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Steve Likes to Curse
Writing, comics and random thoughts from really a rather vulgar man
Scraps 
Thursday, October 12th, 2006 | 07:13 pm [baseball, fiction, writing]
Steve

I wrote this today in the truck after taking a nice walk through the woods at college.  I think it’s a piece of something bigger, I just need to get around to writing the rest of it.  For now, I like how it sounds and just wanted to share.  ‘Cause I’m just that kind of guy, I guess.  So here it is: 

 

Out from the woods and there in front of him stood the baseball field, stripped and abandoned for the winter.  Outside the fence he traced the perimeter, past the shuttered concession stand, behind the backstop rear of home plate.  He walked up the third base side, curved along following the outfield fence.  Thick healthy pines—spruces—grew just this side of the field, topping the fence by ten feet.  The gate at the right field corner was open and he walked through into the bullpen, and from there onto the outfield.  He walked down the line toward the home dugout.  No relief pitcher—a starter—a starter called in to bail out their ace, a starter who could have saved them the trouble had they given him the ball to begin with.  The bulletin board in the dugout still had the starters for the last week of the season tacked up.  He stood behind home plate, half covered over with brown clay dirt.  He paced the infield, to the metal anchor that marked first base, to the point directly behind the pitcher’s mound where second base belonged, to the metal anchor for third base.  The baseline on this side remained, scattered and faded, running from home to third and out into left field where it died in the grass.  He stood with both feet on home plate, looking out across the field.  He crossed the distance to the mound and stood on the rubber.  It was cool but not enough to require a jacket or long sleeves.  The sun was bright but there were enough clouds to keep it out of your eyes most of the time.  Wind blew in from right field—not hard, just enough to keep the high lazy ones in the ballpark.  He turned sideways and eyeballed the plate.  Sixty and one-half feet away, yet it seemed so close.  It would have been a good day for a game.

      Returning a different way, jumped the fence and crossed the track which was also a soccer field.  On the other side, he saw an opening in the trees and re-entered the woods.  He came to a rabbit trail leading off the main path.  Two green thorny vines grew on either side, crossing to form a gate.  He pushed the vines aside and took the trail deeper into the woods.  It was open, clearly had been walked on many times by feet larger than a rabbit’s.  This is probably where they come to smoke dope, he thought.  He stood at the trunk of a nice big walnut tree, unzipped his pants and pissed as if to say, “Here’s what I think of you.”

Comments 
Sunday, October 15th, 2006 | 04:25 am (UTC) - Hmmmm....
Anonymous
Ha! I finally figured a way to comment on your blog. Anyway, I like this, though it kind of lost me with all the baseball shite, but you know me. Also, there's a funny English-y thing that I came across that cracked me up...."He crossed the distance to the mound and stood on the rubber. It was cool but not enough to require a jacket or long sleeves." Was the RUBBER cool but not cold enough to require a jacket? Har har har, god I'm such a prick. I love you, baby. This piece has good atomsphere. I'm not really big into writing about writing since I think it's rather pretentious and asshole-licious, but I'd give it the clap. I mean applause.

Love,
Ashley
Sunday, October 15th, 2006 | 04:27 am (UTC) - Atomsphere
Anonymous
Atomsphere is very important. It takes it down to the granular level.

Ash
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