Page 77 of The Way We Swing

As I neared the bag, I remembered something Easton had told me months ago. He always made the last out of his team’s season. I had joked that I would tell Coach to pull him if he had a chance to end ours, but to hell with that.

Baseball had a way of playing jokes on its participants, and this was one of them. Easton was the one person on the team who hadn’t grown up playing with us. Not only was our last hope an “outsider,” it was also someone who always seemed to make the last out for his team.

And then I thought about our conversation last night. About how baseball was the perfect game. About how people always seemed to get another shot, and it was just a matter of if they would step up or not, and this was Easton’s shot. On the other side of the coin, up until now, Easton had been perfect today. It was a perfect scenario for a perfect game.

I looked over at Coach for a sign, knowing there wasn’t going to be any. When Easton stepped into the box, I took my lead. I glared at the pitcher, daring him to try to throw over. I was only a couple of steps off the bag. Past the pitcher was Zach, leading off third.

The pitcher lifted his front foot, and when it crossed over his back, I got into my secondary lead. I looked in at Easton, who took the first pitch for a strike.

We redid the process a second time, but it went for a ball. With each pitch, one side or the other erupted in cheers.

The pitcher came set a third time. He lifted his leg and delivered the pitch. I stayed on the balls of my feet and watched the pitch enter the zone. Easton swung like he always did when we’d hit in the backyard, full of torque.

The ball made that sound—that Easton sound—of when it hit the bat so hard and so squarely, it silenced ballparks.

Time slowed. I broke toward second on contact, ready to score from first and win the game.

Two steps—that was all I got. I froze, mid step, my breath catching.

I saw a flash of tan leather, snapping shut like a trap, ten feet away from me. The second baseman hadn’t even had time to move. He just stood there, the ball in his glove, the same look of shock on his face that I knew was on mine.

Game over.

We had lost.

CHAPTER 28

Icrumbled to the ground.

All that work. Every 6 a.m. lift. Every soaked shirt, bloodied knuckle, strained muscle—gone in one swing.

The St. Ed’s team dogpiled on the pitcher’s mound. Shouts of joy and laughter. That was supposed to be our dogpile.

I stared at the dirt; I noticed how it had clung to my pants and my knees. I didn’t move until I heard footsteps crunch beside me

“You’ve got to get up,” Ricky said. His voice cracked on the last word, but his hand was steady when he offered it. I let him pull me up. My legs didn’t feel like mine.

The walk to the dugout felt longer than the whole game. My teammates watched me like I had the answer. Like I could say something that would undo the outcome.

But I had nothing.

I could barely look at them; the pain was real and raw in a way that didn't feel temporary at all. Tears were everywhere; it looked like somebody had knocked down the bats that had been leaning against the fence.

“You boys were incredible,” Coach Berrios choked out. “They’re going to give you your silver medals shortly. I want you to keep your heads high and try to enjoy it as much as you can.”

I zoned out as we walked onto the field. The announcer congratulated us on being the state runners-up and then congratulated us again one by one. Coach handed us ourmedals; he must have slipped mine around my neck, as I couldn’t remember putting it on.

When the announcer said Easton’s name, I looked for him. I hadn’t seen him since his at bat. No one else could find him, and eventually, Coach pocketed the extra medal.

Mercifully, the presentation didn’t last long. I walked off the field like it was on fire and if I didn’t leave fast enough, I’d burn.

But when my cleats touched the concrete path behind the dugout, I froze.

This was it.

The last time I’d ever leave a baseball field as a player.

No fanfare. No speech. Just the ache in my throat and the sting in my eyes.