Dizzy McDermott Page #3

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

								

But something was wrong. Seriously wrong. Dizzy didn’t move. Not his head, not his hands. Not a muscle. 
Silence. No one moved. They stared at the outstretched body of the young runner. The silence was broken a few seconds later as Choo Choo screamed “Diz!” He ripped off his mask and chest protector, tossed his mitt to the side at the backstop and ran to his prone and very still best friend. Then came the chorus of screams and yells and cries from among the spectators as they caught on to what was happening. A couple of girls started crying out loud. Some of the boys were yelling “Call for help!” and “Get a doctor!” Choo Choo fell on to his knees next to Dizzy, crying as he repeatedly called his name but too afraid to touch his prostrate friend. He leaned back on his feet, his pleas for his best friend to get up were garbled by his pain-filled weeping. A few adults from houses across the street from the field came running out when they heard the commotion. They were trying to keep the young people away from Dizzy and gently but unsuccessfully trying to move Choo Choo away as well. 
One person yelled and then another and it rippled through the crowd: “Dizzy’s dead!” 

A few weeks later the news passed from adult to adult then kid to kid: Dizzy McDermott had had a time bomb ticking in his head. No one, not even the doctors and specialists knew how long or even why. It was a brain aneurysm that just happened to explode when it did. It could have happened anytime, anywhere.
Arthur “Choo Choo” Leonard was not consoled by that news. He packed up his catcher’s equipment in an old cardboard box, put it on a shelf in the basement and never wore them again. He didn’t catch for the public-school team or any team. It wouldn’t be the same without Dizzy – it would be too painful always looking but never finding him. His cousin made the All-Star Team again and went on to pitch for the University of Cincinnati but after a short stint in the minor leagues moved on from baseball and became a manager at a local Kroger’s grocery store. He and Choo Choo never spoke again after that day, not so much because of anger or blame but it was just too hard for Arthur to deal with the memory.
Dizzy was buried in a small Catholic cemetery on the northern side of town. There was a pair of gym shoes engraved on his simple flat, ground level headstone with his name and dates and, next to the shoes, the words: He was fast. Super-fast
Arthur, for his part, tried his best to imitate what he admired so much in his absent best friend. He just couldn’t get it right. He made it through high school okay then went away to college, dropping or not giving his nickname to anyone. His family moved away from the old neighborhood soon after he was away at college, so he didn’t have any reason to go back.
Someone used a wood-burning kit to burn “Dizzy’s Field” on a plank of wood and hung it on the backstop. Time has a way of fading things that we don’t like to remember just as that sign faded and fell away. 
Legend has it, on the last Friday of August before school starts, a brand new official Little League baseball can be found on Dizzy McDermott’s grave. On it, in black magic-marker reads: “10 – 10 forever” for the tie that remains unbroken.

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