The Deal(Luke McDonald) The Deal

We were trailing by 2 runs in the bottom of the 7th on that misty summer night. It was the championship game for the Danvers thirteen- year-old all-stars. The team had come so far as a unit since the start of the tournament; I never expected the amount of success we were able to produce. We weren’t all exceptional athletes; somehow we managed to weasel our way through the winner’s bracket. It was the final game for everybody, but more importantly it was my last game here. My family was scheduled to move to Ohio the next day.
When the lead was lost in the top of the seventh, the sense of defeat hung in the air, a cancer to our success. The dugout was dead. Despite the rocky roads we’d overcome in past games we had no more fight. My teammates were loud and rowdy as the first pitch of the game was thrown, but the confidence started to recede. Our high spirits were shot down and replaced with defeat. We lost all motivation, all resilience, all battle, and all heart. My coach kept trying to rile the team up by saying, “The game is not over, you guys. Buckle down and get down to business!” but the atmosphere never altered.
I sat in the dugout almost feeling sorry for myself. It was my last night in Danvers ever, as far as I knew. I certainly enjoyed staying in that town for as long as I could have. My parents told me as long as I kept alive in the playoffs, the longer we’d put off moving. This was it. No more worrying about the date we were destined to move. The only thing I needed to worry about was here and now; I needed to get this win. As sulked by myself on the corner of the bench something clicked. The game really was not over.
I stood up furious; I would not be let down. Not tonight. “Are you guys serious?” I almost yelled, “Are we really going to lose to a team half as good as us? They don’t have half our talent! Why can’t we come back like we did last game?” I looked each one of them in the eyes; they mustered up no response. “I refuse to lie down. Tonight’s the night we show our balls on the field,” that got them to giggle and lighten up a little. I usually didn’t speak up like this. What we needed to win was a leader, and that was precisely what we lacked the most. It was time to step up.
“Ok guys, here’s the deal. As you may know we are behind by two runs. That’s a piece of cake. Mikey’s leading off this inning and we all know he likes cake.” The tension in the air was broken as we all started to wake up. I could hear the faith bubble in our stomachs. I looked directly towards Mikey, “Mikey we need you on. No matter what it takes I want to see you on first base.” He gave me a nod of approval. “Ryan, I need you to do the same. Take one for the team if you need to. We’ve got ice packs.”
The first pitch of the inning was thrown, Mikey swung the bat, hitting a soft grounder through the 3rd base gap for a single. The bench started banging on the fence, cheering on their teammate for getting the job done. Ryan stepped up to the plate. Two balls were thrown and on the third pitch, a fastball aimed right for his left shoulder hit him with a thud. He shook his arm as if the pain would fall off as he jogged slowly to first. The next batter walked on four straight balls. This pitcher seemed to be cracking under pressure. The next batter, my old friend and teammate Bobby, wasn’t able to produce as the arguable third strike was called. Our right fielder Dan was now up. On the first pitch he hit a sky high bomb that sent the left fielder back to the fence, but he was able to leap and grab the ball from the air. I was swinging the bat in the on deck circle as I watched the play turn out. Mikey never tagged up, forced to go back to third from his mistake. Now it was my turn to give it a shot. As I walked up to the plate their coach called time out to talk to his stud pitcher. As I was standing there by myself anxious to get up to bat, I remembered the proposition my father offered me at the start of the summer. “I’ll make a deal with you. As long as you keep winning, we stay.” Moving was inevitable, but as long as I played my heart out on the field and won games, I could enjoy more summer activities with my closest friends. I milked out as much of the summer as I could get; I practiced as hard as I could every day and most importantly my team and I got the W’s.
This was the moment it all came down to. With 2 outs in the bottom of the 7th in the championship game of the series, this was the opportunity I dreamed of every night I went to bed as a 13 year old. I imagined myself hitting home runs to win the game countless times throughout my childhood. Of course it was only pretending, but this was a chance I might never get again. The best part about this situation was I thrived under pressure. When the heat is on and the odds are low, I get my toughest. I turned into a hardnosed prick who you would never want to meet on the other side of the ball. I hated losing more then I loved winning and that is something I have taken with me during the course of my life.
The coach was satisfied with the pitcher’s response and he walked to the bench with a confident strut. The pitcher stared down home plate waiting for the call. I stood on the balls of my feet patiently waiting for the delivery. “Strike one!” the umpire roached as the ball hit the outside corner of the plate. Unfazed, I looked down to the 3rd base line for a signal from coach. After a series of belt, shoulder, arm, and hat touches I was told to swing away. I got back in the batter’s box and eyed the pitcher. A curve ball was thrown over the middle of the plate for strike two. I stepped out of the box, wiggled the bat and took three deep breaths. The next pitch I saw was a juicy fastball over on the inside corner. I turned on it and drove it deep hitting the 335 foot fence clearing the bases with a triple. We won the game.
During the award ceremony I received many congratulations by parents, teammates and coaches, and then I went directly home. We turned left onto Buxton lane and up to the top of the rocky driveway. I stepped out of the car and into the cool air as my parents babbled out how terrific the game was. I walked with them for a couple paces then paused. Beyond them talking ecstatically, I noticed how peaceful the woods were. The trees stood silently looking over the house. The only noises to be heard were the branches creaking from the wind, and the crickets chirping into the night. I looked into the yard with sorrow; I would miss these times. Most summer nights I would find myself roaming free in the forest. Not a single worry lingered in my mind as I ran in the opposite direction from home, running from the problems I didn’t want to face. I wish I could have dropped my gear and disappeared into the darkness, alluding reality. I looked over to the front door to where my parents would have been, and they weren’t there. If I were to have any chance to run away, now was my chance. I could run away and never be heard from again, but I knew all along that wasn’t an option.
I woke up the next morning still feeling high from that incredible win. But as I looked around the room to see nothing but a few boxes, suddenly the emptiness of never returning hit me. I walked through the cleared-out house and took one last look at everything. The balcony where one of my stupid kittens jumped to its death, the kitchen where my stove caught on fire after I left pizza bites in too long. I have grown up a lot in that house on the edge of the woods. So many life lessons learned, so much time spent in the yard playing with my neighbors and siblings; I was really going to miss this place. My parents ushered me outside the front door and into the car; I looked at my yard and yonder with one foot in the car and one foot out. Hundreds of memories soared through my head and heart. I said good bye to the one place I’ve ever loved and never looked back.

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