The Game

THE GAME We would gather slowly “toss” the bat, choose sides, use the “least battered” ball, the only bat we had. The girls played too, chosen because they could play….often before some of us boys. We knew they were better so it wasn’t taken personal. The kid who wore the Sears and Roebuck “Husky” jeans played right field. He was slow, he didn’t get one of the treasured gloves. He batted fourth, cleanup hitter. He could really hit. The “infielders” got gloves. The infield was an almost grassless, rock strewn field. The bases were scratched into the dirt with the bat. The “game” lasted forever. As kids were called away, “substitutes” would take their place. Younger, less experienced little brothers and sisters, earning their time, learning the game, touching the heartbeat of summer. The game would “pause” for lunch, be put on hold at supper, would be thought about, talked about, dreamt about, until ……. 2/11/2017 submitted to – THE NATIONAL PASTIME – poetry contest