Forget the Score

But Stay in Your Own Game

By Steve Carr

November can be rough in eastern Idaho, yet as I flew out of Idaho Falls and looked down on my hometown—only literally, mind you, not figuratively—it was bathed in afternoon sun, serene, greenish-brown, and innocent from fifteen thousand feet. 

The Snake River appeared lazy, slow, and harmless from up here. The baseball diamond looked lonely, anxious for a sandlot game, but instead an orgy of tumbleweeds huddled against an indifferent backstop. It wasn’t quite Norman Rockwell material but from my perspective, not bad.

On a perfect day last summer, I sat behind that indifferent backstop and watched my nephew play baseball. It could have been any youth baseball game in any American town. The parents mostly chatted while batters mostly walked, many never taking a swing, until the scorekeeper called out every fifteen minutes or so, “That’s it, you’ve batted around, new inning.”

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