Friday Night on Front Street: A Baseball Microstory

He’s made the pilgrimage for nearly 30 years. Probably could walk the path backwards and blindfolded:

Exit Union Station, walk along Front Street, turn left at John Street, up the stairs and over the bridge. Hello Skydome! Enjoy the game.

The weather is a warm tonic. It’s providing something he badly needs: A chance to take a breath.

The city was busy and his life was no exception. Anxiety and painful memories were far too prevalent. He needed a break. Baseball was that break.

So he walks, inhales the metropolitan air and begins to observe the people and their stories.

ER

Optioned to AAA: A Baseball Microstory

A bitter professional baseball player boarded the final Greyhound shuttle just after midnight. He was going back to the minors; optioned to AAA.

“We know you’re working hard,” his manager told him. “But things are getting tight and we just can’t wait it out.”

The manager wasn’t wrong. His struggles were well-documented.

But he had nothing to prove in the minors and hated giving up the sweet nectar of major league luxury.

So with the emergency exit within reach, he considered instant retirement.

The worst kind of anger is when you’re furious with the person you see in a mirror.

ER

Silent Siblings: A Baseball Microstory

Dinner was painfully awkward.

Such was the case with the Johnson brothers. They had nothing in common except for baseball.

Roger was the league’s best manager. Steve was a long-time umpire.

They reluctantly met, ordered and sat silently.

A young sports reporter out with his colleagues noticed the Johnsons and asked why they weren’t speaking.

“Wait for it,” answered one of the veteran scribes.

Eventually, Roger broke the silence.

“Can’t believe you threw me out,” said Roger. “That third strike was way outside!”

“It caught the corner and you deserved what you got,” replied Steve.

The young reporter instantly understood.

ER

The Surprise Visitor: A Baseball Microstory

The first stop after a ballgame: The washroom.

It was packed as usual. Young fraternity brothers resting their near-empty cans of beer on top of urinals.

I did what I needed to do, washed and dried my hands and prepared to exit.

Then she walked in.

“Miss,” I said, shocked and concerned. “You’re in the wrong spot.”

She just smirked, pulled her hat down and calmly walked into the only available stall. In unison, all the men stopped talking and watched in disbelief as she locked the door.

She knew exactly what she was doing and didn’t give a damn.

ER

Dilemma On The Mound: A Baseball Microstory

Joe was at a career crossroads.

He was facing a superstar and plagued with a dilemma.

The superstar had an irritating demeanor and wreaked havoc on Joe’s team.

Joe had two choices: Intentionally hit the superstar or try to get him out.

Hitting the superstar had consequences, but he’d gain the respect of his teammates and coaches. Pitching to the superstar – even if successful – would demote him to AAA.

“Beaning” was the old way, but being a team player was a hard temptation.

Taking a deep breath, he decided uncomfortable busses and dirty motels were better than a toxic camaraderie.

ER

Father and Son: A Baseball Microstory

“So this is what retirement feels like?” I asked.

“This is it,” my father replied. “What do you think?”

I gave the question some thought.

“Honestly,” I said. “I still have the urge to put on the uniform and grab my glove and bat. The feelings I had out there haven’t gone away yet.”

“Good,” my father said smiling. “It’s normal to feel that way. That urge will always exist. My advice: Don’t try to disconnect from it. It’ll drive you crazy. Just embrace it.”

Such wise words that guided me out from darkness.

I was going to be alright.

ER

No Confidence: A Baseball Microstory

Those fucking nerves tear my stomach apart.

What did Dr. Garcia say? Take several breaths? Remember, it’s just baseball; not life-or-death?

I’ve solicited advice. Yet every time….every damn time the manager calls on me, I want to disappear.

Use to be the best closer in baseball. Simply unstoppable. Then I made a fatal mistake: Threw one bad pitch and fucked up the World Series. Since then, my confidence has been estranged.

It is life-or-death. The stadium is full of demons and they’re all watching me.

Maybe, if I’m lucky, I’ll have a heart attack before I reach the mound.

ER