Prized Possession

Today is the day, I know it is. It has to be the day. I am the only one left. I have been lonely for a week. I need to finally make it over the-all of a sudden I see a hand searching around the box for the last one of us for the season. I am chosen and the girl holding me takes off my wrapper. I feel the warm summer breeze on my face for the first time, and smell the fresh-cut, green grass. I have heard from the old balls, that the red dirt and the soft, white foul lines feel amazing in between the laces. I see from the corner of my eye all the girls on both teams are warming up for the big game.

I was handed over to the umpire as he stated the rules, “Remember girls, good sportsmanship and best of luck to both teams.” He threw me out with some force and I landed into the black, hard leather of the pitcher's glove.

“Let's play some ball!” one of the coaches yelled.

The first few innings were boring, strikeout after strikeout, after strikeout. I thought softball would be more fun and at least have some action. The only action I have gotten this whole game was a foul ball straight back into the catcher’s glove. It was still 0-0 and I could tell all the batters were getting just as frustrated as I was. Do not get me wrong, the thrill of going sixty-five mph and curving a bit gives you excitement, but I just want to get hit out of the park. You think I would be happy to not get hit, you would think it hurts, but all the old balls say it only stings for a second and after that, it is amazing. Plus, if you are lucky enough and fly high over the fence the girl gets to take you home as a reward. All I want is to go home with a girl and be her prized possession. If I do not make it over I will be used for fielding practice.

It is now the top of the 6th and I finally fly out to right field. I almost make it to the fence, but drop in the grass. One girl now on second, and another girl hits me down the third base line for yet another double. The first girl scores. I then strike out the next two girls at bat, but the final girl hits a single up the middle and another run scores. I get some more action but only to the second baseman who throws me to first for the third out. To end the 6th inning, the pitcher strikes out all of the bottom of the order. It does not look good for the girls in the blue. Going into the 7th inning, the players in the white have bases loaded with two outs. A walk brings in another run to make it 3-0, again no action. The next batter strikes out sending the blue team into their last at bats. The first three girls are walked but the next two strikeout looking. I may never get my chance to fly over the fence, I will become just like the old balls, stuck in the bucket. The final girl then steps into what is left of the batter’s box and hits me foul. “Come on,” I said to myself, “please let me fly.”

Everyone