I played baseball for years. My mom would come to most games, but my dad was always working. When I was 15, my dad finally showed up one night. I was excited. But, that night our catcher Eddie didn't show up for the game and we didn't have a backup. I was the second baseman, and we had another kid that could play there, so I volunteered to be the catcher.
The first kid that got on base tried to steal second. My throw was a perfect strike to the centerfielder, and he easily took third base. Then, he danced off of third daring me to throw, figuring I would overthrow again. But I didn't. I picked him off of third base with a good throw and a great tag by our third baseman Ricky.
I got four hits that night and we won 9 to 4. My dad was so proud that his son had played so well. Unfortunately, he never saw another game that season, and I stopped playing after 16 to get a job. But for one night...
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Actively bouncing aimlessly from set to set trying to accomplish something, but getting nowhere
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