Austin James: Playing for His Life (Entry 38)
It was 2 a.m. before Austin went to bed. His bags were packed and
downstairs already. He paced his room in search of anything else he
needed to take care of, a bundle of nervous energy. There’s an odd
feeling that results from the mix of fear and eagerness. Austin
couldn’t describe it, but he knew the feeling.
The night went well. Mom made her famous chicken parmigiana, Austin’s
all-time favorite. Dad gave Austin the keys to the Galaxie, the Great
White Hope as they called it. It would be a two-day drive to Florida,
but Dad guaranteed the car would make it, and it would be a piece of
home for Austin to have with him.
He reached into his bag, grabbing three balls – one from each of his high school no-hitters – and put them back on his dresser. They don’t mean anything now he thought to himself. It’s time to move on
And so it was. He’d be up at the crack of dawn, just a few hours from
now, and be on the road. The night was surprisingly free of sentiment,
by design from all fronts, Austin thought, to make it easier. And why
shouldn’t it be easy? This was a hopeful occasion, hope for a future he
so desperately wanted and that everyone wanted for him.
Austin was tired of worrying, tired of regrets and second-guessing and
questioning every move he’d made for the last few months. And, he was
convinced, even if they never said so, his doing that made everyone
around him do it as well. His father, always so sure of everything,
seemed to doubt every move he’d made the second after he’d made it, out
of fear it was the wrong decision for Austin. Nobody should need to
live like that anymore, when what had been given to him was such good
fortune.
Never feel guilty about being fortunate, son…makes it damn hard to be happy
Those words came back to him again. No more guilt.
He was happy and, he realized as he lay down to sleep, he was ready.
Austin James: Playing For His Life (Baseball
Fiction) 