Lessons of the game

“Ball Four!”

The call from the home plate umpire ignited a roar from the crowd as Sycamore High’s season, and its hopes for advancing to the state championship game remained alive. Tommy pumped his fist at the dugout as he headed for first base, rallying his teammates to muster the belief they were not done yet. Everyone in the dugout responded to Tommy drawing the walk with cheers and high-fives. Everyone except for Kyle Sanderson.

Kyle had been holding a bat in his hand the last two innings hoping he would get a chance to redeem his season. As the opposing team was making a pitching change, Kyle was staring intensely at his coach, trying to get him to call Kyle’s number with his team down by a run.

Sycamore’s head coach didn’t even look in Kyle’s direction. And he didn’t need to.

“You ready, Sanderson?” the coach asked.

“Yes sir, I am,” Kyle said as he shot up from his spot on the dugout bench.

“Good, you’re hitting for Johnny.”

After grabbing a helmet, Kyle walked up the dugout steps to the field and headed for the on-deck circle to take some swings while the relief pitcher finished his warm-up throws.

“You got this, Kyle,” Johnny said as he gave Kyle a quick pat on the shoulders. “This is your moment.”

Kyle nodded at Johnny but kept his eyes on the pitcher on the mound. It was Samuel White, who recently accepted a full-ride to Stanford University. After a strong freshman and sophomore campaign, Kyle was considered to be a shoe-in for a Division I scholarship as well. But after a disappointing junior season followed by a shoulder injury that caused him to miss most of his senior year, Kyle was just trying to recapture the love he once had for a game he had been playing since he was five years old.

The game was ready to resume as Kyle approached the plate. He took a peak in the stands where his dad was on his feet with his arms crossed, watching his son intently. Kyle felt the shadow casted by his father before every game, having to live up to the lofty expectations that the Sanderson name carried.

Kyle stepped into the right hand batters box, not bothering to look at the third base coach for signs. There was nothing to signal to Kyle, it was all up to him now. He looked at White, who Kyle had faced a couple times over the years. White featured a fastball (which got him to Stanford), and a slider which had nasty, late-breaking action.

Kyle rested the bat on his shoulders as the pitcher stood on the mound in the stretch, holding the runner at first. As White began his motion home, Kyle raised the bat in preparation for what he assumed would be nothing but gas. And before Kyle could react, the ball smacked the catcher’s glove for a strike. With Kyle missing most of the season due to injury, his timing at the plate had suffered. It had been a while since he’d seen the kind of velocity he was facing now. With that first pitch, Kyle knew he would have to speed it up.

As White started his motion for the next pitch, Kyle heard shouts from the infield signaling that Tommy was attempting to steal second. The pitch was another fastball, this time it was high and out of the strike zone, so it was an easy take for Kyle at the plate. But the high pitch put the catcher in perfect position to make a throw as the ball arrived at second base just as Tommy slid head-first into the bag.

“SAFE!” the umpire shouted at second. Tommy got his left hand on the bag just before the tag, putting the tying run in scoring position.

Kyle got another fastball on the third pitch. He was ready for it and put on a good swing but fouled the ball to the backstop.

I’m on him, Kyle thought.

“Hey blue, can I get time?” Kyle asked the home plate umpire, which he granted.

Kyle stepped out of the box and adjusted his batting gloves. Not that his gloves needed adjusting, he just wanted to take in the moment. This is where he felt at home, on the field. Even with all the unfulfilled expectations, he still loved this game. For as many elements of the game he could control, there were just as many that were out of his hands. And there was beauty in that. Right now, he wasn’t thinking about what could have been, the only thing on his mind was what the next pitch was going to be. 

Slider.

White would be saving it for a two-strike count, Kyle thought. Plus, Kyle showed on the last pitch he was timed to the fastball. He got back in the batter’s box and the umpire signaled the game was ready to proceed.

White came set, and delivered the two-strike pitch. And just as Kyle thought, it was the slider. He immediately recognized the pitch as the seams on the ball appeared like a red dot from the rotation. The pitch was higher in the strike zone than intended which made it more hitable. Kyle put on the swing of his life and the ball exploded off his bat, heading for the outfield in the right-center field gap. As Kyle broke out of the box, he saw the right fielder turn and head toward the outfield wall.

Kyle reached the first base bag, getting ready to round it and head for second in anticipation of the ball falling for a hit. But just as he thought the ball wouldn’t be caught, the right fielder reached out and snagged the ball out of the air just before he crashed into the wall, ending the game and the season for Sycamore High.

Kyle’s heart sank as the right fielder bounced off the wall, and triumphantly pulled the ball out of his glove showing he held on for the catch. The winners erupted in celebration as they stormed out of the dugout to meet on the field. A season that began with so much promise for Sycamore High, was now over.

Kyle saw the dejection of his teammates and coaches as he walked back to the dugout. The first person who greeted him was Johnny.

“You gave it a helluva ride,” Johnny said.

“It wasn’t enough,” Kyle said, shaking his head.

Kyle proceeded into the dugout to join the rest of the team in packing up all their gear.

“Listen up,” said the coach. “Y’all played a great game, had a great season. I know we are all disappointed right now so let’s get our stuff and get on the bus to head home. I’ll address everyone when we get back.”

There were a few grunts of acknowledgement from the players. Kyle grabbed his glove and bag and headed for the bus. Although Kyle’s father would attend every game, he would usually wait to talk about the game with Kyle when he got home. But as Kyle made for the parking lot, he saw his dad waiting next to the bus.

Kyle’s father, Randle, was a star baseball player at Sycamore High and made it as far as Double-A ball at the professional level. Growing up, Kyle was often referred to as “Randy’s kid.” No matter what he did, Kyle always knew people compared him to his father. Randle led his high school teams to three state championships. Kyle never even got to one, and now when his team had its lone chance, he let everyone down.

“Hey son,” Randle said as he met Kyle before he could get on the bus.

“Look dad…I’m sorry.,” Kyle said, choking back tears.

“Listen, I couldn't be more proud of you.”

“But I couldn’t do it. I wanted it so bad, I just wasn’t good enough,” Kyle said, looking down, unable to look his dad in the eyes.

“You can love baseball all you want, but that doesn’t mean it’s gonna love you back,” said his father, who placed both hands on his son’s shoulders. “Look at me. It’s kinda like life. You can give it your all, and you still might not get the result you desire. I know it’s hard to understand right now. But one of the most important things this game teaches you is how to handle failure and setbacks. 

“Now I know all you heard growing up was how great your dad was at this game. And a lot of this stuff came easy to me when I was young. But the reason I didn’t accomplish my dream of playing in the majors is because I didn’t know how to deal with failure. Once it got hard, I didn’t know how to handle it. I blamed everyone and everything except myself. I’m proud of you because you never quit when things weren’t going your way. Even when you were hurt, you still showed up to help your coaches and teammates in any way you could. Those are the traits that matter most and will serve you best in life.”

Kyle took in his father’s words, not really sure how to respond. He had never opened up to Kyle about why he never made it to the majors. Kyle looked over to the bus, and noticed everyone had made it on and he was the last one in the parking lot.

“Hey dad, I think they’re waiting for me,” Kyle said.

“Right, go be with your team.”

Kyle walked over to the door, but before he entered the bus, he looked back at Randy.

“Hey, dad?” Kyle said. His father stopped and turned around, facing his son. “Thanks. I love you.”

“I love you too, son.”