Kirk
nervously tugged at his red cap, then rubbed dust on his sweaty
palms before picking up the bat. Stiff and trembling he moved to
the dusty batters box, where he fanned the air a few times to
get the feel. Squatted behind him the catcher waited for the
pitcher who fidgeted on the mound. A dry Spring breeze stirred
the scented pines bordering the park, and little swirls of dust
mingled with the taunts of the outfielders. They wasted their
breath for the batter was only aware of the loud ka-thump,
ka-thump of his own heart. Suddenly the pitcher moved like a
coiled spring, and the small batter swung mightily at the wind
born blur. His hands stung, and the crowd roared for him to run!
Half running, sliding, tumbling...he somehow made it to first
base.
