Clutch

The boys finally got in the win column.  It is the way they did it, in the best traditions of the long history of baseball at all levels, that makes it special.

A couple of weekends ago, in front of a crowd of eleven family members (plus three family dogs), Michael started the game on the mound.  He was uncharacteristically wild, walking a couple of batters and hitting one in a couple of innings of work.  An old baseball adage holds that leadoff runners usually score, and it proved true for Michael, as the leadoff batters he walked came around to score on the usual collection of lightweight hits that could just as easily have been outs.

After falling well behind, though, the boys chipped away all game while holding their opponent to couple of scoreless innings along the way.  By the bottom of the seventh, they were down by only two.  One of our players finished a spectacular day at the plate by legging out a triple and later scoring on a single.  With two outs, a runner on second, and a run down, Michael came to the plate.  After a short battle with the pitcher, Michael drove a low and away pitch into the right-center field gap.  He cruised into second with a game-tying RBI on the longest ball I've ever him hit.  With the dwindling home crowd energized in the fading afternoon light, Michael stole third, then came home on a bloop single that fell just behind the third baseman.  Cries of "we won!" erupted from the bench, and there was joy in Mudville.

(A nice sideline to the story is that Michael and the boy who drove him in, Sam, have teamed up for good baseball in years past.) 

Michael wore a very satisfied glow about him the rest of the evening.  He was rightfully proud of his hit, which was powerful and, most of all, timely.  The team needed him to contribute and he delivered.  Everyone should get a chance to feel that joy at least once in life.