Part of the Team

Josh slung the equipment bag over his shoulder. It had been a long day sitting on the bus and watching corn fields pass by. The flat tire a few hundred miles back had been both a blessing and a curse. Sure, it had broken up the long drive giving the team a chance to get off that damn bus and stretch their legs. On the other hand, it had caused them to pull into Savannah about four hours late. There was no time for a quick stop at the hotel. They had driven straight to the minor league stadium where they were scheduled to play the Sand Gnats, a local triple-A team in the Atlanta Braves farm system.

In the locker room, Josh dropped the heavy bag off of his shoulder a little too carelessly causing a couple of bats to fall out and roll across the dirty floor.

“Hey Feathers, be careful. I can’t hit the long ball if my bat is cracked.”

Chicks dig the long ball.

“Rocko, you couldn’t hit the long ball if my sister was pitching,” Josh fired back. He loved everything about this game. You had to if you were going to put up with the travel, low pay and almost complete obscurity. Only those that made it to the ‘show’ got the fame and fortune.

The game was going to start soon so he scrambled quickly into his uniform. It was getting to be a tight fit. He would have to keep an eye on that. He knew the unwritten rule: “No fat guys on the bus.”

He stood in front of the mirror making sure he looked good. A six foot tall chicken stared back at him.

‘God I love this game,’ thought the Mud Hens’ team mascot heading for the door.

Word count 300