Dizzy McDermott Page #2

I am fascinated by human relationships. I wrote this story inspired by my own childhood with great friends and participation in sports (I was awful!) It is a story about friendship and how tragedy impacted that relationship.

• Short story
• Fiction

								

Choo Choo loved everything trains. Everything. His grandpa was retired from working for the B & O railroad company doing just about every job there was. And after he retired, just a few years after Arthur (Choo Choo’s given name and his grandfather’s name) was born, he would regularly take him down to the rail yard and show him around, introduce him to his former railroad friends and let him climb all around a sidetracked engine or any rail car he wanted to see. The story was that Arthur’s first words were not “mama” or “dada” but “choo choo” and a nickname was born. 
Choo Choo grew up with a natural shotgun punch to his throwing arm and a pitcher’s laser-focused eyes for hitting a target. Problem was, he only had one pitch – hard, fast, and straight. But he had an uncanny feel for the game and a strong intuition about base runners making the perfect skill set for a catcher. And he became a great one. By the time he was 12 years old he had a city-wide reputation for throwing out runners attempting to steal second base – few rarely tried to steal third. Except Dizzy. And that’s how the rivalry became infamous. 
This particular Friday, a hot, before-the-start-of-school late-August Friday, 1963, the rumor got out and spread quickly that Dizzy and Choo Choo were tied 10 – 10 in their steal/no-steal contest. It was the last pick-up game of the summer. Choo Choo and Dizzy, the word was, had decided to make this their last official battle of the season. Choo Choo would soon be attending junior high at the public school and was already recruited to catch for their baseball team – he was almost certainly going to be a starter. Dizzy, heading back to the small Catholic school, was signed-up for the track team. 
The game score was 10 – 2. Dizzy’s team was woefully behind but this game was not about winning or losing. It was the last inning, and Dizzy was at the plate, certainly for the last time in the game. Everyone knew it. The crowd was restless. The rivalry between the two best friends was on the line. There had been about 30 pick-up games this particular summer. Dizzy had 10 successful third-base steals and Choo Choo had 10 successful put-outs. Choo Choo had brought his 14-year-old cousin, a left hander, to pitch in the game. No one complained. Unknown to anyone, however, including his own teammates, his cousin was a ringer. He had been selected for the Little League All Star Team as a pitcher in his nearby hometown every year since he was eight. Dizzy had already struck out two times, 
The two of them exchanged a few words as Dizzy settled into the batter’s box. Choo Choo’s cousin fired two rockets past Dizzy with pitches that he couldn’t even swing at they were so fast and it was quickly 2-and-0. But Choo Choo had had a plan all along. Choo Choo waited until this last at bat because he knew Dizzy would be frustrated and angry that he hadn’t had a chance to steal a base and would be reckless at the first chance to steal if he got on. Choo Choo had set it up that he would get that chance. They glared at each other – Choo Choo adding a sneer through his face mask. His cousin threw the next pitch. A little outside. Ball one. (One of the neighborhood’s older teenagers, Ernie, called balls and strikes for them if he was free, and this particular guy they all trusted to call fairly). He threw again. Low and inside. Ball two. A murmur started among the spectators, typically just a few friends of the players, but today a much bigger audience. A few were slowly beginning to catch on to what was happening: Dizzy was being set up. It was working. Dizzy was growing more agitated with every pitch. The pitch. Ball three. Now everyone saw it. Choo Choo and his cousin had purposely filled the count to three balls and two strikes to rattle Dizzy. His cousin purposely kept shaking his head at Choo Choo who was faking sending signals. It was not lost on a few observers that the two stood just a few yards apart – the catcher with a bullet-speed, accurate arm, and the runner with bullet-speed feet. Jake, the umpire, yelled at the pitcher to hurry up. He finally nodded his head, took forever to wind up and sent the ball right down the middle toward the plate and Dizzy McDermott. No one was fooled – it was obviously much slower and an easy pitch to hit – a gimmee. Dizzy eyed it all the way to the plate and *crack* a low line drive that skimmed the dirt just inside the infield edge and skipped over the grass between the third baseman and the shortstop. But the leftfielder, anticipating where Dizzy was going to put it, had played in closer, scooped up the ball on the run and whipped it to the second baseman, cutting off any chance for Dizzy’s drag-racing-fast running to make it safely to second. He got halfway there but had to hurry back to first when he saw the cut-off throw. Two pitches to the next batter – both low and inside – and Dizzy was standing on second base. Those watching loved it – the drama was thick and tasty. Some would swear later that Choo Choo’s cousin had purposely thrown the pitch low and inside to make it harder for Choo Choo to shoot it out to the second baseman. Others believed that the pitcher was in on it all the time and the throw to second proved it – not very fast and not very accurate. The duel was set. 
But Choo Choo and his cousin had this all planned as well. 
Both Choo Choo and Dizzy knew that it all came down to the next pitch. There were now two outs and the pitcher had run the count up to three-and-two again. Dizzy would have to run, and Choo Choo would have to throw. Choo Choo signaled for high and outside so that when Dizzy took off, he would have to stand to catch it and be in position to throw Dizzy out. Dizzy meanwhile had taken a longer than usual lead off second base. The pitcher started his wind up. Dizzy sidestepped a little more towards third base. The pitcher glanced over his right shoulder at the threatening runner. The third baseman was sweating profusely. He was a talented ballplayer and had faced Dizzy McDermott before. He knew what was coming and was confident and ready. The pitcher stretched, his fingers gripping the ball for a straight-out fast ball. Choo Choo adjusted his squatting position ready for the choreographed pitch. As the pitcher’s arm cocked and came around to release the ball, Dizzy took off, his feet lifting a little cloud of dust as he shot toward third. His cousin’s throw was perfect, and Choo Choo was ready for it. The speeding ball was in and out of his catcher’s mitt in a fraction of a second and on its way to the third baseman who stood slightly bent over in front of the bag, his glove anticipating a low throw so that in one easy catch-sweep-tag motion he would catch the runner’s outstretched hands and arms as he slid toward the bag. Dizzy made a flat-out leap towards the bag. It was over in a flash amid a cloud of baseball diamond dirt. The umpire had run out from behind home plate to get the best angle on the throw and tag attempt. 

								Rate this book:5.0 / 1 vote