Humor

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Strike three, yer out!!!

Proverbs 16:18 (KJV) PRIDE goeth before destruction, and an haughty spirit before a fall.

It was the bottom of the ninth inning. Live Oak High was playing a school from south Louisiana. The score was tied 2 to 2. Live Oak was at bat with 2 out and the bases were loaded.

The student body kept chanting let Maurice bat, let Maurice bat, let Maurice bat!! I might add here that the name was changed to protect the, in this instance, not so innocent!

I could not help but feel a sense of pride, Maurice being my youngest son and as far as I was concerned the best player on the Junior Varsity team. I had long thought that he should be playing on the Varsity squad and mentioned this regularly to some of the parents. That being said, who would not be proud of his son, a straight A student, playing first base on the JV team, and holding a batting average of 0.500. My pride told me that he could win the game for the School. All he needed was a chance to bat. Slam a hit over third base, the runner on third could run home, the game would be won, and my son would be the hero.

Let Maurice bat, let Maurice bat, let Maurice bat, the students continued to chant.

After what seemed an eternity of being harassed by the student body the coach gave in.

"Maurice, get a bat, you're up" the Coach shouted over the cry of the student body. He didn't seem overjoyed about the game hinging on the bat of a freshman.

My head began to get big, my chest stuck out, and I turned to one of the other parents and said "that is my boy". My son, a designated hitter for one of the older boys on the Varsity! How much better could it get!

Maurice grabs a couple of bats, swings them around his head a couple of times just like the major leaguers do, throws one aside and walks toward the plate. Stops, knocks the dirt from his cleats, reaches down and grabs some dirt with his hands, spits, and looks at the third base coach. The coach gave him the hold sign.

Batter up, the Umpire hollers.

Maurice steps into the batters box, crouches, swings the bat back over his shoulder, looks the pitcher square in the eye as if to say "let it fly pitcher, and I'll knock the cover off it".

The Pitcher goes into a major league windup, steps forward just like all good pitchers do, and sends the ball straight down the middle of the home plate, waist high, just the kind of pitch Maurice liked.

"Strike one," the Umpire hollers.

"What do you mean strike. That ball was a mile outside I shouted".

The Umpire turns and glares at me.

I did not like the look in his eye.

The parent setting next to me moved down a couple of seats.

Maurice looks at the third base coach.

The Coach tells him to hold again.

Maurice steps into the batters box again.

Once again the pitcher slings one right down the middle, waist high!

Strike two, the Umpire yells.

"What do you mean, strike two. Even a blind man could see that the ball was a mile outside".

The Umpire turns and glares at me.

I was getting pretty rowdy by this time. Some of the parents, including my wife, moved to another set of bleachers to finish watching the game.

Maurice looks in the direction of the third base coach. The Coach gives him the go ahead signal. In other words, knock the cover off the ball. Maurice steps into the batters box. The pitcher winds up just like before only this time he throws a sinking curve ball. The ball hits the middle of the home plate but Maurice swings the bat anyway.

"Yer out the Umpire cries". I could not argue with that.

In my hurry to go get Maurice from among a throng of rowdy and disorderly students and to escape the ball field before the Umpire came out, my foot accidentally got caught on the bottom bench of the bleacher. I went face first into the dirt in front of everyone. As my face buried in the dirt I remembered a saying my Dad had taught me "Son, never be too proud to eat dirt". I ate a mouthful of dirt that day. All the parents, including the Umpire, gave me a standing ovation.

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