The Adventures of Stevie #21
These stories were told to me by friends and other people. Some of them
are true. Some of them are only partly true. Some of them should have
been true. LOL
My first post about Stevie ("Call me Stephen!") was when he was 12 and
in summer camp and was told by another camper. This was from a time
before computers would fit on a desk and when people communicated with
friends in other countries by actual letters sent through the postal
service. When children did this those friends were called "penpals".
Carlos is Stevie's penpal in Argentina and knows English. This is a
fictional contrivance to enable Stevie to tell us his stories because
he isn't here in person. I think.
All characters are fictitious, even if some of them might have names
that belong to some actual people, or act like people we know.
Stevie's school is for gifted children who don't fit in regular schools.
The stories may not be posted in chronological order.
Stevie is 11 in this story, in summer camp.
The Adventures of Stevie #21 "Baseballed"
Dear Carlos,
We play sports here. That's not right. Other campers can play sports
here. Just not me. I do a little judo with a boy from Japan in free
time outside, but the most popular sport here is baseball. They are
crazy about it. Everybody plays it. Except me. I never played it before
and didn't know anything about it. I can play tennis. We don't have
that here. I can play ping pong pretty good. We don't play that except
when it rains, and the older boys hog the tables. They hit the ball too
hard, too. I can play soccer. We don't have that here. I don't think
they know how to play it. I can't play basketball, and nobody here
except the big boys play it anyway. I can fence. There is equipment for
it here but no counselor who knows anything about it. I can play chess
with the counselors, but I always beat them. There is no sport in that.
The only real sport here is baseball.
Kids here learn to play baseball when they are very young. It's much
different for an old man of 11 to learn it from the beginning when 8
year olds here are so good they make you look stupid. First thing I had
to do was pick up the bat. It's heavy! Then I have to stand next to
something called a home plate. It doesn't look like any plate I ever
saw in a home. Then this kid threw a ball at me. I started to ask why
he did that when they told me I wasn't supposed to run away, but to
stand there and hit the ball with the bat. How can I hit it with a
skinny piece of wood when that little ball is MOVING? They said wait
for a good pitch, which means one where the ball goes where I want it,
and then swing the bat at the ball. I waited. He threw the ball 3
times. Then they said I was out. I didn't understand. They said I had
three strikes and I was out, so I couldn't do it any more. I still
didn't understand. I didn't strike the ball, so how could I have three
strikes, and how could I be out of the game when I didn't do anything
yet?
They explained about "at bat." I think baseball should have separate
words about it, and not use regular words which mean something else
outside of baseball. If you ever try to swing a bat at somebody's
balls, that little furry flying mammal is going to be very upset, and
probably bite somebody where it really hurts! Do I have to tell you how
strange "fly balls" sounds? Those poor tiny insects. I don't know how
they can walk with balls so big. The foul balls didn't smell worse than
regular balls, but if they did, it's no trouble to wash them. When you
have a home run, you have to run around the whole field and step on 3
little pads in the ground called bases, before you can go to what they
call "home". Then your teammates jump all over you. I don't think I
want one of those.
There is a rule here which says everybody on a team has to play.
Nobody is left out. That was a problem for all of us. I wanted to be
left out, but they couldn't do that, and they didn't know what to do
with me, or where to put me. That means what position I should play.
I'm no good at throwing a ball. I try but it doesn't go very far. I can
catch the ball if they toss it gently to me, but anything harder hurts,
even when I borrow somebody's glove. That is if I don't get out of the
way of that attacking missile first. I think I have this problem
because of fighting practice. If something is coming fast at me I have
to avoid it or block it or knock it out of the way, not catch it.
Unless it's a cold. Sniff sniff, cough cough! Ha ha. So, they made me a
pitcher. No, not the kind which pours water, the kind that drinks it. A
lot. Pitching is hard work. I throw the ball at the people who are
trying to hit it with the bat. I have to stand very close to them so
the ball will get to them while it is still in the air, or they will be
playing golf instead, which we don't have here. The other pitchers try
to throw the ball so the other players can't hit it. I'm nice and throw
the ball right where they like to hit it. I think my teammates don't
like that, but they don't say anything about it. Something about too
many runnings happening.
My next time at bat was different. The pitcher threw the ball and it
went far away from me. The guy behind me said it was a ball. I already
knew that. It sure wasn't a bird! The next pitch was like that too.
Then the guy behind me said I had two balls. Most boys do, so I didn't
know why he had to announce it. The pitch after that was in a good
place, so I put the bat in it's way. The ball bounced off the bat and
flew over the head of the pitcher and fell to the ground behind him.
They made me run to the first base then. I wouldn't have if I knew what
was going to happen. Somebody picked up the ball and threw it to the
other team player who was standing near where I was supposed to run to.
He caught it and shoved it at me, and hit me right in my balls with it.
I fell to the ground hurting and wishing I had never tried to play this
stupid game. I really didn't need 3 balls there instead of the usual 2.
Then the guy behind where I was batting from said I was out. AGAIN! I
couldn't do anything right! But I did have an excuse not to play more
right then.
We are going to play baseball again tomorrow, and almost everyday
after. I don't know if I can get the other team players to hit me in
the balls again, so I don't have to play after that. I don't know if I
want to do that anyway. It hurts. There has to be a better way to play
with little balls than this. Maybe I should ask Jeremy what he thinks.
Your friend,
Stephen
--
Grant
|
|