It was a hot and bright Saturday at the ball field. It was the bottom of the fifth. The games have a time limit and there were only 10 or so minutes left to play (so it might as well have been the bottom of the ninth). It was the Knights last at bat. Two on, two outs. The score was fifteen to eighteen. We were down by three runs. Morale was low.

The boys were missing a lot of plays. Not a good day of fielding; the ball rolled and bounced out of gloves and between little eight year old legs. The Spy was making some solid catches and plays at first base,

but it just wasn’t enough. It already seemed like the Knights had lost. It was the last at-bat.
He stepped up to the plate.

It was windy and quiet.The wind up…ok, well there’s no wind up: it’s the coach dropping a ball into a pitching machine that spits out 38mph base balls. He swung at a low pitch: strike one! Another low pitch. A swing, a miss: strike two. Another swing: foul ball! One of the other dads said, “He’s got the wind at his back.”
He swings. Crack! Or in the Spy’s version it is…

“Kerboom BOOOM SSSshhhhh poughhhhhhh (explosion) (another explosion)”

The ball goes higher and higher and sails far over the fence.

Beaming, running the bases, cheering along with everyone, he pulled off his helmet and pumped his hands in the air and looked like the happiest person on earth. The whole team ran onto the field and met him at home plate. They were jumping up and down and so excited. The crowd went wild. The game was tied. They drove in one more run and the game was won! I was so excited I didn’t even take any pictures!

Fortunately, the following day, Sunday, was another game, and ANOTHER HOME RUN!