Baseball Narrative

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Pages: 3
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“Alex, you’re supposed to be getting ready for bed. It’s 8 o’clock.” Realizing I had been spotted, I uncurled from under the fluffy brown blanket on the cracked leather of the family room couch. “Just let me see the first batter, then I’ll go up. I’ll still be in bed by 8:30.” My mom refused a rebuttal, and I presumed that meant victory. I didn’t know much about baseball, or sports in general, and had taken a year off from Knothole baseball after my dad passed away a year prior. All I knew was that the Cubs, Dad’s favorite team, were in the Fall Classic. My mom sat down next to me, and I pulled my blanket over her legs as she put her feet up on the ottoman. “The 2-1. That’s in the air to center. Back at the wall, it is.GONE! What a start. Dexter …show more content…
Curled up under the same fluffy brown blanket on a mattress on the family room floor, I take a sip out of my Children’s Hospital cup and down my last set of pills for the day as Elf plays on the TV for the 4th time this week. My mom, more concerned about me than Will Ferrell, rubs my head and gives me one of her patented bear hugs. A post-school 5th grade game of two-hand-touch football was short lived after I tripped and smashed into the square edge of the driveway’s curb, all for the sake of a 5-yard sack. The doctor said I wouldn’t have to go back to the hospital again and that my kidney laceration would close up naturally while the internal bleeding would subside. Fast forward 2 hours and I’m in the ER vomiting up the farfalle and sausage I had for dinner. The aneurysm rupture happened an unusually long time after my collision with the pavement but only 20 minutes into …show more content…
Looking to lighten the mood for both me and my distressed mother, I decided to make use of the play along bingo sheet and my mom crossed out boxes read aloud from the TV as I continued to throw up into a plastic container. 4 months without sports seemed as if it was going to be unbearable, and my mother could sense that. “I might just have to wrap you in bubble wrap before you can get out there again.” Her humor was able to pry out a small smile from my otherwise unwavering thousand-yard stare. I lay on the same cracked leather couch in the family room, under the same brown blanket, focused on solving the new crossword puzzle that my friend had bought for me, in addition to countless other puzzles that had been gifted to me. Sensing my mom’s concern about my overall health, I toss the brown blanket to the side and sit up. “Wanna play Mad Libs?” Now, things have changed since that dreaded night more than 7 years ago. The brown blanket that I had laid under is now unfurled in the dog’s crate as a way to comfort her whenever she has the unfortunate burden of entering her steel
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