Pop Fly

Pop Fly

Most boys as kids play baseball in some form or another, either for a little league baseball team or at least in the “Sand Lot.”  Even though I was legally blind all my life we did not really discover what the problem was or how little I could see until I was in the 3rd grade.  That being said I was the kid who nobody wanted to see the ball hit to.  In Oklahoma when I was young they played coaches pitch baseball for the young kids.  The couch of your team would through a slow pitch to you and you would try to hit it while the other team fielded the b all to try to get you out.  The best kid on the team usually played pitcher aid or first base, and the worst kid on the team played deep outfield.  Deep outfield is where I played.  I can’t tell you exactly when it was in the season but it must have been towards the end.  The opposing team’s best hitter got up and he hit a high deep pop fly so far it actually made it to the deep outfield.  I of course was ready.  I stuck my glove up over my head, mostly to protect myself from being hit with the ball, and stood perfectly still.  I don’t think I ever saw the ball and I certainly did not run under it, it just sort of fell out of the air into my mitt.  The crowed cheered in amazement as I began to realize what had happened, I pulled down my glove and looked into it to see a baseball.  I was sure it wasn’t there when I went out to play outfield that inning so that meant… I must have caught it.  My teammates must have been just as surprised as most of them were laughing historically and some rolling on the ground.  I through the ball back in and with a new sense of confidence turned to my mom in the crowed held up one finger and said “That’s one” as if there was going to be any more.  I guess even the bad players get lucky some times. 

By Nick Westerman



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