Four hours before my 3rd shift, Sertaun is behind home plate calling balls and strikes and I am hung over as shit standing behind first, a few paces off the base path. Sertaun knows I am hung over, that I have to work, that I’ve come to regret this volunteer opportunity more than I could possibly imagine, and that I all I want to do is get the fuck off of the field so I can go to my car and light a cigarette and not think for a few hours before I go stand behind a cash register and not think for a few hours. Sertaun knows these things, but calls a ball after the nine year old on the mound puts one in the dirt, and the nine year old at the plate starts to fish down for the ball, but pulls back before his bat breaks the plane of the plate.
(via Hobart :: The Holding, The Explosion)
Here’s the first para of a pretty great story by Caleb Curtiss, from before he was promoted to the majors (i.e. he’s now a Hobart Web Editor), included in last year’s annual baseball issue. We just opened submissions for 2013’s Baseball Issue. Submit and help make it awesome?