Storybook Ending

The stage was set for a storybook ending to a high school baseball career.

Having recovered from four early-season losses, the team had come together to realize an impressive collection of wins, a number of which came against equally impressive opponents. They had somehow put together just enough to fend off their cross-town rival, 2-1, for the fourth time of the season, to open post-season play. …then cruised through the opposition by a scoring margin of 39-1 over the next four games to reach the state final four. That tournament was scheduled to be played in their home town, the site where five former state championship dreams had come to fruition for the program.

Some would call it Karma. Others might suggest fate or destiny. In truth, it was simply hard work and motivation, and a little luck, that had brought them to this threshold.

The night before, they had faced a talented young junior pitcher, lauded by all for his 95-98 mph fastball, and projected by many to be among the top draft picks the following year. Following that 7-0 semi-final win in front of more than 3,500 home-town fans, few could have doubted the apparent inevitability of the outcome. The final game would, in fact, be a rematch of an earlier contest our team had won on the road this year against the defending state champs. How could it possibly end any other way…?

By the third inning, it was clear to any who had once thought otherwise that baseball is less about destiny, and more about runs, hits, and errors. Our team was down 6-0, and the weight of the situation was apparent on the faces of our players and coaches, and the thousands of fans who came out to witness another home-town championship. When the starting pitcher, a senior, was relieved for his final time, in his final game, my son, the catcher, wrapped an arm around his neck and walked him to the dugout. …don’t think I’ve ever seen that before on a baseball field. But I knew the history… These two had been playing pitch and catch together for ten years. I could remember them as nine-year-olds in the back seat on the way to a game, dreaming of one day playing for the local dynasty program and winning it all at home.

They came so close…

After the 7-1 loss, the seven seniors huddled for a long time in the parking lot, knowing that it was over, but unwilling to allow the moment to pass too quickly. Through tears and hugs, and finally a few laughs, they came around to facing the fact that they were late. They were late for commencement exercises over at the high school.

I was standing by the track to record various elements of the graduation ceremony when the procession finally got underway. I knew where my son would be in line, and as I hadn’t had the opportunity to see him following the game, I was anxious to learn that he was handling himself well after such a monumental disappointment.

When I spotted him coming up the track, the first thing I noticed was a huge smile. Clearly, he was not going to allow the day’s earlier setback to diminish his enjoyment of this recognition of achievement. He was, after all, graduating number two in his class of almost 600 students. I was relieved, though not altogether surprised, at his ability to keep things in a right perspective.

The next thing I noticed was the medal hanging around his neck. Among the sashes and ribbons allotted to him as a result of his academic accomplishments, was the second place award for the championship that had so recently eluded him and his teammates.

But the thing that had the deepest impact on me was what I noticed next. Below that gold gown, and all that it symbolized…

…turf shoes and pinstripes.

The seven seniors graduated in their baseball uniforms. Each player walked by in his turn, some still sporting eye-black and all wearing their medals with pride.

Now, one week removed from my own disappointment at the game’s outcome, I’ve taken time to reflect on the experience that was high school baseball. Though it wasn’t always fun, it was deeply rewarding on the larger scale. I couldn't be more pleased with the young man my son is becoming, in full awareness of the role that baseball has played in that development. …and while it didn’t end quite as I and others in our community would have scripted, it was nonetheless, quite a ride.

…with a storybook ending.