And though my life might’ve been focused on avoiding the curse, I was still the same girl who grew up with cliché love stories. So, you couldn’t be too surprised to learn that I harboured a crush on Colton, especially with the fond memories I have attached to baseball.
When my family was still in our bubble of being picture-perfect, my Saturday afternoons were spent playing catch in our backyard with my dad. Considering my parents never had a son, my dad rarely shared his love for baseball. That was until I found a baseball glove lying in the garage one day and asked him about it.
‘What’s this?’ questioned my six-year-old self, my hand holding it as I inspected the hand-shaped leather.
‘Ah, that’s a baseball glove. You wear it so it’ll protect your hand when you’re catching a ball,’ my dad explained to me, his eyes looking at the glove fondly with a tender look on his face.
‘Can we play?’ I asked my dad, interrupting him from his reminiscing.
My dad’s head jolted back a bit at my unexpected request. ‘You want to play catch?’
‘Yeah!’ I had exclaimed. ‘It sounds like fun.’
He laughed at my excitement, ruffling my hair. ‘Sure. Go wait out back, I’ll try to find us a baseball.’
That one random afternoon snowballed into a love for the sport and the creation of a special bond between my dad and me: from playing catch in the backyard to attending little league baseball games held around town, and spending time together watching the Major League Baseball, or MLB, games on TV.
Even after my parents got divorced, I always went over to my dad’s place every Sunday and we would watch a live game together with a box of pizza sitting between us. It didn’t matter what team was playing, it had just become our tradition.
Even though I never religiously followed the sport, baseball held and still holds a special place in my heart.
When it had come to choosing where I would be spending the next four years of my life, a college that has one of the best collegiate baseball teams in the nation wasn’t one of my requirements, but a very welcome bonus nonetheless.
I still remember the day I saw the college team play for the first time in our own baseball stadium. It was my freshman year of college, and I was so excited to see a live baseball match, even if it was just one of those exhibition games they did during the off-season. It also happened to be the day the college was introduced to the star-athlete-to-be.
The game held my attention fairly well, but when it was Colton’s turn to bat, he became my sole focus. He had a certain aura to him as he walked up to home plate. It wasn’t necessarily arrogant, but more of a confident one, as if he knew just how good he was and he was ready to prove it.
When Colton took his place and prepared his stance to swing the bat, I felt time stand still. My mind was alerted with the knowledge that I was going to witness something remarkable that would forever be marked in my memory.
Once the players were ready, the pitcher threw the ball.
Colton missed.
Strike one.
The ball went back to the pitcher’s glove and Colton readjusted his grip on the bat.
Colton got into his batting stance again and the ball was tossed the second time.
He missed again.
Strike two.
While the ball was tossed back to the pitcher, Colton set down the barrel end of the bat as he took a deep breath, his back rising and falling along with the number ‘23’ on his back.
When he was ready, Colton picked up the bat once again, all eyes of the crowd on him.
The pitcher threw the ball the third time and Colton swung.
The sound of the ball hitting the bat echoed throughout the stadium as the ball flew across the field and continued to fly past the fence.
Just like that, the silence from the crowd was replaced by a thunderous roar of cheers for Colton as he started to run the length of the infield.
First base.
Second base.
Third base.
