The thermostat on Clare’s
PT Cruiser cracked Wednesday, necessitating a visit to our favorite
garage. One of the owners used to be
involved with the local baseball travel team.
Believe me when I say the Berwyn Bulldogs were terrors of the diamond
back in the day.
It wasn’t enough for
them to win tournament after tournament; no, the Bulldogs also played Pony
Baseball in Berwyn, as did Clare. She
hit their pitching and tried to catch their line drives. That’s what happened to the only girl in
Bronco level baseball, for 11- and 12-year olds.
Clare was, literally,
hit-or-miss the summer of 2004. I think
she had more extra base-hits than singles and more strikeouts than either. Whenever I got upset about the strikeouts, she’d
line the ball to the fence. In the
season finale, she homered, pulling the ball to left, over the concession area
into the parking lot at the aptly named Homerun Alley. By my reckoning, the ball could have gone out
at the Polo Grounds, where it was 280 feet down the left field line. Not that Clare was done.
“I want to compete in
the homerun hitting contest,” that took place as part of All-Star activities
the next day. Are you sure? “Yes.”
Think of what Linus said in the pumpkin patch about a woman scorned for
a sense of the emotions involved here.
If I’d refused, Clare probably would have walked the two miles to the
field by herself.
She didn’t hit any
homeruns, just double after double to the fence, which generated a whole bunch
of points. Of course, the Bulldogs
showed up to strut their stuff, only to have the girl finish 5th out
of 25 participants. I remember that
morning like it was yesterday.
But not what happened
next. There was a special Bronco travel
team picked to play in California, and Clare wasn’t invited. Getting the car fixed led to this not-so-pleasant
stroll down memory lane yesterday. “It’s
not that I was jealous,” Clare told me.
No, but some snubs hurt too much to let go of, even close to ten years
later. How could I forget?
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