The Ball

It was a hot day in Denver Colorado and storm clouds threatened from the outskirts of the sky. This was the day I was to reach back into childhood days and open up a dream and catch a wish in left field that had taken 35 years to reach my glove.

Jeffrey, Lilli and I were in the Mile High City exploring away the dregs of summer and this night we were walking up the steps of Coors Field, where the Colorado Rockies play. It was our first time at a Major League baseball game and something I had wanted to do since the time long ago when the Oakland A’s reigned the league and I ingested every scrap of info on the team with an 11 year old’s enthusiasm. This day, as I walked out onto the pavilion overlooking our seats in left field and the meticulously groomed field, I was trying to soak in every sight and smell and touch. We made our way to our seats in section 153, seats 12, 13 and 14, 4 rows back from the outfield grass. Wow! We were there early for batting practice. The Rockies were on the field and batting and it was fun to hear the crack of the bat and watch the balls fly to the players laughing and chatting in the field and occasionally into the stands, where waiting fans converged in generally futile attempts to claim the prize. When a ball would come toward left field, we would all rise as one unit, willing the ball our way, gloves at the ready. When a lucky bleacher fielder would catch the ball, there were cheers from most, but if the ball were dropped, there were boos and embarrassment. Upon seeing this, Jeffrey told me if the ball came to him, he wanted me to catch it. I have to admit that the crowd kinda added a bit of pressure I hadn’t expected. A 7 year old fan stationed his self in front of us and kept up a constant dialogue with a couple of friends and no one in particular about the quality of a hit or the location of the next ball. Others were around us as well, but most were like me, quietly watching and waiting in anxious anticipation.

The actual ball - see the bat mark in the lower right.

The Rockies finished practicing and the Dodgers came onto the field. Jeffrey pointed out a few players he knew. We were having a good time watching the players and the crowd and then there was a crack of the bat that sent a ball our way. I was up in an instant and watching the balls trajectory… The sounds around me confirmed this was coming our way. As if in a baseball opera, the ball gracefully flew high into the air and then descended (floated) toward section 153, row 4, seat 14. I sensed others around me, pushing in, but it was just a background sense since all my senses were focused on a white dot in the air. I held my glove high in the air like I had done thousands of times in my life and in a glorious moment I felt the joy of a baseball hitting my glove and then being safely enveloped within the confines of that familiar leather. I had caught the ball! Such a simple thing, but my heart swelled with happiness. I was 48 years old but I was 11 years old also. And every age in between. There were cheers and a weight that I didn’t realize was there was lifted as I exulted in the fact that I had not dropped the ball when my chance came. My heart pounded with excitement as I shared the ball with my kids and the 7 year old in front of us.

Sure it was just a ball at batting practice, but at that moment, I was as happy as I’d ever been. I had not dropped the ball! I had waited 35 years for this opportunity and neither the moment nor the aging reflexes disappointed. I am so excited to be able to check this item the old bucket list! OK, this wasn’t actually on the list before, but it should have been. And now it is checked off!!