Green Expectations by Edward Drobinski - HTML preview
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Chapter 7
TEWKSBURY, NJ 12-22, 23 AND 24-12
Dave fell into a monotonous but necessary routine. His nights were conducive to panic as if he lay alone in the silent bedroom his mind would focus on all the problems, real and potential, that he would be facing. Every creak that the house made in the night winds made him think that somebody or something was inside on their way to get him. He felt certain that given his situation he was on some kind of “shit list.” So he spent his evenings under the blanket on the couch watching ESPC. He became cursorily edified in the arts of chain sawing, cheerleading, archery, holding one’s breath under water, beach volleyball in bikinis and bungee jumping. While he always enjoyed new subjects, most importantly, he got a good night’s sleep.
His Dad visited daily and caught as Dave started to get the splitter over the imaginary plate half the time. This was encouraging to both as almost every hurler who threw this weird pitch did no better. They only used it as a strikeout pitch when they got ahead in the count using the other stuff they more accurately controlled. Dave felt as if he was getting close, but at the same time also knew that to do it in game conditions was another story. Dad invited him back home for Christmas, saying;
“Your mother would like to see you.”
Dave was encouraged. Each day, after his father left, he got twenty balls out of the barn and threw at the mattress. He noticed that when he held the ball between his second and third fingers, keeping them stable, that the ball would regularly sink. His curiosity got the better of him during the course of his rewarding practice and he tried variations to see if anything else could be accomplished, just like all the kids did when he was a youngster. He discovered that if he rolled his third finger that the ball would not only sink, but it would also break like a curve. And if he rolled his second finger it would drop and break like a screwball.
He liked having the larger repertoire, but only threw the
“regular” splitter to his father, not wanting to risk the possibility of being considered an ingrate. He greatly appreciated what the “old man” had taught him.