A MAN in his forties. Looking at us.
MAN … I love this game. I do. That’s one thing you should know about me, before we get all … I do love it. I really do. Not that I don’t get into football or, or other crap like that, some hockey, whatever, but baseball is my game of choice, no question. Without question. I’m a baseball guy, that’s me. It is. (Beat.) I’m also—not to, like, blow my own trumpet here or whatnot, but—I’ve also coached a little. I have. Yep. I don’t mean, you know, not in a professional capacity or anything, at college, no, but just for boys down at the … you know, whatdoyacallit? The Parks & Rec Department. In the summer. I’ve been a batting coach with one of the teams there since my oldest—Dale, Jr.—he went and tried out one spring. Kid’s a fantastic ballplayer, really is, walked on and took over the shortstop position from a neighbor boy who’d been playing for, like, three years previous, so … (Beat.) And he can hit, too … un-believable power for a young guy and this really great respect for the game. The rules and all that, you know? A regular little sportsman-of-the-year and I wanted to be a part of that so I started helping kids learn to bat at some of the practices—holding the thing correctly, learning to swing through the pitch, finding their stance, etc. No big deal, really, but it can make a bit of a difference in somebody’s career if a person like me takes an interest in them early on … helps instill the basics at the right age … you’d be surprised. Uh-huh. Lot of boys I’ve worked with have gone right on up through their school programs and been highly successful … including a few scholarships to various colleges, local anyway, and even one kid—played just after my son did—he’s on a minor-league team in the Seattle area, could even end up with a major league franchise if he plays his cards right. And you know what? Still holds that bat exactly the way I showed him, over ten years ago. Yep. (Beat.) My kid, as good as he is, he ended up working construction and only plays on weekends in the summer, so, you know … but he knows I love ’em, no matter what he became, so yeah; still plays a hell of an infield game, even if it’s just slow pitch over there at those public fields. I go see him play some evenings, last game of the night on a Saturday and it just … well, you know how it is when it’s your own son. It’s just … pleasing. (Beat.) You keep looking at me funny … you’re thinking that I’m … I mean, you probably recognize me, right? Realize that I’m somebody you know from somewhere but can’t put your finger on it yet. Isn’t that it? Umm-hmm. Tell ya what, I’ll give you a hint and you’ll probably get it right away. Just like that. (He snaps his fingers.) Two years ago, Morgan Field. Wizards vs. the Bulldogs. You got it? No? Yes? I was the guy. You know … the guy, with the whole … it was on the news for, like, a week! The fight. The parents who … and we all got into that tussle and, you know? Yeah. That was me. (Beat.) Yep, now you remember, don’t ya? Sure. It was a big deal around here … even made the national news for a couple days there. Our pictures. And still, to this day, I don’t know how it got started, I really don’t. I said one thing—one!—a tiny comment about the way this guy’s kid was crouching in the batter’s box and, yes, okay, I made a bit of a joke out of the thing—I mean, you probably never saw any of the amateur video from that day but it’s still available out there, folks on the Internet and whatnot—but the kid had a bad attitude. He was a terrible hitter from what I could see, it was only like his fourth time at bat, and so I just yelled it out, no big deal; that’s half of the Little League experience … dealing with the crowd. My boy did it, and he was an amazing player, but people would still always be saying stuff, just crazy stuff, about his name and his, I dunno, his socks and shit; the point was to try and throw the kids off! That’s the idea behind it … and this guy goes ballistic in the crowd. From the visitor bleachers way over there on the opposite side of the field this one comes running over, charging straight at me … I can see what he’s doing, and he looks like he’s, you know, like he’s out of his head … swearing and almost crying … he’s red in the face and these, like, beads of water (I don’t know if they’re tears) coming off him. A couple dads down front try to stop him but he plows right over them—knocks down a mom holding her baby even!—and he hits me like a … like some train coming out of a tunnel. WHAM! Up over the stands and down onto the metal seats, him swinging these wild punches as I’m defending myself and screaming up into his face … choking and hissing at him … with these people gathering behind him and grabbing his neck but he’s … he’s not going anywhere, won’t give up … he’s sitting on my chest, has me on my back now and almost split in two—you know, like, dropped down there into the floor section and no way I can get to my feet, my air’s getting all cut off—and him punching away at me. All I can see before I pass out is that look in the guy’s eyes as he’s smashing my face. His eyes are all … well, you just don’t forget a thing like that. Not ever. (Beat.) Anyway, that’s how it started and I know it was stupid, just a stupid thing to say and to be involved in and all that but what’re you gonna do? You can’t take it back, you can’t … and all the wishing and praying in the world won’t make it okay again, make everything go back to zero and be alright. You’re stuck with what you’ve done and you’re gonna feel like shit about your part in it forever. Yeah, for all time … forever and ever. Or like the one guy said, in his poem there … with the bird? “Evermore.” That’s a long time to be sorry about one little dumb thing you did but that’s the way it works and from then on, that second, that’s your lot in life. To go walking around and feeling crappy about what you did and how things ended up and the like. Your part in it … and what happened to your life in the meantime because of it. (Beat.) I mean look at me. What a fucking tragedy this is, huh? I’m not kidding ya. Forty-four years old and I leave three kids and a wife behind. Beth’s a homemaker, doesn’t have an associate’s degree even, and there’s not enough insurance or benefits or any of that shit … because I’m invincible, right? I’m immortal and in the prime of my life and an American and what the hell’s ever gonna happen to me? And then something does, and there you are. You’re gone and they’re left and that’s what all these books … all these many religious books that babble about Heaven and Hell and what happens next … that’s what they’re going on and on about. In a second, some split second of time, you’re just … gone. But, see, you’re left to wander around like you’re still here and look at all the people who love you crying and trying to figure out how to live now and there’s not a thing in the world you can do … not one. Because no one can ever see you again but you gotta watch all the outcome of what you did. Family having to sell the house and that other guy going to jail for a while—I wasn’t so bothered by that!—and your kids cringing every time somebody asks ’em about that day … that is what you leave behind. That’s what you get for opening your big mouth about some man’s child who, for a few minutes there, you forgot is loved by this guy and he’ll do anything to make sure that boy grows up strong and happy and secure. Any-thing. And that’s when you sit down somewhere, in this in-between place where you now find yourself and you get sick … actually physically sick wishing so hard that you could just go back, go back for a second is all, and keep your big mouth shut and watch the game and go get pizza after and fall asleep next to your family just one more time. Just once. But you can’t, no, you can’t ever do that again because you forgot it’s a game … it’s only a game and that’s something that will haunt you forever and ever and ever … (Beat.) I know it’s hard, believe, I know … with the mortgage and people out there driving like maniacs and that new dude at work who is making you crazy … it’s so damn hard to remember to just relax and to lighten up and take those moments of pleasure that come to you. But do: take ’em and pull ’em close to your chest and just … you know … just squeeze the shit out of ’em because they are so goddamn precious … so try, okay? That’s all I’m gonna say to you about it, is try. Just try. Try and hold you stupid fucking temper and just … you know … try. Because it’s only a game. It really is. It’s a game. That’s all. (Beat.) A game …
He stops talking for a moment. Looks at us. Nods. Looks away.
THE END.