English Homework, 3.31.07

Wow, it took me forever to write my English homework for this weekend...but I did it, ooooh yeah! The assignment was to write a one page (okay, I wrote two) story with an intro, rising action, climax, falling action and conclusion that uses succumb and three other vocab words from this unit. The story is this:

No. No way. Not possible.
There is no chance I’m going to hit a ball of this team’s pitcher, no chance at all. But I’m already at the plate, and Coach Marinucci is screaming his head off at me to line up, and the tall pitcher is regarding me with this awful, self-satisfied smirk on his face. Like, A girl. The last one that could possibly win the game, and it’s a girl. Oh please. So, I have to try anyway.
Oh well, I think to myself. Coach Bauard wouldn’t have taken me anyway. And then, that tall, lanky boy in the tawny uniform sends a fastball down the lane.

***

The semi-finals are scheduled for today, May 14th. Even though there’s still over a month of school left, it’s very hot — eighty-nine degrees. And counting.
We’re up against the RRROARIN Black Bears, which is a pretty lame name if you ask me. If we win this match, we’ll go to the finals. At two twenty five, five minutes before the game is to start, I have complete confidence that our coach will have another championship cup in his office come June second.
Thirty-five minutes later my confidence in our team, the Wolverines, has plummeted to below zero. And I’m the most optimistic person on the team. These boys are just too good! We’re at the bottom of the sixth inning.... and we’re losing. Badly. Our worst loss this entire season has been three to two. Not that we suck. I mean, they’ve only managed to get three runs. But to get three runs past us is a lot. Particularly since we haven’t gotten any past them. The score is three to zero...and that’s bad for us. Very bad. But every cloud has a silver lining: Scott McCluskey is up next, and the bases are loaded.
Scott is the best guy on the team, everyone knows it. I mean, take our first game of the season: two homers, a triple, three doubles and a single. And only four strikes all game. For the entire season? He’s hit twelve homers, seven triples, six doubles, and fourteen singles; has thirty-two RBIs and has struck out eighty-two percent of the hitters who’ve gone up against him while he pitches. And if any other fourteen year olds have the nerve to scoff at that, well, good luck at the challenge, because they’re going to need it. So if anyone can pull us out of this hole we’re stuck in, Scott can.
But no.
A curveball sends Scott leaning out to snag it while the ball slides neatly over home plate. A slider tricks him. Strike two. And then a fastball, a perfect pitch, right over the plate...a pitch where we all relax, because everyone knows that’s the best kind of pitch for Scott: one with lots of force that he can use to blast it out of the park.
“STEEEERIKE THREE, you’re out, son.” Those words jolt us all. No. Impossible. Scott would never miss a pitch like that.
But he joins Michael Rhoades and Christopher Lewis on the bench, head in his hands. Even the great Scott McCluskey must succumb to a greater pitcher. Coach Marinucci is scrutinizing his list...figuring out who will go next, take the last out, and lose the game graciously. He looks up from his list, in my direction. I listen for him to call Timothy Hynes, who is sitting beside me.
“Chrissie. You’re up next.” he says to me, and then turns on his heel to have a conference with the umpire. Me, I’m just sitting there with my jaw hanging, totally flabbergasted. Too bad my dentist wasn’t there; I’ve never managed to open that wide for her.
I mean, you’d expect the coach to pick the next best kid, right? Like, the guy who’s almost as good as Scott...but not quite. Me, I’m not even close. If the sky’s the limit, then I’m still wading around down here with my ankles stuck in the mud. I haven’t hit a single homer all season; in fact, I haven’t hit one in the three years I’ve been playing baseball. Triples? That’s a laugh. Two in the entire season, three in three years. Plus two doubles and ten singles; four RBIs, and if I ever pitched, I wouldn’t be allowed to visit my little brother’s tee-ball games, I’d be so disgraced. I’m the girl who doesn’t have any social life to speak of whatsoever (except for baseball practices and the occasional awkward birthday party); who wouldn’t know the difference between Aeropostale and Gap if it were staring her in the face; the girl whose life consists of four basic thongs: food, sleep, school and baseball. I’m the girl who spends hours every weekend out on the practice field with my dad, trying to hit something other than a single, yet still can’t line up at the plate properly. Actually...the only reason I do baseball is to be able to do it in high school and play for Matt Bauard. Anyone who plays on his team gets a scholarship to college...and that’s what I need. No one at home can pay the bills for college and I’m brain dead, so baseball’s the only way to go. So why Coach was putting me in was a mystery. I mean, the object of a game of baseball is to win, right? So if Coach Marinucci thought that I’ll be able to do that, then I’m almost ready to suggest that he check himself into the mental ward at our local hospital.
Or maybe I’m dreaming. Yeah, I’m ready to believe that too.
“Chrissie, what the hell are you waiting for? GO!” someone screams at me.
So I have no choice. I walk out to the plate. My teeth are chattering so hard that I can hear the clink of my braces. My heart is beating like crazy; it’s not normal — maybe I can get out of batting by begging of for a heart condition? Nope. Then I turn my head to see the pitcher.
No. No way. Not possible.
There is no chance I’m going to hit a ball of this team’s pitcher, no chance at all. He struck out Scott McCluskey, for goodness sake! But I’m already at the plate, and Coach Marinucci is screaming his head off at me to line up, and the tall pitcher is regarding me with this awful, self-satisfied smirk on his face. Like, A girl. The last one that could possibly win the game, and it’s a girl. Oh please. So, I have to try anyway.
Oh well, I think to myself. Coach Bauard wouldn’t have taken me anyway. And then, that tall, lanky boy in the tawny uniform sends a fastball down the lane.
I step into the swing, just like all those times at Rosewell Park with Dad.
I still strike out. Not that I was expecting to hit it or anything.
Another pitch...another strike.
And on the last pitch I really want to do something. So I line up the way Scott does....even though it’s the way Coach tells us not to. I hold the bat at the exact angle Scott does and take a few practice swings, trying to match that of Scott’s. Then I line back up and settle into position. My hair is sticking to the back of my neck, it’s so hot.
Then the pitcher lets loose...a perfect Scott pitch. Not a Chrissie pitch. But then I say to myself, I am as good as Scott McCluskey, and I’m going to win this game.
Then there’s a deafening crack and all I can do is stand there as my hand goes numb. I watch the ball fly...then I hear everyone screaming at me, just one word:
“RUN!”
That word echoes through me, burning through my mind as a fire does a dry plain. I touch first base with my toe.
The ball is still soaring.
I touch second. The ball still flies through the air, though it’s losing altitude and speed.
My toe touches third as the ball hits the parched grass.
“RUN! RUN, CHRISSIE, RUN!”
My foot touches home base...and my team explodes.
“CHRISSIE, YOU DID IT! YOU WON THE GAME! WE WON! WE WON! YOU HIT A GRAND SLAM!”
“WE WON!!!”

“And thanks to Chrissie’s amazing exploit, we are going on to the championship against the Power Ups. So keep those skills sharp, we’re going to need them.”
The after game pep talk. We’re going to the championship — because of Chrissie. We won the game — because of Chrissie. We may get the cup — thanks to Chrissie.
I’m still getting high fives, encouraging words and back slaps.
I smile to myself.
Bring it, Power Ups. I think to myself. And good luck to you.



***

So I hope everyone likes it...post a comment :D