Right Field Memoirs 4

Suniland Park. Miami, Florida. Nineteen Eighties. 10:22 A.M on a Saturday.

So, back out here in prison. Or atleast the baseball diamond's version of it. Solitare. Lonely hell- RIGHT FIELD. Today something embarrassing as hell happened to me. It was the second inning. I was doing my normal right field duties: Yelling "hey batta batta", kicking up grass, punching my glove and thinking about wrestling. I thought, what if Hulk Hogan was a bad guy? Ha, I scoffed at that notion. "that is the most rediculous thing I think I have ever heard in my entire life. Haha, I couldn't even imagine it. I tried. Real hard actually.

We were playing the blue jays. They were not very good. But then again, neither were we. So, although they couldn't seem to hit our pitcher, our pitcher couldn't seem to get the ball over the plate either. So walk after walk led to the EXTREMELY PREDICTABLE end result of a boring right field. I swung myself around still pondering Hogan as a bad guy when it happened. A blue Jay hitter hit a ball down the right field line. At the sound of the bat hitting the ball I sung myself back around clockwise towards home plate and darted my eyes looking for the action. People were looking at me, as I was looking at them. Well, guess what? Just as I swung myself around towards the diamond, I did so in just a fashion where I missed seeing the ball pacing itself down the right field line. They yelled at me to get it. I didn't know what they hell they were talking about, and in my mind I yelled back at them to get it. And then I saw it. I ran to get it. Grabbed it. Threw it in. And became my own team's villan. "So, is this how Hulk Hogan would feel if he actually went bad?", I thought to myself. I payed close attention to the action the rest of the game. No more balls came my way. And bored out of my mind I quickly became. But my eyes were peeled. This F'n Sucks!