|
1. Day game. Rain. Dicey field. Two-man crew. I’m in B. R1 goes on the pitch. I “open the gate” and my right foot never stopped sliding. I assumed a leaning rest position parallel to the path of the ball. Surprisingly, I had a great, ground level look at the tag. Out.
2. Another day game. It’s blue and twenty-two. My dish. I'm looking pretty good in my fitted, plate coat. Bases empty. Deep, routine fly to F8. When I went to clear the catcher, I stubbed my right foot into one of his heels. I dropped, tucked and rolled through the RH batter’s box then sprang back up on my feet no worse the wear, except that I was now completely coated in plate dust. If anyone saw me go down, he didn’t mention it…and I didn’t bring it up.
|