The Last Ball

Short story for 9–12 year olds

Copyright © 2022 Terry Payne

Part 1

Okay, I guess let’s start. Maybe most people are probably here. 

Thanks for coming. Especially with the rain. But it’s not too bad. Oh here, I brought some gum.

Okay, so, I have this thing I wrote. So I’m just going to read it, and then that’ll be it. Maybe some more guys are still coming, but…

Okay: 

This is about Freddy and about the last ball that I hit

Freddy was all our friend, and he was my best friend. Some of you knew him really well, you guys who come over to my house. And I brought him along with whatever we were doing all the time. And my mom brought him to the games, so everyone knew him a little from that. But I don’t know, maybe some of you didn’t know this, but I also brought him out here to this field so I could practice hitting. We did that a lot after school. I would hit it, and he would run and look for it. That was Freddy’s favorite thing in the world. So that’s why I knew he would want to be buried here.

This field is great because it’s so close to my house. But for hitting balls, unless you hit pretty straight, which I don’t, it’s actually the stupidest place, because it’s so easy for them to get lost. Or it would be, if you didn’t have Freddy.

You know I stink. And I know it. I wanted to get better, and that’s why I came here. Well, and also because it was Freddy and my favorite game. But I did wish I could get to where I could get hits once in a while in the games. Or even just one good hit. Even if just one time. I really didn’t get any better. It turns out it’s easy to hit it when you throw it to yourself. Totally different from when a pitcher fires it at you. But I still had fun being out here with Freddy. And he didn’t mind me hitting it wild at all. In fact the longer it took him to find it, the more it seemed like he liked it. Sometimes it took him so long I would go to look for him and I’d see him running around in the bushes or whatever, and you should have seen him, his tail would always be wagging away the whole time. 

But the main thing I want to say about Freddy is that he never gave up. No matter where I hit the ball—and I hit it everywhere you possibly could—there was nowhere where he couldn’t get it finally if he looked long enough. He would just keep looking forever till he did. I will just tell you about this one time as an example, how nothing could stop him. I think I told some of you about this before. This was incredible. I always try not to hit it too far to the right because over the edge it goes down into the estuary. But of course sometimes I do anyways. So it did this one time, and Freddy went down to get it. This time he stayed down there for so long I finally went after him. I stood at the top and looked all around, and I finally saw him way down there: he was in one of the pools in the estuary! He popped up and then he went right back under again. I ran down and he did that I don’t know how many times more, until when I finally got there he came up and this time he had it! He found the ball down at the bottom of that pool! It was a deep pool, and the water was freezing, and he was shivering when he came out. But he was smiling too. He was so happy and proud. He kept looking down at the ball then up at me until I picked it up. I said, “No one’s going to believe this, buddy. You’re incredible!” Freddy was incredible. He worked hard and never got tired. Or maybe he got tired, but he never gave up.

He always did that after he brought the ball back: he would drop it and smile. Freddy had the biggest, happiest smile in the world.  And he’d give his tail a wag. But then as soon as I picked it up he totally changed. He’d close his mouth and put his head low and go like a statue, staring at the ball with all his eyes and ears. Like he wasn’t just playing anymore. Like this was his job and it was serious. And if I waited too long before hitting it again, he could hardly stand it! He’d look back and forth between my eyes and the ball. He was saying, “Okay, hit it! Hit it!” just as clear as if he could really talk. And then when I finally did he went off like a slingshot, and he ran like you’d think he was running the fastest race of his life.

At the end of our time every day, after he brought back the last ball that I hit—I think this was also his favorite thing, or maybe probably his second favorite thing—he’d drop it and I always said the same thing, I’d say, “Thanks, buddy. Keep it now.” And then he knew he could pick it back up and hang on to it till the next day. He would carry it home like he was so proud. He’d keep looking back at me, like to show me what a great thing he had. Or maybe he was saying, “See? I’m keeping it for you.” 

He actually really did seem like he was trying to keep it safe for me. Because then even back at the house, whenever or at least a lot of the time when he would go into another room he would pick it up and bring it with him. My dad thought that was crazy. “Keep those balls out of the house!” But Freddy couldn’t stand it if we did. He had to always know where that ball was. I don’t mean the same ball all the time, like he had a favorite one. We had lots of balls, and I always took at least a couple when we went out, and if one started getting too slimy or started falling apart or whatever I’d just start using another one of them. But for whatever reason, what counted for Freddy was the last one I hit just that day. The one where I said, “Keep it now.” Then until we went out again the next day, that was the one ball that was all he cared about.

And he even slept with it too. Sometimes when it was time for bed we would hear: click click click click click. Freddy was walking round and round the house, and we knew he must have left his ball in a room somewhere and forgot where. He would find it eventually, but sometimes I helped, or pretended to help. Anyways, he wouldn’t go to sleep without it. And then when he did go to sleep, he’d have it practically touching his nose. I thought maybe that way he could know he was keeping it safe for me all night.

Okay, this is just a little thing, but I’m going to write it down and say it at the thing. Sometimes when Freddy was sleeping he’d kick his legs like he was running in his dream, and sometimes his tail would thwack the floor. And I know he wasn’t the only dog who did that, so I don’t know if he was really was dreaming this, but when he did that I used to think maybe he was dreaming about the last ball I hit it that day: Running around and looking and looking for it. And I mean like he’s dreaming the whole thing: how he finally found it, and brought it back to me, and me saying, “Thanks, buddy!” And then he keeps dreaming that we’re going back to the house and everything. I guess he probably didn’t really dream all this, but I even pretended his dream went all the way to where he went to bed with it. So he’s dreaming that it’s right by his nose, so he knows it’s safe. Like it really is, but you know, he’s dreaming that it is too. Once he even barked in his dream kind of, and I thought maybe he was dreaming that someone was trying to steal it. Maybe he really did dream about at least some of that sometimes. He could of. I bet he did.

Oh, but you know how I said sometimes I helped him look for it when he left it in another room? Well, he never needed help finding it when I hit it out in the field. Not once. He watched, and no matter where I hit it, he always found it. He really helped me. He was the best dog you could ever have, and he was my best friend.

Well, there was just once when Freddy couldn’t get my ball, but it wasn’t his fault. That’s what I’m going to tell about now. 

This is the hard part.

There’s this wall. It’s a long low wall that was on our way here. And every time we used to pass it Freddy jumped up on it, as easy as if he was a grasshopper, and ran along it till it ended. Freddy could jump twice as high as that wall, but there was this one day that he didn’t make it. I thought it was just a fluke. But after that he never jumped on that wall any more. And it turns out that was just the beginning. 

Freddy never seemed old to me at all. But it turns out he was. But also something went wrong with his legs. And they got worse fast. The next thing you knew, Freddy, who you guys know how fast he was—he was the fastest dog, at least until Anderson’s brother got his whippet, but he was almost as fast as her—anyways, now he could only trot any more. Or sometimes he’d even walk part of the way to get the ball. And you had to be careful not to hit it too far. But even if it took him longer he still never gave up and still always got it eventually.

But I was so stupid! I should have just stopped bringing him out here at all. Because it wasn’t too long before one day, one of the first few balls I hit, even though I tried not to hit it hard, it went farther than I meant, and really crooked, and it popped up onto the side of that hill. It started to roll down, but then, like it always did, it ended up getting stuck in a bush somewhere along the way. I didn’t see where at all. 

I knew Freddy couldn’t go up that steep anymore. I said, “I’m sorry, buddy, that was my fault. I’ll get it,” and I told him to stay. But of course he wouldn’t, and sure enough he sat down on his butt almost as soon as he started going up the hill. He sat there for a second, then got up and tried again. I didn’t know what to do. I just started going up, and I kept yelling, “Freddy, stay!” I don’t know, I guess I was hoping I’d be lucky and just see it. But I didn’t, and it seemed like it was pretty much going to be impossible. I don’t know how Freddy could ever find it when it was in those bushes. So I went back down and said, “It’s okay, buddy. Come on, we’ll come back and get it tomorrow.” But he wouldn’t listen to me at all. It’s like he couldn’t even hear me. So I finally had to put my belt on his collar to get him home. That was a hard walk home. Freddy never left this field without getting my ball in his life before.

The next day after school, instead of going home first to get him like I always did, I just came straight here. I felt so bad, but I couldn’t bring him because, you know, he would just try to climb that hill again. So, right? I couldn’t bring him any more, ever again. So I don’t know why I told him we would. I shouldn’t of told him that. Anyways I looked for it for a long time that day, and every single day I came back to look some more, because whenever I got back I could see he was hoping I had it. I know because he’d— Well, at first he thought I was coming to get him and bring him out here like always, but after he figured out that I was coming back from the field, he’d look at my hand with that intense look of his, or to see if I was going to bring it out of my bag or anything. And like I was saying, I know it was just that one ball he was looking for, because if I tried to fake him out and hold out just any old one, which I did one time—I acted all excited like this was it (so stupid!)—he gave it a sniff and totally knew it wasn’t it right away. Anyways, I never did find the real one. 

Even though we never came out here again, Freddy and me still played ball every day, just in my yard. That was still all he wanted to do all the time. At least when he wasn’t too tired. Even that little thing compared to what we used to do, even when I would just toss it right to him from just a few feet away, which I had to do eventually: he’d give his tail a wag and give a big smile, just like always. 

Even—

…

You know what, I’m going to skip some of this. Basically, Freddy kept loving to play ball with me more than anything, as long as he could. And finally when he couldn’t anymore… Well, anyway, you know, he died… pretty soon after that.

…

And I really miss him.

…

So… Okay:

My dad dug this grave, and me and my mom brought Freddy out here to bury him. We made a really nice bed for him, with his dog bed down there, and a blanket and everything. And I put all the balls all around him. But the whole time I just kept thinking that all Freddy really would of wanted was just one ball. Just that one that was sitting there somewhere up on that hill. 

See, every night since that day we lost it—I guess I’m going backwards now—Freddy never slept with any ball again. That was another reason I knew he still kept thinking about that one. And then when he died— Well, the first thing I did was run here, and for a while I just sat here. But then all of a sudden it seemed like I still had to find it. In fact like finding it mattered more than ever. Even though what difference did it make now? So I know it was stupid, but still, that’s how I felt, so that’s all I did all the rest of that day that Freddy died was look for that ball. All the way until it was too dark to see anything anymore. And then the next morning—so back to this day I started telling about, when we came to bury him—before we did, first I told my mom to wait, and I looked one last time. I was thinking, at least Freddy could of had it then, sitting down there with him right by his nose where he would have wanted it. But anyways, like I said, I didn’t find it and it’s not down there. It’s fine. Now I know it’s fine, but then it seemed so sad. Like it was the last thing I wish I could have done for Freddy. 

Okay, now you’re really going to think I was going crazy, because even after that, I don’t know why but I still kept looking for that stupid ball. But you know what? That ball that’s on top there? That’s it! I actually finally found it one day. I couldn’t believe it. I ran and showed my mom, and she said why don’t we go back and we could at least put it on top of the grave. So we did. She came with me and we put it there. I said, “There you go, buddy. I’m sorry. I know you wish you had this with you.” 

My mom said, “Freddy’s not down there anymore. Not really. He’s up in heaven now. And they gave him a new ball up there.” But I said, “Freddy only wanted that ball. If he’s up in heaven he’s sorry because he didn’t find it for me. And he probably thinks it’s still lost.”

I still come out here sometimes and I talk to him, but I don’t look down at the grave. After my mom said that about heaven, I don’t know, I think of him as being up in the sky, or maybe sometimes sitting with me—you know, invisible or whatever. Anyways, I think he’s still there somewhere and that maybe he can hear me, and so I talk to him sometimes.

Oh, by the way, here. Freddy doesn’t care about this anymore, does anyone want it? It’s a pretty good ball.

Part 2

Alright, the rest here is about the game Saturday, which I know you guys know about already. Boner, you’re not on our team, but you were there. And Mikey, you weren’t but you know all about it. Everyone already knows all about it, but I wanted to write it down for this thing, so I’m just going to finish reading it, okay?

I didn’t care about baseball at all anymore after that. You don’t know it, but I actually tried to quit, but my mom and dad said I had to at least finish the season. It was almost over by then anyway, so. And then finally there was only one game left—Saturday’s game.

It always sucks playing the Senators because they always smear us. But this time it was especially going to suck because if they beat us they were going to win first in the league—again. And everyone hates those guys, so a lot of guys from other teams were there and were cheering for us and booing them. So you guys tried as hard as ever, and we actually ended up doing really good, even before the fog. 

But then there was that fog.

The weather was fine when the game started. Even though it was a night game it was pretty warm and totally clear. But by the third inning this crazy fog started pouring in. This is what’s stupid about playing on this field that’s right next to Lake Erie. But there was never fog this bad before, or if there was it always lifted pretty soon, but this just kept getting worse and worse. After a couple more innings it looked like a movie. You could barely see the outfielders. It was unbelievable. And kind of cool.

So when the fifth inning ended the umps called a huddle with the coaches and said they thought they should call the game. And this didn’t mean suspend the game, but officially call it—for the Senators! Because they were winning and it turns out you only need five innings for a game to count. But Coach said if we played just one more inning the fog would lift, it had to, and he got everyone to say okay. Even the Senators coach, because they were ahead by two and, you know, it was “just the Pirates,” so.

Anyways, they were up then, and no surprise, they got another run. Which ended up being all they got, but still, now we were behind by three. And it looked like this really might be the last inning, because the fog was still getting worse. It was like any fly ball was practically impossible to catch now. We were just lucky that they hit mostly grounders or line drives that inning.

So here’s what Coach did. This was so smart. He said:­ Try to hit them high. It doesn’t matter at all how far they go, so don’t swing hard, just up. Like you do when we’re giving the outfielders practice, but even higher if you can. Basically, pop-ups, which usually you try not to do. Anyways, so Passarelli did that, and then Tep did too, and it totally worked. The balls went up and disappeared for a second. And then there was a little wind too, so when it came down is wasn’t where the fielders thought so it was even harder to catch. So anyways, first two cracks out of the box, we got both buys on base.

Right away the Senators coach jumped up and went out to the ump. Yeah, all the sudden he was worried. He probably said call the game now, but what the ump did was delay it and see if it would clear up. So we sat around for like fifteen minutes, and then it actually did clear up some. Enough to where we could start playing again. But it didn’t last long. 

Anderson was next and he struck out. So that was bad. But it still seemed like we were okay, because the fog was already starting to come back again, and P.J. was next and he got another perfect pop-up, which got him on base and made it so Passarelli could run home! So now we’re behind by only two again, and we have two guys on base, with still two outs to go. So it seemed like we really had a chance, if we could just get a few more pop-ups like this. 

The Senators obviously knew that too, because now their coach tore out to the ump again. You know what, I think the ump probably would have stopped the game, or at least delayed it again or whatever. But maybe he just didn’t want it to look like their coach could keep telling him what to do, because he started to talk about it at first instead of just saying okay. I don’t know what he said, but whatever it was it made the coach even madder. He got all in the ump’s face, and then that made the ump get mad too. And the coach just kept yelling louder and louder until the ump finally threatened to eject him and then waved the next batter to the plate. So chop!

But then, that chance that we really thought we had? Next thing you know it went out the window in one second when Whitey who was the next batter struck out. Whitey’s one of our best hitters, but like you guys were saying later, it’s actually not so easy to just hit a pop-up. You try to get under it and end up missing it completely. Especially if you swing as hard as Whitey always does, he can’t help himself. Anyways, so now we have only one out left, and of all the people who had to be up next, who did it have to be? And they couldn’t put in a pinch hitter, because I hadn’t played yet, and if this ended up being the last inning, well, you know, they have that thing where everyone has to play.

The whole team gave the biggest groan when Whitey took that last swing, and then that turned into an even bigger groan when I started going to the plate. I don’t blame you. I usually strike out. Sometimes I catch a stupid little piece of it, but I pretty much always end up getting out.

So, the first pitch was perfect and I didn’t even move. (Groan!) Then I wasn’t going to let that happen again, so on the next one I swung away, even though it was way outside. (I wonder if he did that on purpose!) Anyways, strike two. (Groan!) But then on the third one I got lucky. I thought it looked good and swung away again. It actually was high, but I caught the very bottom of it, which, you know, was exactly what we were supposed to do. So it popped up—a really really high pop-up. So high that the catcher was still looking for it to come down when I got to first. 

Well, obviously it did come down by then, just the wind blew it to where no one saw it land. So now the catcher started looking around on the ground, and so were all the rest of them, looking all over the field. 

The umps didn’t call it yet, so Coach had the base coaches wave Tep and P.J. to keep going until they ran home, and then me too until finally I ran home too! So that was three more runs, so we were ahead now, except that no one was really cheering or anything, because we weren’t sure if it really counted. You know, we all figured the ball must have come down foul, because by now it was obvious it wasn’t anywhere on the field. So we just kept looking at the umps, who had gone into another huddle. 

But this was getting ridiculous. So instead of just sitting there everybody started going out to help look for it. All the kids from the dugouts and even people from the stands. I mean like outside the fences, in the stands, in the parking lot, everywhere. 

And meanwhile the coaches had gone onto the field to where the umps were, and they were all arguing. The Senators coach was so loud we could hear him: “What’s the mystery? The wind blew it over a side or the back fence. Or whatever, it doesn’t matter, it didn’t come down on the field, so it’s foul. Make the call! And no, it couldn’t have gone over the outfield fence…” (He said that last part to our coach because in the middle of it our coach said, “Or over the outfield fence.”) So their coach said, “No, because it’s not blowing that way, and even if it was there’s no way it could have gone that far.” And on and on.

Anyways, the umps finally got them to back off and they kept talking. I guess they weren’t agreeing, because they took a long time. But finally the main one turned and faced us, and everyone stopped what they were doing and got quiet.

You could see maybe he was still giving it one last thought, because he just stood there for a minute. But finally he lifted his arm up and twirled his finger in the air, and then pointed to the plate. And we finally could cheer. He was saying it was a home run and the runs counted! The announcer guy sounded like he was for us too, because he practically yelled it: “HOME RUN! SCORE THOSE RUNS!” And the runs went up on the board. (Or at least supposedly they did; you couldn’t even see the board!)

But there was still one more thing. The game wasn’t over yet, because the ump didn’t say if this was the last inning. The other ump went back to first, but the main one kept standing there, so we knew he was thinking about that too now. He was looking all around, you know, at the fog. Then he looked at the other ump again for a second. And then… He did! He waved for the Senators to come off the field! That’s when everyone really went crazy. He was calling the game! 

The Senators, who were already having a fit about the home run, really lost it now. And their coach tore out after the ump again. (Like that was going to do anything!) And their parents were booing and yelling, but they were drowned out by all the cheering. 

We couldn’t believe it. And it’s still hard to: the Pirates beat the Senators! It’s not like we’ve never won a game before, but this was the best one ever. (Okay, so maybe it was because of a fluke, but who cares?) And you guys were patting me and everything. That was the first time I was happy in a long time. I just kept smiling and smiling. 

But why I was so happy wasn’t what people thought. I’m going to say why in a minute. But first, just this one last part.

First of all, why the ump said my hit counted. It turns out there’s this rule that if there’s a play where the umpire couldn’t see enough to know what happened, he’s suppose to give the benefit of the doubt to the offense. So that’s the rule the umps said they had to use. 

But the Senators are fighting it all the way. Because, you know, it wasn’t just the game, but it meant the championship for them. So right away their coach put in a protest to the league. I don’t know what all it says. I heard it says a few things. And if the league upheld even one of them, we would have to go back and play out the rest of the innings. But they didn’t. They aren’t saying if they agree with the ump or not, because they say whether they do or don’t it doesn’t matter. If an ump’s decisions are judgment calls, and they all were, then you can’t overrule them.

So that’s it. The Senators came in second this year, and now all their coach can do is try to get that ump fired. So he’s going around with a petition about that. And him and all the team and even some of their parents are spreading it around that one of us obviously found the ball and pocketed it. And they say they’re going to boycott the awards ceremony. And on and on. Whatever. Cry babies!

I don’t really care about any of that. Here’s the main thing I wanted to say, and basically the reason I wrote all this: Why I was so happy after the game wasn’t because I finally got a hit, or because we won, or because everyone cheered and patted me or any of that. It was because I knew what happened. As soon as that ball never came down I knew where it went. 

I’ve actually already told you guys what I think. And I know you think I’m stupid, so I guess I won’t say it again here. God even I know how stupid it sounds too. But I don’t care, I still believe it.

So that’s why I was smiling: because I knew Freddy was. Even though I couldn’t see him, I didn’t have to. I felt like I could see him just as clear as if I really could. Just like I’ve seen him a million times before, when he was so happy and proud, with that great big smile, and his tail wagging and wagging away. Waiting for me to s—

Shut up! Okay, that’s basically it anyways. Thank you guys again for coming.

…

SEE YA!

…

Thanks, buddy. Keep it now. Keep it safe for me.