The Last At-Bat

Journal

I was twelve and the worst player on the team.

Coach put me in for the last at-bat of the last game.

I remember the helmet was too big and slid down over my eyes. I remember the dust.

Three pitches. Three swings. Three misses.

I walked back to the bench, and nobody said anything, which was kind of them.

We lost the game anyway.

I still remember the sound the bat made when it cut through the air and hit nothing.

I don't remember the score.