Blades of Fresh Cut Grass

Blades of Fresh     Cut Grass
        by
Randy Chavez

The early morning fog hovers above the wet blades of fresh cut grass~

That smell brings me back to when the morning dew kicked off the little cleats, where the raked dirt and crisp white chalk lines meet.

But, In the end what remains are the impressions left in sand and clay, marked in
chalk-mixed-dirt of all the tiny running feet, where we gathered to compete.

We ran to bases, all around the City, in so many places, we played many Teams on fields full of dreams, with so many different faces.

You make it to first, as you learn, you take the turn around the base, next time even better capitalize from any mistakes, you take this chance as your skills advance and now you slide into second base~ That's heads up!!!  Get a good jump, be ready to freeze, be ready to run. Here's the pitch the ball is hit to right it gets through, At the same time, you break for the next base, there's a huge commotion, "RUN!!!"  The Coach's arm is in motion, you have the green light, use all you've learned all those drills, now it should be second nature as you come around to third~
This is how it's done,  
hit the inside corner of the bag, push off the left foot don't miss a stride, as you fly by that's how it goes, taught by Coach's that know. Run fast as hard as you can, get down the line, your in full locomotion, there's much faster guys!!!
Don't run out of steam, never give up, even when your legs feel like  running in mud.

Dig down deep from within, think of the team.
The voice in your head says, C'mon Run Son don't be late!!!
Here comes the throw to the plate!!!

At this level everyone playing is nearly a pro.You studied the players before the game the Right Fielder has a cannon for an arm with perfect aim born to throw. What is my fate today??? My destiny awaits. With every last bit of strength in my soul, pushing my limits unable to breath nearly blacking out as I push myself ever closer and now I can hear the ball sizzle as it cuts through the air right next to my ear, I dive head first away from the tag, touch the plate with the tip of my hand  "SAFE!!!" The Winning Run!!! Champions!!! Mobbed by your Team, a waking dream, the dust still in the air mixes with the clamber from everywhere, We Won!!!
Glory days, shinning like diamonds sparkling in the Sun.

Sometimes you win~ sometimes you'll lose,
But I'd take a loss just to have a chance to play, than to be rained out
and not play all day~

Put away your glove,
it's starting to rain~ "Ahh Humbug!!!"
Better to play than not to play at all.
"...Play Ball!!!"

We collected Baseball cards with bubble gum, heroes of ours from days long gone, we even tried to play like them, repurposed their numbers
got our gear nice and clean the night before you couldn't sleep, when the dreams began.
The Seasons came and  
went, on days that never end, at parks that came to life, playing catch, doing drills on blades of fresh cut grass.

Excited anticipating, praying for time to go by, day dreaming in class, finally at last another game won a fleeting moment now in the past.
When the game is over~ Before you take off your cleats or put away your mit~
You bump fists with the other team in good Sportsmanship.

At the end of the day when you walk away and reminisce about the games you played, the faces of friends, diamonds and stars, the last player to leave looking back would see an empty field and parking lot, void of cars.

The last College practice of my Baseball endeavor.  The Coach called us in, the team sat on the grass where we gathered together.
What he said was so real we all fell ill, that day I'll always remember.

"We have no more games no Scout's were out calling your names, it's time to move out of the garage and get a job, help your Families who have throughout and for all these years supported your love for Baseball. Now it's time to start your life!!!"
Those words cut like a 1981 Chavez Curve Ball, "STRIKE!!!"

Dark shades covered eyes, couldn't hide the crumbling faces.
(I hate goodbye's)
 
A dark cloud emerged that obscured the bright day and changed the weather, when the speech  took a turn out came the Sun and singing Birds.
Like a new game directive  it changed my perspective.

The Coach said, "Look at it like this~ you must reconcile, how fortunate you were to have been able to experience from an early age and all the years until today, that you have played one of the greatest games this world has ever made".
(Coach Fred Glosser)

The smell of fresh cut grass takes me back~Nostalgia of the early morning fog that hovers just above the green green grass, white chalk and red clay.  
When the sun burned the mist and fog away, where the greatest games were ever played.

Randy Chavez