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The clipping this text was read from
The clipping this text was read from

of decadence, and Alan always had the match lit to ignite such a fire. Enough with the metaphors, already.

The only hedge I had was the hope "that our pitcher would continue to be as bad as he was the first five innings; No ball would be hit short enough to get to Alan and my pocket money would remain in my possession.

I was wrong.

Somebody hit the ball short and it reached Alan on about two bounces. I could see Alan s eyes widen and gleam with the thought of winning a bet — and with the realization that he was given the chance to show off in front of a Friday night crowd.

Alan charged the ball like a major league outfield, duck-hopped and launched the most beautiful, arching throw you ever wanted to see. It easily sailed over the backstop, landed in the street behind the park and rolled into the sewer drain.

Alan was too proud for words.

The umpire threatened to cancel the game if we didn’t play right.

The shortstop was incapacitated by laughter.

The parks and recreation director prepared his resignation.

The girls thought the whole idea was ridiculous.

I counted the quarters and nickels in my pocket to be sure I could pay up.

I lmow today that Alan, if he maintained the same vigorous workout schedule I keep, could never reach the backstop. I feel like I tried to heave one over into the sewer drain.

Maybe by next year’s picnic I’ll be stretched out enough to walk without a limp.

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