Читать книгу KILLS 99.9% - Patrick Ottuso - Страница 4

On September 6th, 2009, Billy Simpson didn’t know that he had only eight hours left to live. At the age of ten, dying wasn’t even part of his vocabulary. He was acutely aware, though, that Bo Reynolds, the leading home run hitter for the Stadium Avenue All Stars was at bat and pointing the aluminum bat in his direction. Billy was the happiest he had ever been in his life since locking in the position of starting center fielder. His dad would have been very proud of him if he had been watching. But yes, he was watching from heaven…he had been taken to heaven after an aggressive form of leukemia stole him away from Billy last year. Mom was in the stands, though, with that look of consternation on her face. Mom always thought the worst and was afraid he would get hurt playing baseball. Since dad died, mom was as protective as a mother bear for her cub. As a matter of fact, baseball had been a compromise between Billy’s first choice of football and Mom’s dream for her son, the art of tennis. After darting home from school and leaving his school clothes in a small pile in his room, Billy quickly donned the grey and white pinstriped little league uniform. Mom still couldn’t get that grass stain out on the left knee though. He complained about that several times but Mom told him that the stain made him look tough. His green and gold cap topped off the uniform, folded just right to keep the sun out of his eyes while tracking down fly balls. Grabbing his well-oiled Rawlings glove given to him by his dad, he left the house and headed for the park. He almost forgot to take the pocket-sized bottle of hand sanitizer that his mom insisted that he use before each game. She also made sure that he used the stuff before school, at lunch and before dinner: mom hated germs.

Billy knew the outfield well, including its boundaries and how the grass affected ball direction and speed. He also knew that he had 22 feet between his current position and the home run fence. With his brand new Puma cleats, tracking down anything in center field would be a piece of cake. He was tall for his age, taking after his father. Coach Schack knew Billy was made for center field, having great vision, speed and a precision throwing arm. The only thing that bothered Billy was that he couldn’t hit a baseball even if it was handed to him! He would work on his batting next week after school.

Johnny Nestor was a great fastball pitcher, the best in the little league and feared by most. Bo, on the other hand, ate fastballs for breakfast. Today was no different. As the ball hurtled toward home plate, Billy could almost see the twinkle in Bo’s eye as he steered the meat of the bat directly in line with the ball. The proverbial clap of thunder was distinct as the baseball arched skyward toward the center field fence. Billy was on it immediately, backpedaling toward the fence. It would be close but Billy knew that this ball was catchable.With only two feet of calculated distance remaining, it was time to use the fence for leverage and gain height for the jump. Ultimately, the miscalculation was only one or two centimeters shy, but after an amazing catch, Billy’s right wrist came down hard on the aluminum fence post.He hung onto the ball but felt the numbing pain shoot up his arm. The large bruise, the color of a ripe eggplant was almost immediate as was the swelling. The break in the skin was hardly noticeable to the naked eye but disrupted the skin barrier that nature so wisely provided for us. Holding his gloved hand close to his chest, Billy approached the dugout, clearly in pain. Mom was out of the stands like a thoroughbred out of the chute, racing toward her son, fearing the worst. While the hand was not broken, it was definitely swelling at an alarming rate. In addition to the aching and swelling, Billy could swear that he felt something crawling under his skin. Both mom and coach Schack agreed that the doctors at Pelham Memorial Hospital should check Billy’s hand. Billy left Pelham Bay Park that Monday afternoon amidst the cheers of his fellow teammates. He had saved the game!