Chapter 9

Chapter 9


Each week, between games John runs the fledgling Red sock’s thru especially healthy practices. In those grueling workouts one thing is certain. Sometime, somewhere whether he is shagging fly balls in the outfield. Corralling a sizzling grounder while guarding second base, Or just mulling around the water cooler. Tanner will relentlessly hound John. He will Beg him unceasingly, undaunted he endeavors to chip away at Johns better sense. Even the cynical pessimism of his doubting teammates fail to faze him. God love him, he only seeks one thing, one chance, one person who believes. He only wants to stand on a rubber topped mound and heave an apple sized orb forty long feet.
However, Just as Tanner refuses to relent neither will John. When Frankly cornered by Tanners inescapable hounding and forced to reply. He looks deeply into the paralyzing stare and jettisons his escape pod reply. When your dad tells me your are ready are the words that pile tanners burden of hope upon my shoulder and skillfully Avoids the question like a weaving curve ball displeases the striking blow of a bat.
Returning from another torturous baseball practice Tanner excitedly stormed threw the front door. Charging up the stairs and stuttering he sought me. Ping-ponging down the hall and poking his head in each room he repeatedly called my name. Hearing my name echo throughout the house I followed the verbal vibrations. Worried something was amiss I rushed to him. seeing me, his exacerbated sputtering became increasingly incoherent. numberless vowels and consonants fought for the right to burst into words. Kneeling down I moved my hands across his shoulders. Then warmly smiling I suggested that he relax. Taking in a deep settling Breath he somewhat regained his fleeting composure. After Checking his emotions and deciphering their verbal encryption he began to decode the perplexing word puzzle. Slowly exhaling he spoke in a forced and deliberate tone.
John it seemed, warn down by tanners pestering persistence was considering using him as a relief pitcher in an upcoming game. After a long seasons of ups and downs this game, the last would also sadly bring the season to an abrupt end. Joining Tanner in his stammering exacerbations, I withdrew my cell phone intent on calling the coach. My fingers betrayed my excitement, vibrating like a jackhammer they danced around the key pad. Raising the phone to my ear it began to ring signally the third attempt to dial had been successful.
Overflowing with anxious anticipation, each agonizing ring smothered my evaporating patience. Restless, I began to rhythmically pace, though annoyed by the steady note less tone. Tanner still trembling with boyish excitement intently watched my awkward ballet. An emerging toothy grin pealed back and threatened to avulse his thin lips.
Hearing a cheery voice bid me greetings Mercifully deflated my ballooning angst. John constantly exudes utmost enthusiasm. And Proving my point almost ran me over with his upbeat tone. As usual he was exploiting this sunny disposition to try and suck me into his positive perception of the world.
Having seized my attention he Hastily repeated what Tanner had labored to relay. Stopping mid sentence, he paused shortly, as if second thoughts captured his words. The brutal image of wayward baseballs peppering unwary batters may have been dancing in his head.
Moving forward again with his sentence, he quizzed me about Tanners readiness. In replying, I painted an optimistic picture of tanner’s progress. Then leaving space for the nagging doubt still lingering in my mind. I Finishing my appraisal by expressing concern about breaking his burgeoning confidence.
In my subconscious, in the tiny space that i secretly stuff all unwanted remembrances, one slyly escaped. Cruelly Replaying itself center stage, The vexing image was all to clear. Last season after skillfully wearing down his coaches resistance with a well rehearsed con-job. He convinced the skeptical coach into letting him throw one inning of baseball.
One inning, three outs, how bad could it be. Bad, proving he was far better at sweet-talking than pitching Tanner shockingly hit three of the first five batters he faced.
The painful image of naive batters grimacing with pain and surprise has faded over time. The unforgiving looks of incredulity and disgust sewn on the puckered faces of opposing coaches and parents, I may never forget. Those severe stares quickly buried Tanner in a grave of uncertainty.
Distressed and apologetic John rushed to the mound. Tanner teary eyed and red faced shook like a wet dog. John knelt in front of my setting son, his eyes also welling with tears. As much as he cared for my young man he had no choice. Amid a swelling chorus of cat calls and worse John stretched out a quivering palm and retrieved the game ball from Tanner. devoured by his crushing failure Tanners confidence straightly crashed.
Having accomplished its design the troubling recollection vanished. John sensing my haunted apprehension reminded me again, it was my call. My insides squirming as fading hope and rising fear battled within. I love my children more than my own life and when they hurt, I am also pained. Because of Tanners many challenges I anguished over this decision. The bright hope of Spring seemed to wane. With summers scorching heat my confidence had wilted. After a brief pause I asked John for a few days to ponder before announcing my verdict.