Runaway.

 

I cannot stay here in this house on Asbury Street. Two coke lines of town houses that face one another. Large front windows. They pass stories underground to one another. Of how you’d strike me down. A luxury you cannot afford to keep around. I load up my backpack and stash it behind the chair in the living room closest the front door. I plan to leave soon. Destination Ross’s house. I won’t even put on my shoes before I open the door quietly. I hit the pavement running. Running away.

I see you around school. Rebellious type we are. We fight because we don’t know any other way. Like our demons are the same because they are the same. Said, “I slept on the street once. It wasn’t fun. To sneak into Christopher’s house when his family is asleep. Creep into the attic. Knock on the window and run until I see his face in the window. The joy is hollow. Back to Asbury Street.     

It is game 7 of the championship series at the North Side ball park. It is north versus south. On the mound for the South Siders is their ace pitcher Juan Medina. It is the latter innings and Juan has been dominant to this point but for a homerun in the first inning that tied the game at two for the North Siders. Back and forth there are spectacular plays and Medina seems to have been getting stringer as the game went on. It is the top of the seventh inning and the South Siders put a run on the board to take the lead again. Their fans travel well knowing what’s at stake. A sea of black around the first base dugout. A sea of Blue around the third base dugout. Hanging their heads as the opposition has taken a lead from a fast runner from first base on a drive into the gap and overthrow at home plate allowing him to score. The world is watching as Juan Medina takes the mound in the bottom of the seventh inning. The fans in the park at full throat. This is where I come in. but nothing since the first inning with a runner on base when I lined his best pitch into the left field seats. There are no games after this and from my position I would let nothing past me at shortstop. But took the through from centerfield and turned to make a play on the runner that goes over the defenders head to the backstop. On to the eighth inning. Debris go side to side as the South Siders can feel victory in their hands. Evening turn into night. Light of the gloaming touch the moment. Medina felt he was in control of the game. The feeling that he had gotten them the lead. He hadn’t struck the ball or made the error. He joined the celebration with victory in sight. The bottom of the eighth inning the North Side leadoff hitter beats out a ball deep into the gap between third base and short stop. I’m up to bat next. I get the count to one ball and one strike when he takes off for second base. The ball reach the base just after he does and the second baseman bobbles the ball. The next pitch I popped a short fly ball into the outfield and the score again is tied. Juan refused to be taken out of the game. The score is 3-3. I have become Medina’s nemesis. The game goes into extra innings. Juan Medina is still in the game. He hardly seems to have broken a sweat. He likes to pitch inside so he kept hitters on guard in case the ball comes too close inside. There is some chirping from the batters. The tenth inning comes and it is very eventful. The North Siders. Got the first two South Siders to ground out easily before walking the bases loaded. Again the crow is at Crescendo. One hit and they can put the game away. After two pitches a little outside the next two pitches were seen to be a little high to the hitter so he still hadn’t swung. The Next to pitches are called strikes. The fifth pitch is fouled off before the next pitch is right down the middle for strike three. The batter drops the bat and walks away. It is the North Siders turn to bat in the tenth inning. If they score the game is over. Medina comes out to pitch the bottom of the tenth. Right away the first hitter strikes out. I’m the next batter and the park goes silent. I’m his nemesis. Responsible for all the scoring on our side. I take two practice swings and enter the batter’s box. Medina prepared to throw his most important pitch. Slow motion from the moment he threw the pitch and I swung with all my might and the ball elevates into the dark and everyone in the park is watching to see where the ball would land. Would the outfielder have a chance to make a spectacular play. There are no more games after tonight. Could be another hundred years before these two teams play for bragging rights at the championship level. By the time the ball lands in the outfield bleachers Juan Medina had already walked off the field. 

Godfrey Logan

The Game by Godfrey Logan

 

This match was actually played. Names and location have been changed for dramatic effect.

“Hello and welcome to the frigid confines of the Lakefront Stadium. It is the Championship game between the Chicago Football Club and the Visitors. I am Dion Brown, your host for the occasion. Let me tell you there have been a lot of trash talk between the two teams all week. But the Chicago club is a bigger more physical club than the Visitors. With the snow and mud expect them to put the ball in the hands of their veteran running back. The Chicago boys are used to the weather and the play of their brash quarterback. Tall and agile. His accuracy and the league’s best defense make them favored.”

 

It’s a noon kick off. A sunny day and the ball is in the air. The visitors get the ball first. There’s play back and forth. Dirty uniforms. Tenuous footing and overexertion. The gun signals the end of the first half. Scoreless. It isn’t without best efforts by both teams. But in a game like this a single mistake can change the outcome. A pass overthrown by inches off the fingers of the receiver. “Fans, this is what to expect in this climate and what’s on the line. I’ve played in a few games like this. The game is physical and the score is tight.” The visibly dirty home whites. The blood and fights. When it gets to the goal line stand both clubs have stood strong if they even cross midfield.

 

“The second half is ready to start and Chicago gets the ball to start.” The crowd is loud but cannot drown out the sound of the bone rattling hits. Chicago moves the ball with their strong armed quarterback. Picking up chunks of yardage. The crowd gets louder. Once across midfield the visitor’s defense made their presence felt with pressure on the star signal caller. But get close enough to the end zone. The time consuming drive ended with an interception at the goal line. The sidelines are stoic and fatigue show on their face. Chicago thinks the game should played out differently. They game-planned to use their size that got them to this game.

 

“I’m your host for this masterpiece of a game, Dion Brown. If you’re not on the edge of your seats then you’re not feeling your extremities.” The visitors are back to the ground game deep in their own side of the field. He’s fumbled once in the game. Chicago was unable to take advantage and the score reflect the frustration. The snow is coming down heavy as the sun is going down. A mixture of runs and short passes move the visitors cross midfield as the game is winding down under two minutes. Shortly they’ll be within field goal range. Under a minute left to go and momentum clearly in their hands. They decide to run a play they hadn’t all game: a deep pass. Chicago had just stuffed two running plays and the decision to throw it deep is made. Comparison of the two quarterbacks should have given Chicago the edge but desperation throws out all the rules with the clock running and it looking like overtime is coming which would have made this game even more epic. The ball is in the air with the heavy wind and snow and debris. The ball is barely visible once it leaves the QB’s hand scrambling towards the right sideline and lands in the hands visitor’s star receiver. Stretched out fully 6 feet and he held on as the gun signaled the end of the game. “This is Dion Brown signing off after one heck of a game. And things I cannot say on the radio.”