The Dream

Austin always has the same dream. It’s the bottom of the ninth. Two outs. A runner on first base and his team down by one run. Austin knocks the donut off his bat and walks confidently to the plate. His dad had shown him a video on YouTube of a baseball player named Kirk Gibson hitting a walk-off home run to win a World Series game. That was his dream. This was his Kirk Gibson moment.

In his dream, Austin stares the pitcher down from across the green grass and brown dirt of the infield. The pitcher has a smirk on his face, but Austin knows he’s scared. One mistake and the game is over. Austin taps his bat on the plate. First the outside corner, then the inside corner. He adjusts the helmet on his head. He takes a couple of practice swings. His pre-pitch routine is second nature to him, he doesn’t even think about it. He’s thinking about the pitcher. What’s he going to throw? He has a good fastball, but he knows I’m a good fastball hitter. His curveball isn’t too bad either, but he can’t command it as well as his fastball. Austin decides to sit “dead red”, meaning he will only swing at fastballs. Lay off any curveballs the pitcher might throw.

The pitcher gets his sign from the catcher, checks on the runner at first base then comes to the set position. Austin digs his back foot into the dirt, tightens his grip on his bat, and leans into the plate. The pitcher lets fly a fastball, headed straight for Austin’s head. In the space of about half a second, Austin ducks his head out of the way and his body hits the ground in a dusty heap. Austin slowly gets back up to his feet, his eyes locked on the pitcher. He refuses to dust himself off. Stepping back into the batter’s box, Austin again digs his back foot into the dirt. The pitcher has a smile on his face now. He thinks he’s in control of the at-bat now, but he’s wrong.

Another sign from the catcher, another check of the runner. The pitcher comes to the set position again. He lets his pitch fly. Austin immediately recognizes that it’s slower than the last pitch: Curveball. He doesn’t swing and watches the pitch drop perfectly into the catcher's mitt in the center of the strike zone. Behind him, the umpire yells strike. Austin had almost forgotten he was back there. The count is 1-1 now. Austin knows that the curveball was a mistake. It wasn’t supposed to be right down the middle, but it was. An easy home run if he would have swung. There’s no way the pitcher will throw that pitch again. Austin knows what pitch is coming next.

For the third time, he digs into the batter’s box. Austin is feeling supremely confident. He goes through his pre-pitch routine, tapping the plate and fixing his helmet. The pitcher gets his sign and comes set. It feels like the entire stadium is holding its collective breath. Both men stare at each other, locked in battle. The pitcher is frozen on the mound. He holds his set position for what feels like an eternity, making Austin wait. Then, just before he lifts his foot to begin his pitch, Austin winks at him.

The pitch is a fastball. The wink distracted the pitcher enough that he sent his fastball right down the middle of the strike zone but this time, Austin was ready. Austin twists his body and unleashes a massive swing, connecting with the ball directly over the plate. The ball explodes off his bat and goes soaring like an eagle over the infield, over the outfield, and finally over the outfield fence for a home run.

Austin watches the ball fly for a few moments, admiring the result of his effort. He jogs confidently around the bases, pumping his fist in the Kirk Gibson manner. As he rounds third base and high-fives his coach, he sees his teammates pouring out of the dugout to meet him at home plate. His teammates are jumping and screaming before he even touches home. They mob him after he crosses the plate, a frenzy of emotion. Three or four of them manage to lift Austin up onto their shoulders. He hears the crowd and his teammates chanting his name as he’s carried off the field a hero. Austin! Austin! Austin!

“…Austin, Austin, Austin,” he slowly realizes that it’s his mother’s voice. “Wake up, dear. You’ve got a baseball game today.”