[Original: Drabble] "Gotta Know How to Catch" [Zeke Jones, G]
Title: Gotta Know How to Catch
Prompt: writerverse challenge #03 march mini table of doom, prompt #16 ‘let’s end this’
Word Count: 466
Rating: G
Original/Fandom: original ( Zeke Jones ‘verse)
Summary: Zeke plays right field, and she’s pretty good.
Note(s): originally posted to the writerverse wv_library
Gotta Know How to Catch
It wasn’t until Officer Smith started laughing that I realized I had been humming “Right Field” under my breath as we waited for the next pitch. At least it was appropriate, because I was playing right field, but I probably shouldn’t have been so distracted that I could hum without knowing it.
“Hey, batter, batter!” I yelled, smacking my glove with my other hand, which was less than effective, since the other team hadn’t fielded their next batter.
Howell, the second baseman, turned to look at me. “Eyes on the ball, Jones.”
Detective Wu, our pitcher, had the ball, so I called, “Same to you, sir.”
Actually, I wasn’t that bad at baseball. I mean, I’ve always been a nerd and not a jock, but my current occupation kept me in pretty good shape and I’d always had excellent hand-eye coordination. At the very least, I knew all the rules and wouldn’t embarrass my team.
“Boys and girls,” said the captain. “We need an out. One more out and the game is ours. Can you do that?”
“Yes, sir!”
The fire fighters sent up their batter. I only knew his name, Fuller, from seeing it on his uniform jacket, but he was tall and broad, and he held a baseball bat like he knew how to use one.
“Hey, batter, batter!” I yelled gain, which was pretty much all the sports trash talk I knew.
There was a runner on first, and I could see Howell watching her as she jogged in place. Wu would up theatrically- probably he’d watched a few too many baseball movies- and pitched. It was a little off-center but straight, and Fuller’s bat connected with a resounding crack.
The ball arced upward and Albertson, our center fielder, jogged backwards to get underneath it. “I got it,” he repeated, “I got-”
Albertson tripped, sprawling in the grass as the ball soared overhead. I watched its movement, the sun hot on my face even through the factor 100 sunblock I’d slathered on earlier. I stood very still for a long moment, then I raced forward, just behind a dazed-looking Albertson, glove outstretched.
“Catch it! Catch it!” yelled several voices, overlapping.
The ball was falling fast and I made one last leap, landing front-first on the grass, hard enough to knock the wind out of me. Cheers erupted and when I could breathe again, I looked up to see the ball resting squarely in the middle of my glove.
Howell crouched next to me. “That was quite a catch, Jones.”
I let him help me up, still clutching the ball. “Thank you, sir,” I said, before we were swept up into the rest of our precinct, who insisted on taking the world’s best right fielder out for a burger.
Victory tasted pretty good.
THE END
Current Mood:
fangirly
Prompt: writerverse challenge #03 march mini table of doom, prompt #16 ‘let’s end this’
Word Count: 466
Rating: G
Original/Fandom: original ( Zeke Jones ‘verse)
Summary: Zeke plays right field, and she’s pretty good.
Note(s): originally posted to the writerverse wv_library
Gotta Know How to Catch
It wasn’t until Officer Smith started laughing that I realized I had been humming “Right Field” under my breath as we waited for the next pitch. At least it was appropriate, because I was playing right field, but I probably shouldn’t have been so distracted that I could hum without knowing it.
“Hey, batter, batter!” I yelled, smacking my glove with my other hand, which was less than effective, since the other team hadn’t fielded their next batter.
Howell, the second baseman, turned to look at me. “Eyes on the ball, Jones.”
Detective Wu, our pitcher, had the ball, so I called, “Same to you, sir.”
Actually, I wasn’t that bad at baseball. I mean, I’ve always been a nerd and not a jock, but my current occupation kept me in pretty good shape and I’d always had excellent hand-eye coordination. At the very least, I knew all the rules and wouldn’t embarrass my team.
“Boys and girls,” said the captain. “We need an out. One more out and the game is ours. Can you do that?”
“Yes, sir!”
The fire fighters sent up their batter. I only knew his name, Fuller, from seeing it on his uniform jacket, but he was tall and broad, and he held a baseball bat like he knew how to use one.
“Hey, batter, batter!” I yelled gain, which was pretty much all the sports trash talk I knew.
There was a runner on first, and I could see Howell watching her as she jogged in place. Wu would up theatrically- probably he’d watched a few too many baseball movies- and pitched. It was a little off-center but straight, and Fuller’s bat connected with a resounding crack.
The ball arced upward and Albertson, our center fielder, jogged backwards to get underneath it. “I got it,” he repeated, “I got-”
Albertson tripped, sprawling in the grass as the ball soared overhead. I watched its movement, the sun hot on my face even through the factor 100 sunblock I’d slathered on earlier. I stood very still for a long moment, then I raced forward, just behind a dazed-looking Albertson, glove outstretched.
“Catch it! Catch it!” yelled several voices, overlapping.
The ball was falling fast and I made one last leap, landing front-first on the grass, hard enough to knock the wind out of me. Cheers erupted and when I could breathe again, I looked up to see the ball resting squarely in the middle of my glove.
Howell crouched next to me. “That was quite a catch, Jones.”
I let him help me up, still clutching the ball. “Thank you, sir,” I said, before we were swept up into the rest of our precinct, who insisted on taking the world’s best right fielder out for a burger.
Victory tasted pretty good.
THE END
Current Mood:
fangirly