The Game

It was just an ordinary day for Zack; just like every other day. He stocked the detergent vending machines, wiped down the rows of washers and driers, and checked in the customer’s dry cleaning at the late-night Laundromat.

The work was not particularly hard, but it kept him moving every minute of the day, which might explain his athletic physique, even at his advanced age.

Zack spent the nights sleeping in the backroom on the twin roll- away bed. If you listened carefully you could hear a baseball game on TV as Zack watched it in the dark. As he watched, Zack would hold a baseball in his left hand as if he was about to throw a pitch, just as he did in his “heyday”, when he pitched for a minor league club just over the state line. He was touted as the next Sandy Koufax or Don Drysdale. Zack had all the tools and was on his way to the “BIGS”, until one pitch changed everything.

Zack relived that game over and over in his mind wishing he could take that last pitch back. That pitch ended a promising career. That pitch was not only the last one for Zack, but it was the pitch that ended his love for the game. He sees the devastating fastball leave his hand and knows right away that he has missed his spot by a lot. The ball heads toward the left-handed batter at 95 miles per hour and Zack yells for him to, “watch out”. Too late!! The sickening sound of the ball hitting the batter's helmet silences the crowd of 24,000. The batter fell to the ground in a motionless heap and as the trainers and doctors rushed out to home plate to assist, Zack moved closer to check on his opponent only to be pushed away by his manager. Zack’s concern is replaced by a sickening feeling in his stomach as the doctors try to revive the batter and the ambulance entered the field. It seemed like hours passed as the doctor worked on the batter. As the ambulance arrived at home plate the trainer looked up at his manager and shook his head as if to say,” it’s over”.

Zack turned toward the dugout which was now empty. The sick feeling in his stomach was ever so strong and there were tears running down his face. As he approached the dugout steps, he spotted a young boy behind the dugout and tossed his glove to him. That day Zack left the stadium and disappeared into the darkness of the tunnel and his haunted mind. No one ever knew what happened to Zack the day he left the stadium, never to return; except for the night that he sneaked back into the stadium. He had a baseball in his left hand and a gun in his right hand. As he stood on the pitcher’s mound and remembered that fateful pitch that took his opponent's life. He heard the sickening crack of the ball against the batter’s helmet as he raised the gun to his temple. For some reason, Zack could not pull the trigger. He dropped the baseball and the gun and walked out of the stadium once more.

Zack disappeared into the anonymity of a small town just over the state line where no one would recognize him. He got the job at the Laundromat where he could hide from his past and remain anonymous in his grief. It took him years before he could watch a baseball game on TV and he always held that baseball as if he was ready to pitch again; but of course, that would never happen.

At night, he sat all alone and remembered, he saw the ball hit the batter, Joe Chapman, and he saw Joe crumble to the ground in a motionless pile. Each day Zack cried in silence and loneliness out of the sight of the customers.

He grew used to the routine over the years. Fill the vending machines, take the dry cleaning and wipe down the lines of washers and driers. One morning, as Zack wiped down the neat row of driers a young, a well-dressed man entered the Laundromat. He approached Zack with his hands behind his back. Zack asked, “Can I help you, sir?” The young man smiled at Zack and took a baseball glove from behind his back and said, “Yes you can, would you be kind enough to sign this for me?” Zack replied, “You must have me mixed up with someone else” as the man handed him the glove. It must have been out of instinct that Zack put his hand in the glove and realized it was the very glove that he had thrown into the stands 35 years earlier.

Zack looked up at the young man and asked, “Where did you get this glove?” The young man smiled once again and answered, ‘from you Zack. You threw it to me 35 years ago. I have been looking for you ever since. You’re a hard man to find.”

Zack’s eyes gave him away as he wiped a tear away, remembering what happened that day.

“Would you like to play catch”, the young man asked. “I have another glove in the car.”

Zack was somehow drawn to the young man and could not say no. So out on the sidewalk they played catch for half an hour. It was the first time Zack had thrown the ball since he walked away from the stadium that fateful day and it felt good to him.

“Why would you look for me for all these years?” Zack asked. The young man responded that he “remembered that day and wanted to tell Zack that it wasn’t his fault "and besides, he said,” I wanted to get your autograph on this glove.”

The young man finally admitted that he also had an ulterior motive for tracking Zack down. He told Zack that he was an executive with the league where Zack had played and wanted Zack to come back for the upcoming Old Timers game. Zack hesitated and said, “I don’t think I can do that.” “Well Zack”, the young man responded, “I didn’t search all these years to take NO as an answer. Think about it and I’ll be back tomorrow.”

The young man turned toward the door and began to walk away. Before he reached the doorway, Zack yelled, “HEY, you didn’t tell me your name.” The man walked back over to Zack, put his hand on his shoulder and looked into his eyes and said, "My name is Joe Chapman Jr. Joe Chapman was my dad" and he walked out the door.

All kinds of thoughts went through Zack’s mind. The day he held the gun to his head on the pitcher’s mound and could not pull the trigger, the cheers he had so grown accustomed to and of course Joe Chapman.

Joe Jr. returned the next day and Zack could not say no; not knowing whether it was out of guilt or for the love of the game.

Zack returned to the stadium for Old Timers day and was introduced by Joe Jr. and received a standing ovation and the same cheers he heard 35 years earlier.

As the game ended and the crowd slowly dispersed Joe asked, “Zack, how about a catch?” The two played catch for about 15 minutes when Zack noticed a young boy behind the dugout taking it all in. “Oh, Zack that’s my son, Joe III. The catch ended way too soon for Zack and he walked toward the empty dugout just like he did 35 years ago on that fateful day. As he approached the top step he yelled, “Hey Joe”, the young boy looked up and Zack tossed him his glove.

Zack returned home to the Laundromat and stayed on the job for many years; where he loaded the vending machines, took the dry cleaning from the customers, and wiped down the neat lines of washers and driers.

But once every year Zack returned to the stadium for the Old Timers game where the cheers were just as he remembered and the catch with Joe Jr. became a tradition.