The Magic Paintbrush and Other Enchanted Tales by Henry Lien

Author:Henry Lien
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Sourcebooks
Published: 2020-10-19T21:55:11+00:00

The Homerun Elephant

by Varsha Bajaj

I dragged the pumpkin seed shell through the dusty ground with my foot as I watched my best friend, Raul, grab the foul ball, then rocket it to Connor at first base. The team cheered from the field. I cheered from the bench. This is where you can find me, Sid Patel. I warm the bench.

I don’t blame Coach. I’m a pitcher, but I’m not very good. Every time he puts me in, I walk all the batters.

Our school has a policy that everyone who wants to play a sport gets on a team. Yay!

But that doesn’t mean we get to be on the field. Boo!

So I sit here, game after game, dragging pumpkin seeds and dreaming of glory.

I love baseball, especially that moment when the ball leaves a pitcher’s hand and lands with a thunk in the catcher’s open mitt. A perfect strike. That sweet, beautiful thunk is better than any song. I’ve only heard it a few times when I pitch. There’s also that wonderful crack when your bat connects with the ball and sends it flying into the outfield. I hardly ever hear that. Did I mention that I stink at batting too? Most times I swing mightily, and the ball whizzes past me. Thunk! The other team’s catcher collects the ball. And I strike out.

I glanced over at the bleachers, and my dad waved. One of my parents always comes to my games. Growing up in India, Mom and Dad had both been star cricket players. Mom had even been the captain of the women’s cricket team in her college. Dad keeps a picture of his team in their uniform whites on his bedside table. They insist that playing sports made them successful in school and at work.

Baseball is the closest thing America has to cricket, so that’s why I chose it. I’d like to believe that if my school had cricket, my cricket skills would be way superior to my baseball skills. I mean, how could they not be with two superstar cricket parents?

After today’s game, Dad had a serious talk with me on the drive home. “Success is a matter of focus and practice, Sid.” Then he told me about a guy who figured out you had to practice something for ten thousand hours to get good. He said I didn’t practice enough.

* * *

That night, lying in bed, I kept seeing my dad’s disappointed face. My dad worked hard at everything he did. I wanted him to be proud of me. Light from the full moon shone through my window and onto the painting over my desk. Mom made it for me back in third grade. She’d painted SID vertically. Next to each letter, she’d painted a word. Strong, Intelligent, Determined.

It felt like a pep talk now. I needed to be more determined. I needed to put in those ten thousand hours Dad had talked about. Why not start now?

I snuck out of bed, grabbed my baseball, crept through the dark house, and slipped into the backyard.

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.