Part Two:
That Saturday, I arrived at the ball park early. I wanted to see if I
would have a chance to talk to her a little before the game started.
Well, apparently I had gotten there very early. I was the only one
there, except for the groundskeeper, who was just unlocking the gate. I
smiled to myself. Oops. Talk about being overanxious. I took a seat on
the bench behind the catcher’s plate and chatted with the groundskeeper
while he took care of things. He seemed like a nice man. He was in his
late sixties, early seventies, with a full head of silvery gray hair, a
lean body and a loud mouth. He reminded me of my father, and I felt a
pang of nostalgia. I missed him. Perhaps that’s why I found this guy so
easy to talk to. I found out that his name was Ellis, and that he had
been tending grounds for different people all over the state almost all
of his life. He had just lost his wife of forty nine years a couple of
years ago. His face gleamed with a combination of sadness and
remembered joy when he spoke about his dear Clara. We each spoke of our
loved ones, recalling special times spent. By the time people started
rolling in to the park, it was like we were old friends. I sensed
someone behind me, staring at me. I turned and found Amanda watching me
from the end of the bench. Just watching, with a peculiar look on her
face. When she turned away, I was almost disappointed.
“Hey Ellis,” she said in a cheery voice. “How’s the flower beds coming?”
“They’re good Mandy. That little squall last night didn’t harm them a
bit.” After that, he told us that he had to run to the equipment shed
to get something and, with a wave, started walking across the field.
“I didn’t know you preferred to be called Mandy,” I said in surprise.
Amanda sat down next to me and smiled. “I don’t. Normally I hate it.
Ellis is the only one who I’ll let call me that. His sister’s name was
Amanda and he called her Mandy all the time. She died in Korea. I think
he likes to call me Mandy because it reminds him of her. He misses her,
and I think having another Mandy in his life makes him feel like she’s
not so far away.”
Listening to her talk so kindly about the sweet old man made my heart
melt. It was just a casual statement, but it revealed so much to me
about who she was. It told me that she was someone I could easily fall
in love with. I cleared my throat and changed the subject, asking her
about her game today. She seemed to recognize that I was deliberately
changing the subject, but went along with it. She told me about their
opponents, a team from another utility company and their longtime
nemesis.
Finally, it was time for the game to begin. The stadium was filled to
capacity, which actually wasn’t that much. This was, after all, a
fairly small town. However, everyone knew that these two teams had it
in for eachother, so this promised to be an exciting game. The opposing
team won the coin toss and Amanda’s team took their places in the
field. I watched as Amanda settled into place at third base, splaying
her legs and crouching over the base as the first batter took his place
at base.
The game lasted for a little over two hours, each team trying their best
to annihilate the other. It was a brutal game, with several players
hobbling or being carried off the field for injuries. At times it
seemed more like a football game than softball. Although I tried to
watch everyone, my gaze kept drifting back to Amanda. She was a truly
magnificent sight to behold. She played softball like it was a war,
putting everything she had into each move she made.
It was the bottom of the ninth. Amanda was up to bat. So far this
inning, her team hadn’t been able to get anyone on base. The opposing
team had picked off each player in turn. They had one out left and ,of
course, Amanda was at bat. There was the pitch. Amanda connected with a
powerful swing and sent the ball sailing into the air toward third
plate. She had just dropped the bat and was preparing to run when the
umpire yelled “OUT!” Amanda stopped in her tracks and turned in
astonishment at the umpire. She turned to the third baseman, who was
triumphantly waving the ball in the air. He had caught it as it whizzed
past him, taking the last out of the game. Amanda’s team had lost by
one point. I watched as her face fell. I knew she was disappointed and
blamed herself for the loss. She and her teammates walked slowly off
the field as the opposing team started whooping and cheering.
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