Bobby

Short/Flash Fiction

He steps back and gazes at the stadium. It is a muddle of colors and sounds and it does not help him concentrate. He spits. He bites his tongue and stares at the pitcher.

The person in front of him is broad and heavy and has already struck out two of his teammates in a single inning. He looks again at the audience and knows this moment to be his once chance to make it big, to break through. If he gets a home run…he doesn’t dwell on the thought. Too much pressure.

He’s missed the ball two times already, but only because he wasn’t ready.

Now he’s ready.

He raises the bat. Slowly. It feels heavier than usual. The pitcher thrusts his arm forward. His clenched hand opens like the jaws of some great beast, and out of it the baseball flies.

He plants his feet firmly in the ground. He grips the bat harder. He stretches the pole of wood out beside him and swings — forcefully. He sees a white flash. Hot pain explodes at the back of his neck.

The ball bounces off his head.

The other kids laugh. “Bobby, Bobby, can never use the bat. Bobby, Bobby — he couldn’t hit a cat!” It sounds stupid, immature, but the kids laugh anyway. The pitcher is laughing too, his belly jiggling with each joyful heave.

He looks up at the audience; his stepfather meets his gaze briefly then looks away. He will never forget that expression.

He walks home and tears his uniform off. He knows his dad will be angry when he sees this. He doesn’t care.

He opens a book, Things Fall Apart, and he reads. He has read a lot before and over the next many years he reads much more; he studies and he reads and he struggles past all the doubt his peers and stepfather heap atop him. He thinks of his mother and that sustains him.

Thirty years later he stands on a podium. There is a crowd before him, a muddle of sounds and colors like there was in that stadium all those years ago. Except this time they cheer him.

“President Nelson,” his wife says, with a light jab to his side, a smile.

He smiles too.

“Bobby, Bobby, Bobby…” the crowd chants.

Thanks for reading Writers Guild — A Penname publication

Share your stories on ManyStories.com to reach more readers. Auto-tweet your stories on repeat with Signal to increase engagement.