Snug
Entry 14
Announcement
Welcome to the final entry of Snug. It was an odd project, but I enjoyed writing it. This last chapter is about six times the length of entries 1 - 12.
I have two new projects in the early stages of development.
A personal commentary on the story of Moses which likely will span three or four weeks.
Another original fiction story. This one is contemporary fantasy, or low fantasy. It’s called this because there is no world building, but all of the fantastical elements of the story take place in our reality.
Enjoy the ending.
Three years later
The announcer’s voice cut through the cool autumn air.
“Bottom of the 6th, the score is still 0-0. Right now there are 2 runners on, 2 outs, two balls, one strike. This is the series every fan wants to see and a game seven no fan will ever forget.”
I blinked hard, and when I opened my eyes my vision was crystal clear, a not so secret trick I stumbled upon to get my vision as crisp as possible. As I stared, the pitcher came into focus, but my mind drifted back to my last at bat.
My last visit to the plate I quickly fell behind in the count 0-2, but battled my way back to 2-2. I was swinging purely on instinct, I struck out staring at an inside slider. I froze as I watched a pitch float teasingly through the strike zone.
This at bat though, I was ahead in the count. I raised my hand to the pitcher, signaling to the umpire and anyone else watching that I needed a timeout. Then, I took a step outside of the batter’s box. The pitcher responded with a menacing sneer, which I met with a shrug.
A quick hitter’s timeout served dual purposes. Reason one, it broke up the pitcher's rhythm, and reason two it allowed me a moment to calm my nerves. I’d never won a championship before and I could feel the immense pressure of the moment slowly crushing me into the ground.
I took two deep breaths and told myself I was swinging away on this next pitch. If I were on the mound I’d throw a strike now, and hope the batter missed. No pitcher wants to dig themselves out of a 3-1 hole, especially not a tired pitcher.
I stepped back into the batter’s box, dug my toes into the dirt, took my stance, squinted at the pitcher and waited for my pitch. The picture started their progression and sent the baseball rocketing my way.
The baseball left the pitcher’s hand resembling a volleyball, I was locked in, and all I had to do was time my swing. I took a deep breath, shifted my hips and let the bat follow its path through the air… crack!
The initial contact stung my ear drums, the pitcher’s head jerked back and up, but my eyes stayed glued to the projectile I’d sent hurtling to the moon. I slowly started to jog towards first base and you could hear a pin drop. The closer the ball got to the back wall, the faster I sprinted. By the time the home run was official, I was sprinting past second, on my way to third, and as I rounded third I let out a conquering roar, “Yes, whooo!”
When my foot touched home plate, the crowd erupted. I spared the pitcher a smirk and rightfully received a curse in exchange, quickly followed by a hat tip. A quick acknowledgement of a match well played. I turned to look at the scoreboard which now read:
Pelicans 3 Mustangs 0
The next batter hit a pop fly into left field that ended the sixth inning. We were now only two innings away from the championship.
“Will we win?” Snug asked.
“It’s definitely possible” I said, as I turned Snug backwards on my head, “for luck” I whispered.
There were no runs scored for the rest of the game. The final two innings turned out to be more of a pitching duel between our closer and their relief pitcher. We just one game seven at home in front of all of our fans.
The stadium was so loud it felt like the very fabric of reality was only a couple of decibels away from being totally ruptured, and we all just kept screaming.
In a euphoric fit I grabbed Snug and flung it skyward, seconds after Snug left my fingers I felt a steady breeze and Snug’s crown caught the wind like a ship’s sail. At that second I realized what I’d done.
The infield was now a mix of fans, reporters, players, umpires, and coaches, it was so crowded that I couldn’t easily move through the throng of people. So I couldn’t keep up as Snug floated further and further away and landed just behind another mob of people.
By the time I got there, Snug was gone, most likely picked up as a souvenir and even though I just had a storybook ending that just happened to be the last of my satisfying career, I knew I’d be moving on with more than a tinge of regret at what I’d lost that night.
43 Years Later
As the years passed Snug became an open secret within my family. No matter how many times I said it, or how hard I tried to convince them, they never really believed Snug was real. Well, no one believed it except my oldest grandchild, the one who’d drive me all around town to different yard and estate sales.
I didn’t go for any other reason than I enjoyed it, and my fellow lover of all things aged, was always with me.
“You’ll never believe what I saw in the paper today!” my oldest grandchild exclaimed.
“I bet I won’t” I dead panned in my usual humorous way.
“Sports yard sale, not more than 15 minutes from here, would you like to check it out?”
“Let’s go check it out right now! I exclaimed.
As we approached the house the first thing that grabbed my attention was the number of sports memorabilia strewn across the lawn and on some nearby tables. It was quite a haul indeed. As I toured the collection my eyes were drawn to an ancient looking baseball glove. I stared at it for a few minutes trying to remember why this particular glove felt so familiar.
My progeny walked over, “is everything okay?”
“Yeah, fine, I’m just trying to remember how I know this glove.”
As they followed my finger's reference they ran over and retrieved the glove and once I held it in my hands I remembered. I had a teammate that would singe the threads on their glove just like this… my head snapped up in realization. I recognized a lot of this stuff. I moved a bit quicker through the yard sale’s items. Spurred on by the faintest glow of hope still burning even though buried long ago.
I walk off the lawn and to one of the tables overflowing with relics, the first table doesn’t have what I’m looking for, so I sneak a quick peek at the adjacent table. I squint as I see the bill of a cap shoved beneath some old newspaper clippings. I shoved away the clippings, grabbed the cap, looked it over once and slipped it on, it still fit.
“Hello Snug”, thought.
Then I received a telepathic response, “ It’s about time.”
I smiled at my friend’s quip and waved down the seller. “How much for this hat!” I shout with far too much enthusiasm for a person buying an old baseball cap from a yard sale.
“That hat, I’d say $3.50.”
I ran over, handed him a $20 while giving my grandchild a nod that it was time to go.
“Wait, I need to get your change.” The seller said, as they noticed me turning to leave.
I looked over my shoulder as I walked away and said, “don’t bother, I just got quite a deal.”
As my grandchild drove us back home I took off Snug and placed him in my grandchild’s lap. I slapped them on the shoulder and said, “I hope you're ready for a wild ride.”
Nice ending!😁
I loved the ending! Haha, I’m thinking back to when I thought Snug was AI