Dear friends: This is Part-2 of the story “Perfect Math.” I posted Part-1 yesterday and will post the 3rd and final part tomorrow. If you have not read Part-1 I encourage you to do so before reading today’s post so you can better enjoy the entire account. Read and enjoy…
________________________
After I had finished dressing for practice I walked out onto the field where Dave was working. As I approached he looked up and gave me the biggest smile I’d ever seen…but I was still not exactly sure what Dave was doing there or if he knew I had spoken to Coach.
“What happened” I said, “what’s going on…are you back on the team or what” I asked. Dave continued to work as if he was afraid to stop and he talked to me as he went about his duties. He told me that Coach had called him into the office that afternoon to talk. When he arrived Coach said that after considering it longer he felt he’d made a mistake and that he thought the team could really benefit from his presence on the squad. As I listened I was not sure if I should tell Dave I went to Coach or not, so I said nothing. Then Dave stopped working and looked at me…tears filled his eyes and he said “can you believe…I prayed last night for this…God is good.” Immediately I was overcome with my own emotions and so I quickly patted Dave on the back and began to jog towards the outfield where the other catchers were running sprints. Was it God…I knew God doesn’t answer prayers about baseball….but whatever it was, it sure felt good…and right to me.
Later, after practice that day, I made it a point to walk with Dave back to the field house so we could chat and I could find out what really had happened. It was then I learned what I found most fascinating about Dave’s sudden reappearance on the team. You see, when Coach told Dave he could come back on the team it was under three very specific conditions. These conditions were: 1) that Dave not complain about his role on the team; 2) that he would have to do all the “dirty work” that no one else on the team wanted to do and; 3) he should never expect to play in a game or ask to go into a game. When I heard the conditions I was confused. I knew I would personally never have agreed to those terms and I just could not understand why Dave…or anyone, would for that matter. Secondly, I was not sure if Coach was helping Dave or allowing him to humiliate himself. That night as I lay in bed thinking about it I was not sure I had done Dave any favors and I worried that maybe I had made a big mistake. What was Coach doing? This wasn’t working out the way I had planned and I hoped Dave was happy just to be on the team. At that point I was not sure if I was trying to make Dave feel better or myself.
And so, that’s how it went. Each practice Dave would arrive early and work on the field with the grounds crew. During practice Dave would pitch or catch batting practice, shag fly balls, chase foul balls hit out of the stadium and do all of the other stuff the rest of us felt we were too good to do. Occasionally, Dale would get a chance to take infield practice or to take a few swings during batting practice but even that was limited. The thing was that even with the limited opportunities he was given, Dave always did it all the way. He ran hard, threw hard, was serious about his work and was always asking questions…it was as if Dave was preparing for an opportunity we all knew would never come. After practice Dave would make sure the dugout was cleaned and he would bag all of the equipment and make sure it was stowed away in the field house for the next day. Every day..every single day.
As the season wore on some of the players developed some unflattering nicknames for Dave like “gofer” because each time a ball was hit out of the stadium someone would yell “why doesn’t someone ‘gofer’ that ball” …and each time Dave would instantly jump to his feet and sprint after it. And almost every time Dave would arrive back in the dugout with the ball he’d chased down smiling. I just could not understand why he would subject himself to this abuse every day…and for what? A few swings at batting practice…I just didn’t get it. Young men can be hard on the weak and sometimes even I would join in on the razzing of Dave. I was just a boy and I wanted to “fit in” and while I knew better, I sometimes just could not resist taking a good hearted shot at Dave…even though I knew it wasn’t right. Deep in my heart I knew that each time I would join in with the other fellas I was hurting my friend…betraying him in some way…some friend I am! I was weak.
Yep, you could say that ole Dave lived up to his end of the bargain and I cannot remember a single time hearing him complain no matter what he was asked to do or how hard the boys would get on him. I knew in my heart it had to hurt his feelings at some level but I also knew Dave was happy to be there participating in the game he loved. Every day Dave would just do his job, day in and day out and never complain. Looking back on it now it was truly humbling to see a person so dedicated to something and ask so little in return.
As the season wore on we were playing well but not as well as was expected. There were three games left on the regular schedule and while we were still in the running for a seat in the national tournament, we would have to win our last three games if we were even to be considered for selection by the NCAA selection committee.
We were able to win the first two of the last three games but there was still one left to play. The bad news was that our final game would be against a school that was a Division 1-AA program in a similar position and they, too, needed the win to make the tournament. The stage was set and it would all come down to one game on the last day of the scheduled season.
The week prior to the last game things were not going our way. We had a few injuries, the pitching staff was wearing thin for the long season and on that Thursday, the day before the game, the team was hit with the flu and almost all of us were suffering from it in some way. It was a bad flu; you know, the kind that gives you “the quick step.” Those of us who had caught the bug felt weak and struggled all week during practice but by game day the adrenaline seemed to kick in a little and most of us rose to the occasion.
On the day of the last game four of our teammates could not dress out and a number of others were there “in spirit only”…if you know what I mean. Basically, we were pretty “banged” up and we knew we were going to have to struggle to win this last one. Before the game Coach gathered us together and told the seniors that if we were to lose this would likely be the last game they would ever play in their lives and as for the rest of us this would maybe be the last time we might have a shot at the national tournament. As we took the field the excitement of the moment seemed to energize us and early on we were doing well… but as the game wore on we started wearing down. Still, at the end of the fourth inning we were ahead by two runs. However, it was then that things began to take a turn for the worse. One of our outfielders went down with a torn hamstring, our third baseman hurt his elbow and was taken out and most of us were feeling dehydration from the flu…it wasn’t pretty. Coach was scrambling to shuffle us around and since the NCAA rules stipulate that you can only dress out a limited number of players each game, we were in a make-shift lineup with many of the guys having to play positions they had not played all year. Pitchers were being used as outfielders, catchers as third-basemen, and all the while we had to hold it together and protect our lead. Miraculously, we were able to keep it together and going into the last inning we still held a one run lead.
All we had to do now was get three outs and we would be going to the tournament. I remembered looking out at my team from behind the plate and realizing that we were out of players and down to the last man….My heart began to beat faster as the consequences of the moment finally sunk in.
Under my breath I prayed …”please God just three more outs…just three more outs,” but I knew God did not answer prayers about baseball.
The first batter got up in the last inning, hit a grounder to our shortstop, and he fielded the ball cleanly but his throw was a little off and our first baseman had to really streeetched for it …but…the throw arrived just a heartbeat before the runner…and the ump yelled “out”! One down..two to go….just two more outs and we would be on our way…
As I turned away from the play to head back behind the plate I noticed that Billy, our first baseman, was still on the ground after making the play at first. Immediately I turned back to take a closer look and when I did I could see he was holding the back of his leg and was in obvious pain. Instantly, the trainers jumped from their seats in the dugout and sprinted out across the infield to assist him. As they arrived we, the rest of us on the field, began to walk towards first base and as we did we were all thinking the same thing….if Billy goes down we were out of players…what would we do?
Yet we had forgotten that something special happened that day. Since it was the last day of the season, Coach had told Dave that he could dress out for the game and sit on the bench with the rest of the team. And since we had a number of our regular players who did not dress out because they were sick we were still within the NCAA rules…Dave was actually the last eligible man on the bench that day….his chance had come!
I remember looking over at Coach as he began to calmly walk towards the dugout where Dave was sitting alone. I saw Dave sitting on the bench nervously rocking back-and-forth as he started to realize that he was the last man on the bench…Dave had “done the math” and the numbers all pointed to him. As Coach walked towards him Dave continued to rock back-and-forth as the size and reality of the moment seemed to wash over him. As Coach got near the beach he called out “Grable…its time boy. ..grab your mitt….you’re going in at first.” Immediately, Dave jumped to his feet. He fumbled for his mitt that was under the bench in his equipment bag and then headed out to first base. The good news was that Dave had played some first base during many of our practices…the bad news was that he didn’t play that position very well, either.
So as the trainers helped Billy off the field Dave took his position at first base and the rest of us drifted back to our positions…each of us wondering and worrying how we would get through the next two outs. When I arrived back behind the plate I looked over at Dave and we locked eyes but he made no attempt to acknowledge me and the expression on his face was a mix of both exhilaration and sheer terror. The moment that Dave had seemed to be preparing for all those practices had arrived and it was clear he felt the pressure. I watched as Coach gave Dave a few last words. Then, just as he was ready to turn to walk back to the dugout, Coach stopped again, looked back at Dave, smiled and said “relax son… you are exactly where you deserve to be…this is your time now… don’t forget to enjoy it”…and off the field he went.
There were just two outs left…just two outs….I prayed “please God don’t let them hit it to Dave”…but I knew God didn’t answer prayers about baseball….
PLEASE READ ON: Third and final post coming tomorrow.
