Yadi stands on deck, chomping on bubble gum. He holds his bat on his shoulder, and swings it across his body. Then he knocks a donut weight off the bat and walks toward home.
He straightens his helmet with his gloved hand. He stares at the dirt, dragging his bat across the plate. What does he think about?
Being great?
If that were true he wouldn’t be good.
But it’s hard to read minds.
It appears that he simply watches the ball, and swings his bat.
He connects. The ball hits the grass with a thud and follows the centerfielder.
Yadi stands at first, but someone will run for him.
Someone will stand in for him.
What a joy that he still stands for himself.
by 