After an hour in that little chapel, its air conditioning going full blast, being outside was a relief. The day was warm and sunny, so we stopped at this cafe on a quiet street with outdoor seating. It was almost noon, but nobody was hungry. All we wanted was a place where the three of us could have something to drink and talk for a while before going our separate ways.

During college, we’d had a lot of good times together, along with Lenny. After graduation, we’d seen each other only a few times, mainly at class reunions. This wasn’t a class reunion, but we were together anyway, except for Lenny.

Once our drinks arrived, I thought the guys would say something about Lenny, but they just sat there studying their fingernails, keeping their thoughts to themselves. I decided to speak up, “Mind if I tell you about the last time I saw Lenny?” The guys looked up, mild curiosity on their faces, so I went on. “It was about four, maybe five years ago. Right out of the blue he called and said he was passing through town, and had a few hours before his next flight. Pretty soon we’re having lunch at the airport.”

“Lenny looked good by the way. Some gray in his hair, a little heavier, but health-wise he said he was fine. Anyway, we went over what had been going on in our lives since the last time we talked. Neither of us had much to report, nothing interesting at least, until he mentioned that a few years earlier he’d volunteered to coach a Little League baseball team here in Tucson. They needed coaches, and since he’d played in college, he figured why not? I asked him to tell me about it.”

“At first, it was no big deal, just showing a bunch of little kids how to play baseball, but after a bit of prodding, he told me a story you guys might find interesting. It was about one of the boys who’d signed up, a kid named Sandy. All the other coaches had passed over Sandy when the teams were formed, so he ended up on Lenny’s team. Lenny described him as a sweet little kid who simply couldn’t get the hang of it. He came to all of the practices and worked hard, but it didn’t seem to help.”

“One way to deal with Sandy was to let him play only when the team was safely ahead or far behind, but Lenny wouldn’t do it. He’d promised the boys that if they came to all the practices, they would play at least one inning of every game. He wasn’t going to make an exception for Sandy.”

“Naturally, I wanted to know how everything turned out. ‘Better than expected,’ he said. When the final game of the season arrived, his team was only one game out of first place. Their final game was against the first-place team, and when they played, it all came down to the bottom half of the last inning. Lenny’s team is ahead by one run, but the other team is batting, and the bases are loaded. There are two outs. If the next batter gets a hit, the other team will score one run for sure, probably two. One run will tie the game, two will win it, and if the other team wins, they’ll be this year’s champion. But if Lenny’s team can get this final out, they’ll win, which means they’ll be tied for first place. A few days later, they’d play the same team again, this time for the championship.”

I asked the guys if they got the picture. They nodded, so I continued.

“Okay, remember Sandy? Well, he’s in the game, playing right field. Lenny could take him out and replace him with someone better, but he won’t do it. He’d made a promise, and Sandy still hadn’t played one full inning. The kid was going to stay in.”

“I asked Lenny what happened.”

“What happened, he said, was just as he feared. The next batter lofts a high one into shallow right field. But instead of running toward the infield like he should, Sandy starts back-pedaling toward the fence. When he finally realizes his mistake, he runs frantically toward the spot where the ball was about to land. At the last second, he dives for the ball, face-first, his glove hand open and stretched out in front of him. Incredibly, the ball lands in Sandy’s glove. He holds on, and the hitter is out. Game over.”

“Lenny said there was pandemonium on the field, all the boys rushing out and swarming Sandy, lifting him up on their shoulders. Even the mothers, who always attended the games, were on the field rushing toward Sandy, screaming at the top of their lungs.”

“This was when Lenny stopped talking, teary eyed just like I was, thinking about that little kid. But I knew there was more. He’d told me earlier that if his team won, they’d play the same team again for the championship. I asked him how it turned out.”

“Oh, they killed us this time,” he said; “We ended up in second place. But that was okay.”

“That’s it guys. Lenny’s story.”

For the first time since we’d met up that morning, my friends were smiling. One of them said he was starved, and wanted to order something to eat. The other one looked at me and said, “That’s quite a story. Who made it up, you or Lenny?” We all laughed so hard people were beginning to stare.

A gentle breeze had picked up, just cool enough to keep us comfortable in the mid-day sun. It felt good to be alive, sitting there with two of my oldest friends. I wished Lenny could have been with us, of course. I’d like to think he was here listening in, having a good laugh too.

 

David Summers is a graduate of Knox College, and lives in the Pacific Northwest where he writes short fiction and teaches part time at Bellevue College. His stories have appeared in a variety of publications including Flash Fiction Magazine, RavensPerch, Rathalla Review, Seattle Star, Dissections, Trembling with Fear and the Mystery Tribune.