Heads-Up!

Don’t you just love hot dogs at the ballpark, the crack of the bat, and the fans cheering, “Heads-up!”?

As many of you know, I love to write. I don’t do it for a living. It’s just a hobby that I enjoy. So, I don’t have to worry about deadlines and such things. And if writer’s block becomes a problem, I have the luxury of just waiting it out. Because I know that eventually a story will “hit” me, like this one did yesterday at the ball park.

TAKE ME OUT TO THE BALLGAME!

It was a perfect morning for a little league baseball game. Nearly seventy degrees with a slight breeze and lots of bright sunshine. Not a cloud in the sky. The multi-field sports complex was filled to capacity, with several games going on, side by side, simultaneously. I’ve gone to hundreds of my grandkids’ ball games over the years. And in all kinds of weather. But warm sunny days are the best. And to top it off, my eleven-year-old grandson had just hit a home run! Only the second one of his young career so far! And now that I knew he would be sitting on the bench for the rest of the batting order, I took the opportunity to hit the concession stand.

I was walking back to my seat with a ballpark hot dog in hand when I heard the crack of the batter’s bat. From the sound of the bat, it sure sounded like a good, solid, hard hit to me. I heard the Umpire yell, “Foul ball!” I didn’t see the ball or have any idea what direction it was headed. People were pointing high up to the sky at the very, very high pop-up hit and yelling, “Heads-up!” I stopped walking and was standing still on the walkway beside my two sons-in-law and a few other people. We were just off to the side of the batter’s backstop. I did what I always do, and have done hundreds of times when I hear “Heads-up.” I covered my head with my hands. But only with one hand this time because I was holding the hot dog with the other one and didn’t want to get ketchup in my hair. What little hair I have left, that is!

Like I said, I’ve been through this routine hundreds of times before. The ball always hits the ground way over there somewhere. Or in the worst-case scenario, on someone’s car. And a baseball can put a dent in your car! I knew this was a very high hit ball because of the time it took to fall, and the people around me had plenty of time to yell, “Heads-up! Heads-up! Wow, you don’t often hear a double “Heads-up!” I saw my son-in-law raise his hands over our heads in a catching motion, or at least a deflection attempt. I thought to myself, “I don’t know where the ball is, but I’m in the clear now, he’s got this!” He looked up, right into the blinding bright sun, and missed it! And then immediately, CONK!!!! Right on my head, right alongside my hand and fingers that I thought had it covered! Apparently, my hand is just a little bit smaller than my head! And somehow that fast, hard-falling, unimpeded, skull-seeking ball found its target.

Wow! Did that hurt! And I thought to myself, “I’m going down!” That had to be the hardest hit I’ve ever taken to the head in my many years of age. I heard people gasp at the loud sound of the ball hitting my skull, very similar to the sound of a ball hitting a bat. “Oh, my God!” I heard someone say. Alarmed people started to surround me, “Are you okay? Are you okay?” I replied, “I don’t know… I think so.” My daughter said, “Dad, you should sit down.” And I agreed because I was concerned that I might still pass out and collapse or drop to my knees. I sat while they were looking at my head. “Are you okay? Is your vision okay? Are you seeing flashes of light? Do you have a headache? It’s swelling, someone go get ice!” I told them again that I thought I was okay. My vision was clear, and I was hoping I was speaking coherently. But man, it sure did hurt!

One of my daughters returned shortly with a bag of ice. Later, I was told that they were so concerned that they requested medical help at the park office. However, that never happened. I felt pretty sure that I was okay and stayed to watch the rest of the game, with a bag of ice on my head. I heard the fans yell out, several more times around the multi-field park, “Heads-up!” And each time, no matter how far away, I covered my head, not just with my hands, but with both arms folded over top of it. I know it’s not funny, but I had to laugh when I saw my kids and other people around me doing the same thing! We were all gun-shy now!

After the game, as I was standing to leave the little league ballpark, I didn’t even know her, but the nice old lady (probably around my age) who was sitting beside me asked how I was feeling.

I said, “Fine, thanks, but I’m thinking about buying a helmet!”

She replied, “Nah, just bring a glove next time.”

I laughed and said, “Good idea.”

And then she said, “ I gotta tell ya, though, that was a nice save on the hot dog!”

True story!