It was drama in the form of 14-year-olds’ baseball. Bottom of the seventh. Our team had just battled back from a seven-run deficit. We were one out and two runs away from heartbreak or jubilation, when a kid called up from the 12-year-old division hit a double to tie the game.
Now we needed just one hit, and who stepped up to the plate? Stephanie–the lone girl on the team, one of only two girls in the entire division.
You could see the words in the thought balloons forming above the pitcher’s head: She can’t hit. We’re almost there. Be patient. Throw strikes. Get out of the inning.
In a deck so mischievously dealt, you know the outcome. The girl hit a clean single to right. The winning run scored, and the game was ours. It was a glorious moment–if perhaps a little awkward:
Oh, this time in this favored land the sun is shining bright,
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But there are no bear hugs for this game’s hero, teen boys thought it not right.
High-fives would have to do in Mudville, still the sentiment’s the same,
And no one can take away the fact that mighty Stephanie’s won the game.