The "Sweet Spot"

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The "Sweet Spot"

By Indelibleink

Concentrate, Edwin! See the Ball. Swing through the ball. Find the Goddamn sweet spot. Dammit, Edwin! My six-year old swings the bat better than you...

The words of Coach Collins resonated in Edwin's brain as he took more practice swings. Edwin had been working on his swing for weeks, hoping that would allow him back on the junior varsity baseball team.

Edwin waited patiently outside Coach's office. Sporting a towel wrapped around his midsection after showering, Coach Collins appeared. Edwin eagerly assumed his batting stance.

Coach Collins tried to stifle his laughter.

"Edwin... Son, listen to me: You are no baseball player. You just don't swing the bat well enough."

One more swing. Then he'll see!

"Coach Collins!"

Edwin closed his eyes and saw the imaginary pitch coming.

Perfection!

For the first time, Edwin had made full contact. The "sweet spot!" God, it felt good. Edwin swung repeatedly.

"What do you think now, Coach?"

The lifeless stare of Coach Collins told Edwin that, yes, Edwin surely did belong on the team. Edwin removed the towel from Coach's waist, so he could wipe off the blood-spattered bits of skull and brain that sullied Edwin's bat - that had sullied the "sweet spot."

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Words: 200