MRs. O'Keefe's Window

We played baseball in Dougie Brewster’s backyard because it was big enough for a diamond and outfield. If there weren’t enough of us for two teams, we played Rotation  Runner-Up. It worked like this. If you made it back to home plate, you were in the line-up for batting. If you didn’t make it back to home plate, struck out or got tagged on one of the bases, you went to the outfield and it rotated thusly until you were back in the line-up.

I wasn’t a great hitter and was lucky to bunt my way to first base. There was that one time I was up at bat that is seared into my memory like it happened yesterday. Two strikes and I was about to strike out when the perfect pitch connected with the sweet spot on my bat. Stunned, I watched the ball soar high in the air, my eyes on it as I jogged to 1^st base. It was a homer! And as the ball arced towards and over the hedge in the outfield, I stopped to hear the beautiful sound of the ball bounce off Kelly O’Keefe’s only concrete paved driveway in the neighborhood.

All the kids ran. I was left standing alone as the ball’s trajectory targeted the center of Mrs. O’Keefe’s living room window. The next sound was a horrific one of breaking glass. Memory doesn’t serve me as to what happened after Mrs. O’Keefe came out yelling. I know that I confessed right away because I was so proud of the hit. Other than that, I know my mom was probably equally pissed because Mrs. O’Keefe likely demanded we pay for the window. It doesn’t matter. I’m sure I rounded the rest of the bases alone and scored home base.

Our best hitter was Dougie Brewster, and I could have run off with the others and the blame would’ve likely been tagged on him.

The point of this little tale has been a lesson learned. Even the hardest earned success has its consequences. No matter how hard I try, no matter how my luck goes my way, there is no shame even if I am left alone on first base, and Mrs. O’Keefe is pissed as hell, I can stand proud. But standing proud when everyone else runs has its price.