Raking Lines

“Brink! Hey run out to the shed and grab the bucket of BP balls.” Of course.. Pick on the freshman to do jobs no one else wants to do.

I set down my glove by the old Nike bag I had taken out of Mitch’s closet. As I jogged over to the fence and out the gate, I noticed the wind picking up. It was a cloudy day and the wind gave the air a chilly side note.

Wind. Gotta love that Cedar City weather.

The familiar click-clack of my metal cleats on the pavement of the parking lot took over my thoughts as I trotted out to the worn grey shed behind the fence near home plate. As I swung the door open, I heard the same sound the large door always made; a grinding followed by some squeaky joints that sounded like WD-40 might be a few years overdue. The rotting wood on the door grabbed my attention, making me wonder how no one had gotten a splinter from the dead wood that was all too prevalent in the rickety building.

As I grabbed the black bucket with a crack on one side, I noticed how cluttered the shed was.

I wish someone would clean this place up. Just finding anything could take half of a practice if you didn’t know where to look.

I got the bucket and headed back towards the field. My fingers started to feel the strain from holding on to the short sides of the bucket, seeing as the handle had long since broken off. I jogged back through the gate and out to the pitcher’s mound where Coach was talking to a few of the guys.

“Brink! What took you so long? I was starting to think you might have gotten lost in there.” Coach said.

“Sorry about that, I had a hard time finding the bucket under all that junk.” And I’m surprised nothing fell off the shelf and killed me!

We went through that practice like any other day. It was a gloomy day with the wind and clouds, and between different drills, I found myself shedding my jacket, then putting it back on a few minutes later. The air couldn’t quite find a temperature, and neither could my body.

Practice ended and we began cleaning up the field. Tomorrow was game day, so we had to prepare the field as such. Coach sent Lex and Kameron off to grab the gator and drag the infield. I wish I got to drag the infield, driving that stupid tractor would be way better than folding up mats and raking the base lines.

I was about halfway down the third baseline, and as I looked back to admire my work, my nose caught the smell of the small tractor’s exhaust as it circled the infield, smoothing any bumps and leveling any holes. I glanced up at Lex in the driver’s seat and Kameron sitting in the back. Talking, laughing, having a better time than they ought to be while everyone else was stuck doing monotonous tasks around the field. I bet those two haven’t ever picked up a rake. How could they possibly lower themselves to such a boring job?

“CV on three!! One! Two! Three! CV!!” We gave a yell and everyone headed back to the dugout to clean up their things and head home.

“5 o’clock? Dude I can’t handle these three hour practices!” Lex complained.

Imagine if you’d actually done anything today!  I was still a little bitter about the bucket thing, but not because I minded grabbing the bucket. I felt like I always got the worst jobs. Grab the bucket! Rake the lines! Pick up the balls! It was all work and no play. I thought baseball was supposed to be a game!

I tossed my bag in the back of my truck, got in the driver’s seat and put the cool metal key in the ignition. I turned the key and listened to the big truck turn over twice before catching the ignition and roaring to life. When I got home, Mom was leaning over a cutting board getting dinner ready. The crunching sound under the knife in her hand tipped me off.

“What are you making with celery?” I asked.

“Vegetable soup. How was practice?”

“Long.” I complained, “I do every boring job known to man! The older kids get to hit ground balls while I go out to the shed. They get to drive the gator and drag the field and I’m stuck raking. I hate it! I feel like I’m not accomplishing anything!”

Mitch had walked into the kitchen while I was going through my rant. He laughed.

“You’re a freshman. You’re supposed to get the worst jobs. It comes with the title!”

“Yeah but I start! And the other freshman don’t always have to do boring stuff like me!” I complained.

“Maybe you’re right.” He added, “or maybe they do all the same boring jobs, and you’re too busy feeling sorry for yourself to realize you’re not all that picked on.”

Of course he knows everything. He’s the big brother, he’s got all the experience. He’s just like the seniors who have all of the easy jobs! He doesn’t get it.

It was an odd day. Warm and relatively calm wind. Am I still in Cedar? Coach was a little slow getting out to the field today. The three freshman and a few sophomores sat outside the dugout talking about our day. Lex came out of the dugout and looked at us.

“Why are you guys just standing there? There are buckets in the shed, we need the screens set up for BP, and no one has set out the ground ball mats.” He looked around at our group. “Why are you still looking at me? GO!”

He walked away to his bat bag and started getting his gear out.

“Man, it’s like he thinks he actually does anything around here.” Ty complained, “I do everything around here!”

He thinks he does everything? If only he knew.

Then a thought struck me- Wait, he thinks he has every bad job? I thought I always got the bad ones!

Throughout practice the rest of that day, I watched Ty and the other freshmen whenever a small job needed to be done. Much to my surprise, everyone acted like it was a serious chore to have to do such miniscule tasks. I watched my friends rake the lines after practice without any enthusiasm, and when they finished one threw the rake and the other pushed it to the ground as if to say they were far too good to be doing something like raking a base line. I thought to myself, Wow, I never realised how much the other guys have to do the jobs I hate. . . Some of them do even more than I do!

The next day at practice, I had a different mindset when I stepped on the green, sunny field. I was the first one to the old shed to grab the bucket of baseballs, and I decided I could give the guys a break just once and rake both baselines instead of just one.

As I walked out to my truck at the end of that practice, I thought to myself, I guess I really don’t mind raking lines.