Behind 3rd base

___

When I was ten, I went to a baseball game expecting nothing more than hot sun, a crowd full of cheers, and maybe a win for our team. What I didn’t expect was to end up saving a little girl’s life — or to carry that memory with me for decades to come.

___

I remember it still, though I was just ten,

a hot summer day at the ballpark again.

The bases were loaded, the crowd full of cheer,

one crack of the bat held the moment we feared.

I climbed the steep bleachers to find my own seat,

waving at neighbors and friends I would meet.

The game held their eyes, the field was alive,

one swing of the bat kept our team in the drive.

Then suddenly, gasps — I turned at the sound,

a hush fell at once on the crowd all around.

A toddler too little, with ribbons and bows,

had leaned back too far — and her father lost hold.

Backwards she toppled, her fall was so steep,

a silence descended, the kind that cuts deep.

Without a thought, I lunged in her path,

pushed her back up to her father's loving grasp.

But balance betrayed me, my own feet gave out,

down rows of hard bleachers I tumbled about.

The pitcher called, “Strike three!” The inning was done,

as I landed bruised, battered, my breath nearly gone.

Parents rushed forward, I asked with a grin,

“I’m sore as can be but hey, did we win?”

They said, “Don’t move, child, you may have a break,”

but all I could think of was runs we might make.

The hospital trip was a blur in my head,

but bones were unbroken, just bruises instead.

The girl’s grateful parents came searching for me,

called me a hero — I just shook my head quietly.

That night I got ice cream for being so brave,

though the bruises and scrapes were the gift baseball gave.

And years later still, when our paths crossed again,

she told me a truth that sank deep within:

“You saved me that day, I was barely age three then.

Without you, I don’t know what might have been.

Now I have children, I watch as they grow —

and pray they find courage like yours to bestow.”

Thanks for reading! -- Sam