Of the final goals, I was okay with ‘A Healthy Sex Life,’ ‘Make a Difference,’ and ‘Be a Great Dad.’ The one that gave me heartburn was ‘No Regrets,’ because I’d probably warped that one a bit. I’d initially put it on the list to push me to move forward, to live life to its fullest. When I got older, I didn’t want to look back and say, ‘I wish I’d done …’
I’d written this goal with my mom’s cancer in mind. I’d intended it as a reminder that we only have so many days on this earth, and we should live life to the fullest. It didn’t mean I should jump at every crazy opportunity that came my way. Living a life of no regrets didn’t mean I should live one with no responsibilities, as my father had pointed out.
In practice, keeping this goal in context meant I probably should no longer volunteer to test out any of Devin’s toys or slip into a pop star’s dressing room. I had people who counted on me to use good judgment. It came back to that whole ‘becoming a better man’ concept my dad had saddled me with. I decided to leave ‘No Regrets’ on the list. But I would have to be conscientious when I invoked it to make sure I was doing the right thing. I didn’t want to be using it as a crutch to allow me to do adventurously stupid stuff.
I realized that anytime I proposed to use this life goal as the basis for a decision, I needed to pause and step back. That way, I would ensure I wasn’t using it to justify ignoring one of my other life goals.
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Today’s game, our last home baseball game before the playoffs, was senior day. As in football, all the seniors would be introduced along with their parents before the game.
We’d gotten the SUV repaired after the accident, so now that we had an extra car, it freed up the Demon for Manaia to drive me in. Cassidy had come over for breakfast but announced she had other plans today. I’d sent Brook a text to find out what our girl was up to. In a way, I was acting like Tami used to do to me. I justified my prying by telling myself I wanted to make sure Cassidy was okay.
The real reason for my spying was I suspected she’d met someone yesterday. After the water-balloon fight, we’d dried off by going to the beer tent and dancing. I couldn’t remember if I’d seen Cassidy or not.
Another excuse I could use was that she was my prom date. I had a history of having to find a partner for that dance at the last minute. I’d said ‘yes’ to Cassidy in part so I had it locked down.
After I reasoned all that out, I didn’t feel guilty about texting Brook. I gave myself a self-satisfied smile. Problem solved.
◊◊◊
We were playing Pekin today, and we had near-perfect spring baseball weather. A warm front had come through, and the forecast said it would be in the mid-70s at game time. I heard the birds chirping and saw teenage girls running around in shorts. All reasons to love playing baseball.
As we warmed up, I spotted Tami in the stands. She’d come home for the weekend. Lexi was still here, and she joined Tami. They’d gotten to know each other a little while planning Senior Skip Day. Funny how Lexi gravitated to people in my life who would do her the most good. If I looked at it in mercenary terms, that behavior might bother me.
“Quit checking out the girls and get ready,” Coach Haskins said, scaring the crap out of me.
I’d been distracted and hadn’t noticed him come up behind me. I jumped like Duke does when you grab his butt when he’s goofing around, and you wanted to get his attention.
“Got a minute?” I asked.
“For you? Never.”
I ignored my coach’s snide remark.
“Would you and Moose like to go to a Cubs game tomorrow? I got a message telling me I could have two tickets if I wanted them. If you do, they’re on me for all the help you’ve been.”
Both men had coached me during my time with Team USA. When I received the text from Bill Carl, I immediately thought of them. I’d planned to spend the day with my brother and his rug-rats at the lake, so I wasn’t going to use them. My backup plan would be to give them to either Tim and Wolf or Tami. The Cubs were playing Cincinnati, Tami’s favorite team.
“It’s a little last-minute …” Coach Haskins quibbled.
“Please. You and Moose have no life outside of baseball,” I teased.
“Keep it up, and you’ll be sitting on the bench next to me.”
We both knew that would never happen for my last home game. The fans would lynch him. I’d hate to see the horrible mistake at his next haircut. Those guys were not beyond exacting some revenge.
“The tickets will be waiting for you at the Will Call window.”
“Thanks, David. Are you going to give us some cash so we can buy a beer or three?”
“Cassidy hangs onto all my cash. Go ask her for it,” I shot back.
Everyone knew that Cassidy would never give up any money. The sad part was, if she did hold my cash, she wouldn’t give it to me, either. He shook his head and left me to get ready.
◊◊◊
They had a nice pregame presentation. All the parents of the seniors showed up wearing their sons’ baseball jerseys. We had all arranged to have orange and blue carnations to give to our mothers.
They introduced me last, and Moose said some kind words about me and all my accomplishments. He shared that I’d been named Gatorade Baseball Player of the Year for our state. I was the first to have ever won the award in two sports in the same year for our state. Then the unexpected happened: they announced that the school was retiring my number.
Lexi had arranged for a display box with my photo, jersey, and all my awards and achievements. Like my football display box, it would be hung next to the trophy case in the Field House.
It was finally time to play ball. Pekin came up to bat, and we had Phil on the mound. Moose was treating this as a warm-up for the state playoffs that would begin next week. He wanted to get everyone some playing time and give other teams something to think about.
To that end, he pulled me into shallow center field to, in effect, act as an extra infielder for their leadoff hitter. The report on their batter said he was a weak-hitting freshman who was fast on the base paths. We’d been warned to watch for the kid to bunt. Both Ty, at third, and Wolf, at first, crept forward in preparation to charge the plate if he did bunt.
When Phil started his motion towards home, Brock, at second, moved to cover first base. I charged forward to take Brock’s vacated spot on the diamond.
The hitter squared up to bunt and then pulled his bat back to swat Phil’s pitch. It would have been a good play if I hadn’t moved to where Brock had been because he hit it right to where our second baseman had just moved from.
I quickly scooped it up and fired to first for the out. In my pulled-up position, I fielded another ball from the next batter that would have been a base hit. Phil managed to strike out the third Pekin player to end the top half of the inning.
When I came up in our half of the first, we had Ty on third with Wolf at first and one out. The crowd reacted to my name being announced as I stepped into the box. I ran through my ritual as I dug in to hit. I visualized my hitting steps and settled my mind so I would drop into the zone where it was just the pitcher and me.
All the crowd noise faded from my perception, and my focus narrowed in on the ball as it came out of the pitcher’s hand. It was a fastball down the center of the plate and rising. I straightened my knees to get the right level for the head of my bat as I ripped it through the zone.
I heard the satisfying crack of the bat as the ball rocketed up the middle of the field. When the ball hit the pitcher square in the solar plexus, I winced. The impact sounded like a sledgehammer hitting wet cement. The poor kid collapsed as I ran to first.
Ty scored, and Wolf made it to third. The umpire called time, even though the ball hadn’t been fielded yet, because the pitcher’s safety was paramount. The crowd became unnervingly quiet as the training staff from both Lincoln and Pekin rushed onto the field.