THE MITT • by Chris Edwards
The small boy, undersized for his age, scuffled at the ground with the toe of his rubber cleat. It was the bottom of the last inning and his team clung tenaciously to a one run lead — but their opponents… Continue Reading
baseball
PITCH AND CATCH • by Hunter Prichard
Petey had been pitching the baseball against the house for the last hour. He kept an eye on the street, watching for his father’s car. It would be too early for him to be getting home, but his father had… Continue Reading
TWO STRIKES • Frank C. Modica
We had chosen our baseball teams in the alley behind our houses like always and started to walk down the block to the special lot, the one we still called our prairie; the only open space left in our neighborhood… Continue Reading
SEASONS • Catherine Kelley
It’s the middle of the eighth inning, and Jake’s eleven-year-old daughter, Sandy, lies on her stomach two feet from the television screen. Her light brown ponytail sticks out the back of a baseball cap—their team’s cap. Propping up her chin… Continue Reading
OPENING DAY • by Scott Rothschild
Cal was picked to play only because none of the older guys wanted to be catcher. The older guys wanted to drink beers that they had gotten despite being underage and they wanted to make out with their girlfriends in… Continue Reading
BREAKING BALL • by Michael Snyder
There’s this ball, pink-seamed and spinning fast, its coordinates locked on the northern perimeter of my left eye socket. All the proof I need that God hates me. No surprise, as my earthly father was never that fond of me… Continue Reading
JAZZY, JACQUES BARZUN AND BASEBALL • by Ted Lietz
Jazzy had first learned English by reading and her vocabulary could sound strange to my American ears. Words like suitor, betrothal, nuptials. But when Jazzy meant love, that was the word she used. As in her final message, just before… Continue Reading
WHERE MINE WENT • by Kenneth Jakubas
My future went missing at a minor league baseball game. Hurricanes vs. Growlers. It was the hottest day of the summer, and the heat bent the field, putting a mirage over everyone’s head. Then a man turned from the bleacher… Continue Reading
FOUL • by Alan Vernon
One swing of the bat and a frozen rope laced foul from the barrel of a 32-ounce bat beaned my Dad straight in the left temple, and he crumpled in my lap. It was opening day. I was ten years… Continue Reading
ZUGZWANG • by Scott D’Accordo
On the train to Detroit some of the guys were playing cards, two were reading, most sleeping. Eddie was alone in the back of the car, smoking and staring out the window. I got up and sat next to him.… Continue Reading