A Little Skin in the Game

 Two day before Christmas and we’re at the batting cages.  Clare doesn’t want to stop doing what she’s spent most of a lifetime perfecting, and I don’t want to stop watching her work at it.  Unlike the day before, this time the power stays on so the injury can happen.

Clare’s dead serious, if a little off in her timing at 70 mph.  Her swing is nothing if not vicious, especially after missing a pitch.  She goes through four tokens before getting rid of the rust.  At 75 and 80 mph, it’s like old times, all Crack! and watch the ball shoot off her bat.  This is music to the young and relatively old alike.  Only when the tokens run out does Clare show me the true cost of our visit: the skin has ripped off the top of her left thumb.

“I think I need new batting gloves,” she tells Santa.