With two outs and a runner at second, Carlos Martinez stared at the batter.
Cincinnati’s Brandon Phillips hit from the right side.
He twirled his bat like a windmill and braced it against his shoulder.
He waited for his pitch.
At once he swung, cracking a ball with an ominous pop.
And then he stood and watched the ball soar into the blue.
Somewhere in the grassy field, Jon Jay heard that pop.
And he began to run.
The fans stood up, watching the white ball falling.
Something like a baby bird that stretched over the walls of its nest.
Like a bird trying to flap its wings, falling faster and faster.
But Jay kept his pace.
And he reached for it, this bird, and cradled it in his glove.
Jay skidded on his knees and crashed into the wall. But he did not let go.
The inning was over.
And Jay tossed the ball into the stands.
For it seems whether bird or baseball, there is always someone to catch you.
That is, whether in fall or in flight.
by 