101 Word Story

Fourth grade baseball. The first, and last, year of my storied career.

“Ball,” the umpire called, as the first pitch sailed past the batters box, far from its intended target. The next two pitches were even farther outside.

“Well, I know where this one’s going”, I thought to himself, as the pitcher scowled towards the plate. Before the ball even left his hand, I turned my back to the mound.

I looked right at the umpire’s face as the baseball landed squarely between my shoulder blades.

You never have to learn how to hit the ball… if it always hits you.