Batter Up – First Base
“Ann, could you please go and tell Paul it’s time for dinner?” “He’s at baseball practice, isn’t he, Mom?” I replied. My brother was the star second baseman on our high school team even though he was only in his junior year. Just a year behind him, in my sophomore year, it was impossible to avoid the stories of what a sports phenom my brother was. In fact, we were a baseball family; Dad had been pretty good at college, Mom played for a while for her corporate fast pitch team, and I had my own chops. “No, that was yesterday. He’s over at the Cartwright’s house, mowing their lawn.” “Won’t he come home when he’s hungry?” I listened for a moment and couldn’t hear a lawn mower across the street and didn’t want the …