Sitting in the dugout, seven-year old Dave has witnessed baseball’s endless rhythm.  While he will have to wait a few more years to play on the diamond in front of him, he looks forward to every single inning.

The team’s coach has designated Dave as the batboy as well as part-time groundskeeper.  The team has been floundering, and Dave has heard and seen it all.  Baseball has become more about a summer surrounded with excuses from the older boys.

–The umpire’s strike zone is either too tight or too wide.

–With every fly ball, the sun’s always in someone’s eyes.

–A pitcher’s sore arm is due to sleeping on his tender shoulder.

–After being tagged out at home plate, one player tells the coach, “Sorry coach, I forgot to slide.”

As Dave harvests a few more splinters from sitting on the dugout’s well-worn bench, he feels bigger moments coming.  He just needs to wait until he is a few years older.

Life’s experiences have taught young Dave from a never-ending river of lessons.  Most all of all, he tries to remember his father.  The missing images remind him that his father left much too early.  As an American naval officer, his life was cut short in the Pacific theater during the final months of World War II. 

Dave’s life fast-forwards about twenty years . . . to a big league ballpark in Baltimore, Maryland.  The annual fall classic fills the afternoon air with thrills of another World Series.

Pitching for the Baltimore Orioles, Dave McNally makes history with both his arm and bat.  During the third game of the series with the Cincinnati Reds, Dave becomes the first pitcher to hit a grand slam home run in World Series history.  He finishes off the Reds’ batters with another pitching gem.  He scatters nine hits and pitches a complete game.  The Birds win 9-3.

Writer’s note:  The first part of the story is purely fictional, but the narrative embraces Dave’s actual life in the final three paragraphs.