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“A little, yes. If one of your macho lawyers throws a ball to you in the middle of a play, it’s going to come at you a lot faster. But we’ll work up to that.”
“I’ll probably never leave the bench. ‘Here Allyssa, you sit right here and watch us middle-aged, overweight, macho lawyers play this manly sport of baseball.’”
He takes my arm. “Let’s see how you do with the bat.” He hands me the ball. “Go to the mound and pitch to me first. I’ll show you how to stand and follow through. Watch my form and how I move.”
“You want me to pitch to you?”
“Yeah. Just try to get the ball between my belt and my shoulders…And don’t hit me.”
I’m a little timid with the first pitch. And I almost hit him with the second. But on the third, he swings and hits the ball. The whole process is a beautiful thing to see. And I could’ve stood there all day and watched him do it.
He puts the bat on his shoulder and grins at me. “Go get the ball.”
“Oh, sorry.” I run to get the ball, which landed in center field. Then I bring it back to the mound.
“Let’s do a couple more. Watch how I step into the ball and follow through.”
“Okay.”No problem. Can you do it in slow motion?
He hits a few more balls, then calls me to home plate. He hands me the bat, then reaches around me to show me where to put my hands. My mouth goes dry. I suddenly realize that I don’t mind at all that he has his arms around me. I feel the warmth of his body against mine as he moves with me through the motion of swinging at an imaginary ball. And then following it through.
He glances at me. “Got it?”
I nod. “Yeah.”
He steps away from me. “Okay. I’ll pitch to you and we’ll see how it goes. Just remember, step into the ball, keep your eye on it until it hits the bat, and then follow through.”
“Got it.”
I don’t have it. I swing at and miss the first three balls. Fortunately, my friend is a very patient man.
“You’re not keeping your eye on the ball. And you’re swinging at everything. Only swing if it’s in the strike zone.” He motions to the space between his belt and his chest.
“Okay. So, are you purposely throwing me bad pitches?”
He laughs. “No. I’m just not a very good pitcher.”
After a few more misses, I start getting the hang of it. He’s able to catch most of the balls I hit. But some of them get past him.
When he comes back from retrieving a ball, he points at me. “Now you’re getting it.”
I smile at him. “You realize you’re training the enemy, right?”
“Well, I’d have to believe your lawyers actually have a chance of winning, for that to scare me.”
I prepare to bat again. “Wow. Overconfident, much?”
“You called them middle-aged and overweight.”
“That doesn’t necessarily mean they can’t play baseball.” I lift the bat off my shoulder.
“It kind of does.”
“Whatever. Are we going to talk? Or are we going to play baseball?”
“Let’s take a break.” We drop our gear into the bag, then head for the bleachers. “You just need to make sure they let you play. Are you getting together before the game?”
I cock my head. “Maybe.”
