Juiced

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Fantasy  |  House: Booksie Classic
This is just something that I had written

Submitted: February 15, 2008

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Submitted: February 15, 2008

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"Juiced"

As he stepped up to home plate he was obviously nervous because his knees were knocking and his hands were trembling and the sweat was just a pouring off his forehead. He could hear the crowd in the background, some were cheering for him and some were jeering him, because of his batting average. Which for the major leagues isn't so good. He could smell the fresh cut grass mixed with the hotdogs and popcorn being sold at the concession stands. The cry of the umpire saying "Let's go" snapped him back to reality. The butterflies in his stomach really started churning because it was the bottom of the ninth of the 7th game of the "World Series" and the bases are juiced. His team is down three runs at the score of 5-2 and he knows that the only way to win is with a grand salami because there are already 2 outs. The main problem he was facing with the situation is the fact that he had never even got wood on the ball, pitched by this guy in the ten past looks at him. as he stands there and knocks the mud from his cleats, he is thinking to himself out loud I can hit this guy. As he steps right up to the left side of the dish he is looking directly into the sun. He flips down his sunglasses because the eye black he is wearing is doing absolutely nothing for him, ans looks down the right field line to get his sign from his third base coach. The pitcher goes into his wind up. The sun and the butterflies really start to bother him now because with the 2 outs and three ducks on the pond, he knows it's all up to him. He also knows that winning the "World Championship" is all up to him. The pitch is released and looks like it is headed straight for his head. He tries to guess the location the ball will cross the plate at, but the bottom drops out at the last second and the ball bounces once and right into the catcher's glove. he swings away wildly and even though he is wearing batting gloves the bat flies into the third row of seats down the thrid base line. He glares at the pitcher with fire in his eyes. While fighting the sun, he cusses out loud " How and the hell could you make me look so bad? You ass hole." The shried of the umpire saying "Strike One" brings him out of his trance . The nervousness subsides but now he breaks out in a cold sweat. He walks over to the dugout where the bat boy is waiting with three new pieces of lumber. He searches for the one that feels the best and rubs it douwn good with pine tar in hopes it will stay in his hands this time around. As he is doing his he looks in to get his sign. The sign he was given is to square to bunt the pull back and swing. As he is standing back at the dish he looks at the pitcher now in the shadows, he is hoping for the perfect pitch that he can drive over the out field fence. So many things are running through his mind at this point like a triple would at least extend the game and give them a chance to win the game. But his attention is grabbed by the pitch leaving the pitcher hand. He squares to bunt, which causes the first baseman to come in on the grass to field the bunt he pulls back and chokes up on the bat and closes his eyes. The ball is sailing right down Broadway at 90 miles an hour and when he senses the time is right he swings the club with all his might. his eyes snap open as the loud crack echoes through the ball park. It really sounded to him like he got all of that one and that it was well out of the park. He starts running down the first base line and looks up just in time t see the sailing over the fence at the 500 yard mark, which is the deepest part of the stadium. As he continues to round the bases with his fist clenched in victory, all the pitcher can do is hang his head in shame. As today's hero of the game crosses the dish at home his team mates and some of the fans that have ventured onto the field from the stands maul him. Then at that moment his alarm clock buzzes and he realizes it was all a dream.

written by: Jon Penfold


© Copyright 2017 Jon Penfold. All rights reserved.

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