The Writer's Voice

The World's Favourite Literary Website

At The Ballpark


Michael Basham

One evening, my Son and I had gone to the Ball Park to see a Major League team play. We always left our home about 3 p.m, for a 7 p.m. game. We would get there early and eat our meal early, as well. We didn't want to miss any of the pre-game warmups. We would watch batting practice and the Pitchers and fielders pre-game practice. I was really glad we had come to this game; it was the first for us this season. It was nearing the end of the season and we had not been able to go. I was anticipating a possible stray ball for my son to catch. We watched as hitter after hitter came up during batting practice. He was never close enough to grab one of the balls.

The seats were hard to jump over and to get to the ball was impossible. He was just six years old. I tried to help, but there were a lot of fans there with the same idea. We sat and waited patiently, then batting practice ended. The pitchers were still warming up with each other. I thought, maybe one of them will toss him a ball. The people would yell at them as if they weren't even human sometimes. I thought of how hard it must be for them to ignore the insults. We sat quietly watching and we talked about pitching in general. My son had many questions about Baseball. When the pitchers, were preparing to leave the field and join the team, one walked over our way. I recognized him, immediately. He tossed a ball over the fence to my son. He said, "I have been saving this for you."

My son was ecstatic, I was too, for this pitcher, before coming to this team, had won a World Series. When he walked away, my son was tapped on the shoulder by an older man who had sat behind us. He said, "I'd like for you to have this ball, you see, I appreciate seeing boys at the ballpark with their dads. That Ball is from
when my son stood on that very mound and pitched a game, dedicated to his
dad." He said, "I have more, but this one has been kept for a special occasion, like today."

I don't know which one of those balls was more important. I do know each one was given from the Heart. Two men stood tall in my eyes that night and since, the founders of a memory of a dad and his son.

Critique this work

Click on the book to leave a comment about this work

All Authors (hi-speed)    All Authors (dialup)    Children    Columnists    Contact    Drama    Fiction    Grammar    Guest Book    Home    Humour    Links    Narratives    Novels    Poems    Published Authors    Reviews    September 11    Short Stories    Teen Writings    Submission Guidelines

Be sure to have a look at our Discussion Forum today to see what's
happening on The World's Favourite Literary Website.