IMG_9369
Originally uploaded by Fred Schempp.
He swung. Strike one. "Keep your eye on the ball" they all said. What did they mean? He never asked. They acted like he should know. He swung again. Strike two. He didn't look at Dad, but he knew he was in the stands. He pictured Dad after he struck out again this time, telling him "you're getting better, it's okay, you'll hit something next time." He knew Dad was always trying to make him feel better, and that made it worse. But it wasn't as bad as what the other kids did. He swung, strike three, but something got in the way. The bat jolted his arm and it got very loud suddenly. He could hear Dad's voice above the crowd but couldn't tell what he was saying. He saw the ball going away from him now, far away, bouncing past the shortstop scrambling after it, and then he knew. And the awful blank panic came over him again. Only one thought.
Now what do I do?
[That's all, folks]
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