Beanball (5 page)

My first start.

Coach moved Julio from right to left

and Gordie from left to center.

Ricky went back to right field.

 

I'd been hoping I could break into

the starting lineup, but not this way.

I felt guilty going out there.

If Luke hadn't gotten hurt, I'd still be on the bench.

 

I did okay.

Fielded three grounders cleanly.

Coach hit me eighth.

I didn't get any hits, but it didn't hurt us.

We still won, 7–3.

Luke talked to us today,

thank the Lord.

 

It's been three days of waiting, of watching him,

unrecognizable beneath the thick white bandages.

 

Three days of doctors working to stop the swelling,

to repair fractured bones in his face.

 

Three days without hearing his voice,

of wondering if he would live through the surgeries.

 

Three days of prayer,

never certain if God was even listening.

They say I've been here for three days.

I had no idea.

Today is the first day that doesn't seem like a dream.

 

I try to picture how it happened.

Dawkins was in his stretch, I remember that.

I can see him looking in at me or at his catcher.

That's the last I remember.

I don't remember seeing the ball at all,

or even getting hit.

 

When I woke up in the hospital the first time,

I had no clue why I was here.

All I knew is what people told me.

When I was finally able to mouth some words,

I asked them about the game.

They told me Coach stopped it,

gave the win to Compton.

 

He shouldn't have done that.

Gordie was up next.

We'd have won it, for sure.

It's always a tough decision:

Tell the good news first—

or the bad news?

 

The good news:

Luke's gotten through the most dangerous time.

It was touch-and-go those first few hours.

Dr. Yang was on call in the ER.

He had to insert a cranial drain

to reduce the swelling in Luke's brain.

Luke almost didn't survive the night.

The bleeding and swelling seem under control now.

He appears to be out of danger

with no apparent brain damage.

 

The bad news:

Splintered orbital bones make for a long

and painful recovery time.

Worse still, we won't be able

to save the sight in Luke's left eye.

How can we tell Luke?

It'll kill him.

How can we tell him he'll have sight in only one eye?

All he's worked for, all he's dreamed of,

his whole future—gone.

 

I shouted at the doctor.

I demanded to know what they'd done wrong.

I tried to get them to tell me there was something

they could do to save Luke's sight.

Was everybody in that hospital incompetent?

 

It took a few hours before I could think straight

and apologize for how I'd acted, for the things I'd said.

If
I
can't control my rage, what can I expect from Luke

when he hears those words:

“blind in one eye”?

 

We'll all be there when the doctor tells him.

We'll all be there when he learns

that his life has changed forever.

I feel like a hypocrite, Lord.

Forgive these thoughts I've been having.

It's just that I suddenly have a hard time believing

the lessons I've preached

to my Sunday school classes all these years.

 

It's easy to believe, in the abstract,

that You're always with us,

that You meet our every need.

If somebody else's son were being operated on,

I'd tell his family, “Just have faith.

God is with you. He'll make everything all right.”

But it's
my
son, and what if You can't,

or won't, make everything all right?

 

How can I face my class again?

What can I possibly tell them

that I don't, deep down, feel is a lie?

Help me understand.

 

I know I don't deserve to ask You to heal Luke.

But Luke's deserving. He is.

I'm begging You: Please help him.

They acted like it was good news

when they told me I'd be blind in one eye.

They had these smiles pasted on.

Good news.

Sure.

 

After they left,

I had all night to lie here thinking

about how I've lost everything.

The pills they gave me finally made me sleep,

but I even dreamed about what blindness would be like.

 

While I'm here, they might as well cut off an arm or leg.

Without depth perception, you can't hit a baseball

or catch one, either.

College basketball is out.

Football? I don't know.

With only one good eye,

is it possible to run the ball

and sense the exact moment your blocker

gives you the smallest of openings to shoot through?

Is it possible to make a crisp block?

Or catch a pass?

 

There's hardly been a school day in years

when I haven't had practice or a game in some sport.

What now?

I don't think I could stand just watching the games,

knowing I should be out there playing.

 

“Be thankful you're alive.”

I'll scream if I hear that again.

I swear I will.

Doesn't anybody know there's a big difference

between being alive and
living?

Great news!

The doctor says if there are no complications,

Luke can be moved from the ICU tomorrow.

 

It's the most encouraging thing that's happened

since Luke got here.

My old man doesn't work Saturdays,

so he let me take his truck.

I figured it was time I saw Luke.

I owed him that much.

It was my fault he got hurt.

 

I booted a ball in the sixth.

Cost us two runs.

We shouldn't even have had to bat in the seventh.

 

If they hadn't told me it was him in that bed,

I wouldn't have known by looking.

His face was almost all wrapped in bandages.

The part that wasn't covered was purple as a grape.

 

I don't know who had more trouble

trying to talk,

him or me.

 

 

 

 

Hey, I'd gladly give up sight in one of my eyes

if it meant that Luke could have his sight back.

I mean it.

 

I know what you're thinking:

that it's easy for me to make the offer

when I know it can't happen,

that I'll never actually have to put up or shut up.

 

But it's clear Luke needs two eyes more than I do.

The best I'll ever be in sports

is a decent high school athlete.

I don't have the speed or the size or the talent

to go beyond that. I accept that.

The only reason I'm even as good as I am,

is because I've played with and against Luke for years.

He's made me better.

There are limits, though, and I've about reached mine.

You can't turn a hamburger into a T-bone steak.

I'm about as good right now as I can expect to get.

 

Luke has the talent be a college or even a pro star

in any one of three sports.

But he can't do it with just one eye.

Nothing would make me happier

than to be able to trade

one of my good eyes for Luke's bad one.

I went to the hospital to visit Luke.

Not because I wanted to.

I hate hospitals.

The disgusting smells.

The creepy sounds.

The old people ready to die everywhere you look.

 

But Jennifer, Heather, and Caitlin kept asking me

if I'd gone to see him—

like, just because I've been dating him,

I'm obligated or something.

They wouldn't be so quick to go if it was
their
boyfriend

lying there all gross looking.

 

My stomach started doing little flips

when I saw his face.

I thought I'd barf right there.

And trying to talk to him was awful.

I was in his room for maybe two minutes.

It felt like an hour.

Andy Keller's got some big shoes to fill.

Of course, trying to replace a kid like the Wizard

is darn near impossible.

It would put way too much pressure on the boy

for anybody to expect that of him.

But what Andy lacks in physical skills,

he makes up for in hustle and desire and smarts.

He's a lot like Luke in that regard.

That's what made my decision

to go with Ricky at third to start the season

such a tough one.

 

Andy's as good with the glove as Ricky,

just not as good a hitter.

I'd like for him to get around a bit quicker

on the fastball, but hey,

there aren't many kids I can't say that about.

I don't think I've ever made a better catch

than the one I made in today's game.

I ran deep into left center,

and right before I got to the fence,

I leaped and made a backhand catch.

I can't believe I even got to the ball.

The fact that I caught it surprised me more than anybody.

 

Anyway, when I came off the field after the inning was over,

Andy was waiting for me by third base.

He grinned and said,

“You looked like the Wizard out there!”

The second the words were out,

he got this look on his face

like he'd said something he shouldn't have.

His smile disappeared and he muttered, “Well, almost.”

Today I saw Luke for the first time since his accident.

I hardly recognized him.

I don't know what I expected.

After seeing his face covered with blood that terrible day,

I should have known he'd look bad.

 

At school he always seemed to be smiling.

He didn't smile once today.

I don't know if it's because he can't

or because he just didn't want to.

 

I told him how much everybody misses him

and how anxious we were that he come back soon.

I told him I'd keep him updated

on our research project.

I said he should let me know if he needed anything—

class notes, assignments, things like that.

It was hard trying to carry on a conversation

because he didn't say much,

mostly just Yes, No, Okay, Thanks.

 

I wish I could have done something

or said something

to make him feel better.

Sarah Edgerton came to visit me today.

I was really surprised; I barely know her.

About the only time I'd ever talked to her before

was when we started working together

on our research project for English.

I asked her to be my partner and she agreed.

Actually, I'd wanted Melody to be my partner.

We've dated a lot lately, and I figured

it would give me a chance

to spend time in school with her.

But she paired up with Heather Sullivan.

I thought if I asked another girl to team up with me,

it might make Melody jealous.

Sarah was the only girl I could find

who didn't already have a partner.

 

My plan didn't work, though;

Melody didn't seem to mind.

I guess Gordie's come to see Luke

more times than anybody else from the team—

besides me, that is.

He's got a great bedside manner.