The right fielder just happens to be the newest boy in the neighborhood. His family makes their new home down on Lexington Drive, not far from a park with a baseball diamond.
A group of boys organize pick-up baseball games every morning during the summer at the park’s diamond. The right fielder shows up, eager to play, but he is the final player picked for one of the teams.
Few of the other boys put much faith in the smallish right fielder’s short stature. His glove is well-worn as the seasoned leather molds around his small hand, and his tattered jeans feature a gash at the knee which provides for some extra ventilation. He wears a faded cap with the Brooklyn Dodgers “B” logo still showing.
On most pick-up baseball teams, whoever plays right field is usually one of its weaker players with not much of a glove, little speed, and a dreadfully weak throwing arm. Willing to play right field serves as a consolation prize for being picked last.
The right fielder humbly accepts his position. He is hungry to play ball, and he just wants to fit in with the other boys.
He enjoys a decent game at the plate with a couple of solid hits. His teammates begin to take notice of his skills. The right fielder has yet to see a ball hit his way.
The score remains tied with two outs now in the bottom of the final inning. A runner stands in position to score from second base as he waits for a much needed hit to bring home the winning run.
With the crack of the bat, the runner is on a dead sprint to third base on his way to home plate. The ball has been hit like a shot into right field. The right fielder makes a quick jump on the sharp hit, fields the ball cleanly, and sets up his feet for a throw to the catcher.
The runner is rounding third base, and the field is buzzing with excitement. The catcher positions himself just in front of home plate as he prepares to receive the right fielder’s throw.
With a hop and a step, the right fielder uncorks a frozen rope of a throw. It carries low toward the waiting catcher. The runner looks to be a dead duck. The throw arrives at home plate well ahead of the runner.
The catcher flinches as the ball skips off of the turf in front of the plate. With a perfect bounce up, the ball arrives well ahead of the runner. Sadly, the catcher misjudges the throw, and it bounds over his glove into his body.
Runner safe! Game over!
With the game over, the rest of the boys discover they have a pretty darn good right fielder. They’ve never seen a throw quite like his.