Share your thoughts on the The Opposite Field ebook with other internet viewers!

The Opposite Field

A Memoir
Chapter One

I played my Last Little league game on May 12, 1975,a Monday. I know this because it is written on a scuffed and faded Rawlings baseball, in Magic Marker letters that look to be in my twelve-year-old hand. I know the score, too-"Cubs 17, Braves 15" is printed where the seams curl into a horseshoe-and I remember somewhat having been the winning pitcher, my team's only pitcher, which explains how I ended up with the memento.

Prior to that day I had never been happier than I was in Wallace Park, the giant quad of grass and mud across the street from my elementary school. I walked there alone, long before I would have allowed Max to do the same, tramping across as many lawns as I could to keep my Puma cleats from clacking on the pavement. Our uniforms were stitched from the heaviest, nappiest flannel, like Old West pajamas, and we wore genuine stirrups, not stripes dyed onto socks, that rose all the way to our knees. I balanced a flame-tempered Louisville Slugger upside down on my shoulder, with my glove dangling behind from the knob, like a Hobo Kelly knapsack. I fussed over that glove the way a 4-H kid mi ... read full excerpt from: The Opposite Field ebook