Beanball by Gene Fehler Read Free Book Online Page B

showed me an article
    about a college pitcher who was blind in one eye.
    He asked me if I’d sent it.
    I told him I hadn’t,
    but if I’d seen it, I
would
have sent it.
    â€œIf this guy can do it, you can,” I said.
    Â 
    Luke shook his head. “If I were a pitcher, maybe.
    But pitching’s not the same
    as catching fly balls or hitting fastballs.”
    Â 
    â€œYou don’t know until you try,” I said.
    Â 
    â€œSure,” Luke muttered. “Remember when
    Mrs. Trucelli quoted some writer
    about the difference between lightning
    and the lightning bug?”
    Â 
    â€œYeah,” I said. “Mark Twain.”
    Â 
    â€œWell,” Luke said, “there’s a big difference
    between
playing
and just playing.”
    Â 
    I told Luke he was no Mark Twain,
    but I knew what he meant.
Daryl Hucklebee, Oak Grove coach
    Sure, maybe I lied just a bit.
    But not all lies are bad.
    Andy Keller asked me if I would talk to Luke,
    let him know it’s possible
    to play good baseball with just one good eye.
    The truth of the matter is, I doubt it.
    I’ve never seen a one-eyed baseball player.
    Â 
    I know the down side—
    the problems with depth perception:
    picking up the flight of a ball,
    the spin on a pitch.
    But I wasn’t going to focus on the problems.
    I told Luke that the loss of an eye
    shouldn’t keep someone from excelling.
    It all comes down to attitude, to mental toughness.
    It’s mental toughness that helps athletes
    overcome physical disabilities.
    Â 
    Who knows? Maybe I’m right.
Michelle Wallace, Luke’s mother
    Luke seems more upbeat
    than at any time since he got hurt.
    Part of it, I’m sure, is because he knows
    he’ll be able to come home soon.
    Â 
    He’s been so active his whole life,
    and for weeks now he’s been stuck in that hospital bed,
    barely able to move.
    He must feel relieved,
    knowing it won’t be long before he’ll be outside,
    running around again.
    Â 
    The doctor said if everything goes as expected,
    Luke should be able to resume normal activities
    in a few weeks.
    His only limitations will be those imposed
    by his impaired vision,
    and he’ll just have to find out for himself what’s possible.
    Â 
    I was so worried,
    but now it looks as if I’ll have Luke back after all.
    Â 
    Maybe God really was listening.
Larry Wallace, Luke’s father
    Luke and I talked today.
    Really talked.
    It was the first time since he’s been here
    that he’s said more than just a few words to me.
    He showed me some articles he’s been reading.
    He told me he thought I’d sent them to him,
    but I said I hadn’t.
    Â 
    One was about a professional hockey player.
    Luke said if someone with only one eye can play hockey,
    as fast paced as it is, then maybe it’s possible
    to play baseball or football or basketball.
    â€œSure it is,” I said. I told him there wasn’t any reason
    he shouldn’t be able to run and swing a bat
    and throw a pass and shoot a basketball.
    Â 
    â€œI don’t know,” he said. “But I want to give it a try.”
Luke “Wizard” Wallace
    I just got a visit from Kyle Dawkins.
    It was awkward for both of us.
    I was alone when he came to my room.
    Â 
    â€œI’m so sorry, Luke,” he said.
    Then he also apologized for not coming earlier.
    He said he’d been wanting to for weeks,
    but he’d always backed out at the last minute.
    He said he was ashamed to face me.
    Â 
    I didn’t know how to respond.
    Ever since that game, I’ve pictured him in my mind:
    6′4″ and a solid 220, without an ounce of fat.
    I see him staring in before that final pitch,
    the ball in his right hand,
    gleaming bright red like a fireball.
    Â 
    At least that’s my vision of it.
    I think of how I could fling my bat at him,
    knock him right off the mound
    before he can deliver the pitch.
    But I’ve known all