The Bureau of Dreams to be Continued by Edward Drobinski - HTML preview
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The Bureau of Dreams to be Continued
Page 274
into the ultimate cathedral, the field opens before them magnificently. The grass is impossibly green, the chalk lines crisp, the flags snapping in the breeze. The boy anticipates the day when he will graduate from the half maintained fields on which he now plays; and comes here.
They found their seats and settle into them along the third base line, close enough to see the players’ faces; the way Mantle kicked at the dirt, the way he adjusted his cap before stepping into the batter’s box during batting practice.
The air hums with anticipation. The boy gasps. His father smiles, remembering his own first time. The boy stands on the seat to see better. Mantle jogs out to center field, and the crowd roars. The boy turns to his father, eyes shining. “That’s him, right? That’s Mickey Mantle?”
The father nods. “That’s him, kiddo. Number 7.”