The maintenance man stood on the field and stared into the outfield as the fog of the cool night air hovered above the ground. The blinding lights from the headlights on the baseball field made the outside world look dark. The old man just stood there hunched near the pitchers mound staring into the never ending night. Everyday i pass him on my way home from work, he is always out late on this field either working on it or just staring into the outfield. He never talks but always waves and smiles behind his white beard as he works on the already perfect field. He was never found during the day but always at night, in fact it scared many of the residence that lived near the public ball park and they often filed complaints but technically he was just doing his job so they couldn't do anything.
Late one night on a cold evening i happened to walk by and he was sitting in the stands looking down at his feet. It was absolutely freezing and he just sat there with his normal blue overalls and brown cap as he just stared. I felt obligated to at least see if he was ok. "Hello, you ok big guy?" The man didnt move, he just sat hunched and depressed. I sat next to him and he reached in his back side of his pants and pulled out an old worn glove and held it tightly. The old man then tried to find his words as he held back his tears. "He was a great pitcher.... he would throw smoke, no one could hit that." he said in a dull tone. "Every saturday id take him early to the fields and we'd throw til the sun rose. We'd talk and laugh as we played catch before i had to work for the day, id wake him early but he didnt mind spending time with me." I patted him on the back and asked to hear more. "He was so good, not just at baseball but as a person. We grew older and apart as my wife got sick and i got angry. When he turned 16 he woke me up to play catch and i got angry at him" the man began to softly sob. "I told him life wasnt a game and he needed to grow up, his mother, my wife died the night before and i drank to hold back the pain. My anger came out on him even though he was just as sad but knew i needed something simply as a game of catch."
I began to cry as he told his story of his son and how he later joined the army and the last words he said to him were he loved the old man but he couldnt say them back because he was hungover on the morning he was deployed. "He left me his most important thing he had ever owned and placed it in my hands as he left, his glove." the man sobbed hard. The glove had his name on it, Jeremy, it said in a red marker. The story reminded me of my son and also of me and my dad. I never considered a game of catch to be a big deal but to the old man it was everything he had left to live for. "If only i could have one last game of catch" he mound.
I didn't realize then but his son died in the war 3 weeks before he was going to be sent home. The son wrote letters to the old man saying he couldn't wait to come home and see him. The old man didn't have time to respond to any of his letters until he received one that changed everything. Then he quit his job and moved to town to town until he came to work here at the ball park. The old man lived at the hospital and was treated for brain cancer but snuck out at night to be at the ball park, even if it was to clean it. I offered the old man if i could give him some money or a jacket but he declined. I left and thought about what i just learned about the old man and walked the whole way home silently just thinking about the poor old man.
A few weeks went by and each night id walk by he would wave and give a slight smile, we wouldn't talk but we both were happy to see each other. One day i was reading the paper before i went to work and to my surprise i saw the old man had finally died from brain cancer at the age of 72. I was sad but i was happy to have at least spoken with him before he had passed. I felt it would have been a shame had on one had ever talked with him in his last days.
His funeral had about a dozen people, none of which were family. I sat in the back as the service ended and i took a long walk think about the old man. On my way home i walked by the baseball field to remember the conversation that once took place. I sat in the stands and looked at my shoes as the sun began to set. The field was dirty but somewhat peaceful it felt, as if things were ok in the world. The lights had a timer that shut off at ten and i figured id just sit until then in respect of this old man as he did every night. As i thought about my son i felt my love for him grow more and more, i couldnt imagine not seeing him again. Tears filled my eyes as i looked at my watch and saw it was 9:56. I got up to leave and a man in uniform approached me. "Excuse me" he said politely, "I am suppose to be meeting a friend here, this is the ball field ?" I nodded. The man then walked out to the field and i made my way home. I looked back and saw in the mist of the cool night the old man in overalls. He hugged the man in uniform and sobbed as did the other man. He then handed him the glove in his back pocket. Right before the lights turned off the two walked into the fog and i could have sworn, before the old man disappeared he turned to me, smiled and waved.
I began to cry as he told his story of his son and how he later joined the army and the last words he said to him were he loved the old man but he couldnt say them back because he was hungover on the morning he was deployed. "He left me his most important thing he had ever owned and placed it in my hands as he left, his glove." the man sobbed hard. The glove had his name on it, Jeremy, it said in a red marker. The story reminded me of my son and also of me and my dad. I never considered a game of catch to be a big deal but to the old man it was everything he had left to live for. "If only i could have one last game of catch" he mound.
I didn't realize then but his son died in the war 3 weeks before he was going to be sent home. The son wrote letters to the old man saying he couldn't wait to come home and see him. The old man didn't have time to respond to any of his letters until he received one that changed everything. Then he quit his job and moved to town to town until he came to work here at the ball park. The old man lived at the hospital and was treated for brain cancer but snuck out at night to be at the ball park, even if it was to clean it. I offered the old man if i could give him some money or a jacket but he declined. I left and thought about what i just learned about the old man and walked the whole way home silently just thinking about the poor old man.
A few weeks went by and each night id walk by he would wave and give a slight smile, we wouldn't talk but we both were happy to see each other. One day i was reading the paper before i went to work and to my surprise i saw the old man had finally died from brain cancer at the age of 72. I was sad but i was happy to have at least spoken with him before he had passed. I felt it would have been a shame had on one had ever talked with him in his last days.
His funeral had about a dozen people, none of which were family. I sat in the back as the service ended and i took a long walk think about the old man. On my way home i walked by the baseball field to remember the conversation that once took place. I sat in the stands and looked at my shoes as the sun began to set. The field was dirty but somewhat peaceful it felt, as if things were ok in the world. The lights had a timer that shut off at ten and i figured id just sit until then in respect of this old man as he did every night. As i thought about my son i felt my love for him grow more and more, i couldnt imagine not seeing him again. Tears filled my eyes as i looked at my watch and saw it was 9:56. I got up to leave and a man in uniform approached me. "Excuse me" he said politely, "I am suppose to be meeting a friend here, this is the ball field ?" I nodded. The man then walked out to the field and i made my way home. I looked back and saw in the mist of the cool night the old man in overalls. He hugged the man in uniform and sobbed as did the other man. He then handed him the glove in his back pocket. Right before the lights turned off the two walked into the fog and i could have sworn, before the old man disappeared he turned to me, smiled and waved.
