Thank You Yogi

A clear blue sky hung over two young baseball teams who surrounded a chain-link fence backstop, and who stood latticed across an elementary school baseball field. A battle for physical supremacy and bragging rights was underway. Parents and friends were anxiously awaiting the outcome of the last game of the season that would determine who would be champions.

Our team was the red shirt Little League all-stars, playing our rivals the blue shirt Little League all-stars. We had battled fiercely to get to the bottom of the sixth inning; out team was up at bat, and we were losing four to two. I wasn't planning on getting another chance to hit; this was the last inning, and I was the third man down on the roster. Swinging back and forth on the monkey bars, I talked to my coach about the fact that we were going to lose - for only the second time this season. The first loss was to a much older team in Montreal - we were all pretty much ok with that -- they were Goliaths. This second loss was going to hit much harder because we felt we were the better team.

"It ain't over 'til it's over."

Our coach said this, simply and confidently, and my nine-year-old self didn't believe him.

There was a swirl of dust on the ballfield. Two outs, one more, and then that would be that. And then a miracle happened...

Deus ex machina

Kenny got to first on an overthrown ball. Steve hit far outfield and got a double and now we had people on second and third base. I was up at bat, and I could sense the pitcher was getting nervous. First ball, too low. Second ball, a swing and a miss. Third ball, too high. Fourth ball, way outside. Fifth ball, into the dirt. I jogged slowly to first base. I thought to myself, no way I'm going to make it all the way around the bases. I would be the game winning run.

Donald was next up at the plate, and he was a terrible batter. All we could hope for was that he too would walk. Our whole team was chanting his name to give him courage. On a full count, with almost all hope gone, Donald held up short on a swing and got frenzied cheers as he walked to first. We scored a run, it was now four to three, and I was on second base. I was starting to think about what our coach said to me earlier. Could it really be possible that we could win -- defeat our rivals in an unbelievable comeback?

Next was our best hitter, Mike. He was three for three so far in the game. I stared down from second base through the pitcher to home plate. Mike was looking confident. All we needed was another double! Mike swung at an inside ball and drilled it down the first base line. The pitcher sprinted to get the ball as Mike raced to outrun him. The first baseman jogged out to get the ball as well and ended up tangling with the pitcher. They both went to the ground, looking dizzy and dumbfounded. Mike made it to first and we scored another run. The game was tied at four to four. And I was on third; I could be the winning run!

I don't remember who came next to bat. My palms were sweaty, my ears were buzzing, and the world in front of me looked like a shimmering mirage. I was entirely focused on the distance between me and home plate. Everything slowed down to just a moment.

In that moment, the pitcher threw a wild ball that lodged into the backstop. I started hearing people yelling. My feet started moving. I was stealing home! I ran furiously while the catcher desperately tried to pull the ball out. I slid into home plate and heard, "Safe!" It was over, we had won the game. We were champions.

My team lifted me up on their shoulders. Everyone was cheering. I could see my parents' proud smiles. When I was set down, I went to my coach and asked him why he had such faith in us.

"I didn't, but it's an old baseball saying and sometimes it comes true."

It was a message of hope that has stayed with me all my life. When so much of my future life would be a struggle, sometimes I would remember these words, and I would hold out just a bit little longer. I'm still on third, still taking risks, hoping that I make it safely to home.