Marine Corps Stories: Ballin’

The cumberband fastened. Marine Captain Octavio Ontario finished dressing and turned out the lights. He journeyed downstairs out into the November air in Dover, Delaware. He vaped an e-cig and called his girlfriend.

“Yes. I returned it yesterday. Are you almost here?”

Yalara Fipps kissed her teeth. “You know I’m on my way there. I’m less than a mile away.”

“Good. You have to see how fine I look,” Ontario replied.

“Shut up,” she chuckled. “Why is an Air Force base hosting a Marine Corps Ball? We never asked that.”

“Word from on high. The Commandant himself approved it. If they’re not going to recognize their existence we will.”

He capped his e-cig. The car's lights were like stars reflecting in the night. Yalara made a quick turn and pulled up to the curb. Ontario boarded. The couple kissed.

“So what took so long?” Ontario asked.

“You know my hair is my enemy.”

“It looks great.”

“Thanks.”

The vehicle accelerated.

“Hey, the base was back there.”

Yalara grinned like the devil.

“Hey, Ya! Where are we going?”

“Not to a Marine Corps Ball on an Air Force Base, that’s for sure.”

“But we’re both dressed up. I have on my Dress B’s. What are you doing?”

“Shhh….You’ll ruin the moment.”

“What moment? I want to know where you’re taking me!”

Yalara sped up even more, though still within the speed limit.

“I don’t like this, Ya. I’ve never had PTSD on two tours. I’ve been shot at and blown up twice. This isn’t any of that, but it’s getting close,” Ontario said.

Yalara made a sharp turn towards a large building that had blacked out windows.

It looked like an industrial complex building except blue black and no light permitted in or out of the building.

“We’re here,” Yalara announced.

“‘Here’ where?!”

Yalara flashed her devil grin again.

She stepped out of the car in a gorgeous deep purple evening gown. Dripped in gold from earrings to necklace, Yalara held out her hand. Ontario remained in the car for a beat. He exhaled. At that moment, he opened the door. In the light, his midnight blue and sky blue with the Chapultepec blood stripes and his corframs and of course his cumberband all looked inpeccable.

“What the hell, Ya?”

“C’mon. She stretched a hand out and brought him down to the mouth of the building. Two burly guards with thick necks and shiny rings stood in all black.

“Caesar Rodney,” She said. The doors swung open. And the roar of the crowd overwhelmed them.

Let’s go get hot dogs,” Yalara said.

“Okaaay, what the hell is….” Ontario looked and saw nothing but baseballs flying out into the field. The smell of freshly cut grass and cracker jacks stung Ontario’s nose. Yalara smiled.

“Once you get a dog, you’ll be fine, babe,”

Yalara reassured him.

The entire arena showed all Foundational Black American (FBA) teams and they all were women, not playing softball with caged-like helmets but real baseball.

The concessions also featured black men and women catering to the crowd. When they finally purchased their hot dogs, they found their way to their seat.

“Mr. Ontario, Miss Fipps, welcome to tonight’s final game of the FBA Women’s Major League World Series.”

They sat with their food and tried their best not to get a drop on either of their clothes.

“This is nice, right?” Yalara asked and bit into her dog.

“It’s something I didn’t expect this evening,” Ontario responded.

“You’re going to love Jalyncia Levinton. She bats .282. She had twenty seven home runs this season alone. Watch her work,” Yalara commanded.

“How did you know….”

“I used to have an uncle who played. They have the men’s World Series in the summer. Don’t ask me why. Anyway, the women are intense. They get it in that field.”

Ontario felt less apprehensive with the crowd information but still felt a bit uncomfortable in his uniform, squeezed into the seat.

Jalyncia stepped up to the plate. She swung and missed. The next two swings were fouls and a ball. Finally, she batted that ball clean into the stands. Then out went the lights. Complete darkness enveloped the entire arena. Lights on the helmets of the players illuminated.

“What the hell is going on, now?”

“You know how I had to say a password to those two heavies? Well, this whole operation is illegal. They collect money from the concessions and whenever someone hits a homer.”

“Collects?” Ontsrio asked.

“Usually with baseball bats. You can fight, though. I’ll be alright.”

“What the hell?!” Ontario screamed. He grabbed her arm and dragged her up from the seat. He applied the Marine Corps Martial Arts Program (MCMAP) moves to the security and exited.

“Gimme the keys,” He demanded.

She threw them to him. He started the car and stamped the gas pedal.

“I’m going to the Ball. If you want to come, cool. But I’m getting as far away from whatever the hell that was as possible.”

Yalara brought her face up with a silent chuckle. She held out a baseball.

“What is that for?”

“We can sell this on the black market for at least five grand.”

“Damn.”