Batter Up

A man was traveling on business through a small town. He’d made his sales calls on local industries. It was a good day; he’d written a record amount of business. Life was good. And, to top it all, he’d finished by mid-afternoon. He’d have to stay in town overnight as the contract would not be completed for signing until the next morning.

Stopping at the Dairy Queen, he ordered a slaw dog with a coke and onion rings. With time to kill he indulged in a pineapple sundae before going to his motel room. Once there he pulled off his business suit and settled on the bed. The television was clicked on. He flipped through the channels looking for an interesting program. Soap operas didn’t appeal to him. Even if John had forsaken Wendy, his fiancée, for a torrid affair with Eloise, the consultant who came by the office on occasion, he was actually in love with Francine who was mentally ill because of a rejection from her suitor who had originally been engaged to Wendy but was now the caretaker for Eloise’s invalid father, he couldn’t generate interest in the show.

He searched for something else. The choice came down to the soaps, the repeated news on each of the twenty-four hour news stations, replays of replays of the sports stations, or trials of criminals on Court TV. It really was not a choice.

He jumped off the bed, opened his suitcase and withdrew some blue jeans and a polo shirt. Donning the more comfortable attire, he left the room I search of some entertainment. Walking down the road he heard some cheering in the distance. Making his way toward the noise he came upon a neatly kept Little League Baseball field. As he approached he found himself standing behind the fence in left field.

He watched the game for a few minutes. The pitcher walked two batters. The third player to step to the place tagged the ball for a double and drove in both runs. When the coach left the dugout to call time in order to talk to the pitcher, the man called out to the left fielder, “Hey, son, what’s the score?”

The boy turned and responded, “Eighteen to nothing, and we’re behind.”

“Eighteen to nothing,” the man said, “that must be pretty discouraging.”

“Ah, no sir,” the young athlete replied, “we haven’t got a bat yet!”

It’s a new day. It’s a new game. And you’re up at bat.