Thawing Out Lazarus

Posted: February 1, 2013 in Uncategorized

The resin on his hands tightened, stuck and restuck on the pine log caught in his grip. He loosened his shoulders with shallow, slowed rotations, once, twice, three times. It felt so good again, so natural to him that he was able to ignore all the messages his body was sending him about age and deterioration. It was a slow pitch, slightly outside, but a good height. He torqued his waist and snapped like a rubber band, making sweet contact with that ball. It wasn’t the cleanest hit of his career, nor would it be the most celebrated, but he sent that ball flying to deep left field, lingering perhaps too long at home plate to admire the distance he’d put between himself and the sailing white sphere. Finally he abandoned his bat and started for first base, feeling the sun beating down on his chin and neck and getting lost in the adrenaline of it all. He’d never play another out in the majors, never sign another million dollar contract, definitely not after that last ghastly endorsement deal, but he would leave his mark on the traditional family reunion softball game. He owed his most loyal fans at least some kind of performance.


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