Again

Janelle McAfee

April Oliver

WLH period 2

25 April 2014

Again

She didn’t hear the cheers of fans. All she heard was his voice cutting through like glass: “Just do whatever it takes.”

His words caught her breath. Her body was stiff, completely disconnected from her mind. One more glare, another curt remark, and she was hit by a wave of emotion powerful enough to drown an island. With one last deep breath, she stepped into the batter’s box and brought her bat up to her shoulder.

The opposing pitcher fumbled with the yellow ball as the catcher gave her a sign. Three, two; the pitch was a curveball away from her. A moment later, “Strike one.” She stumbled out of the box. Looking over, she saw her coach giving signals: head, shoulder, arm, knee, head, nose, ear. It was as complicated as a middle school relationship, but she had understood.

From the dugout came the usual nonsensical jabber of her teammates pretending to focus on the game. All of them oblivious to her carrying the weight of the world in that moment. She looked towards her “friends,” rolled her eyes, and mustered just enough energy to step back into the box.

The umpire threw his fist into the air: “Strike two!” Her swing had not been close. Looking over to her coach once more, she felt like a fish with a tail caught under a rock as his stiff stature reminded her that he had no faith in her success. It was surprising to see her fall apart so quickly. She had done so well over the summer; her coaches had been shocked by her adept learning and overall instinct of the game. But, everything had changed. This coach played everyone but her, and told her what he called “things to improve on” about everything she did.

Her pulse had quickened again, overwhelming her body as well as her mind as she fought to control herself. Annoyed, the umpire waved her back into the box. “Step in, batter.”

Still, her body felt numb, frozen in place as she fixated her gaze onto the ball. It won’t take much, just put it in play... You’re fast enough to get on base... Oh God, please help me hit this ball. The pitch was right down the middle, but her mind was exhausted, and her bat didn’t budge. “Strike three, batter out,” the umpire called, before meandering over to his water bottle.

Looking down the third-base line, she allowed only the slightest flicker of disappointment to cross her face. She saw that her coach’s eyes were down. His feet, kicking the soft dirt under him. He trudged towards the dugout, ignoring her as he passed.

Everyone scrambled around, finding their gloves for the next inning, but not her. One look at the lineup sheet had confirmed what she feared to be true. Once more, spot number nine had another name, it would play another girl, someone found to be so much better than she.

In reality, she had barely made the roster. She had emailed the coach, talked to the assistant coaches, and attempted conversations with them all during tryouts. But, her determination had only gotten her onto the roster; it felt like nothing she could do would give her an opportunity to play.

After practice a couple weeks before, she had mustered the courage to talk to her coach. “I feel ready to play in games. I’ve been practicing extra, I had lessons all last week, and I fixed what you told me I was doing wrong...” His indifferent stature kept shutting her words down. “I can’t prove myself unless you give me a chance…” Her words drifted off as she realized that nothing she said would get through to him.

“If the opportunity arises, I will play you.” Disappointed, she slowly walked away. In reality, she hadn’t needed the blunt remarks about her incapabilities, not even comments about her lack of foundational abilities, no. Even growing up, she could read people’s intentions through their actions, and his had been clear from the start.

With no encouraging words from anyone around, the game went on. She paced the dugout for three innings, finding her own patience and confidence from the few people who she knew still believed in her. Looking out to the stands, she noticed that her mom had left to go sit in the car. It wasn’t easy for her, either.

Yearning for another chance to prove herself, but still staying realistic, she continued her now habitual actions to help her team: stealing signs and calling plays she was never a part of. Nothing she could do or say would be enough for him to notice anyway.

When she felt like she couldn’t take it any longer, she turned around, her worn face fell, and a few tears snuck through her tightly shut eyes. The girl’s hands were turning pale from being squeezed too hard and she was using every ounce of willpower she had left to not kick the bench and scream. Stiffly, she gathered herself to turn around again once more. Her heart was overwhelmed, beating fast and hard, and only strengthening in order to preserve the dignity she now clung to. Yet, through all of this, not one girl in that dugout turned around to talk to her. Nobody noticed her relentless struggles.

To her, it was another test of endurance. Heroes have gifts, unique strengths, and they give their everything to save the world from devastation. Girls are just people, and the only way they shine is if they learn to hide. Some would quit the game, find a new way to live, after falling once more. But the next day, at the next game, she came in just as she had before: hardworking, determined, and ready to just be her. It’s only a game, isn’t it?

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As paralleled by Solzhenitsyn in One Day in the Life of Ivan Denisovich, someone’s response to injustice may vary, and maintaining human dignity allows people to persevere and endure challenges. For the Estonians, they “were like blood brothers… They stuck together as though they couldn’t breathe without each other” (39). Their response to the terrible situations of camp was to rely on the few men that they still trusted. It helped them find positives in their awful circumstances, and gave them the energy to endure the downfalls. Shukhov’s responses to injustices showed his strong drive to be himself through everything around him. His small rations gave him an opportunity to secretly rebel against the leaders of the camp by hiding some for later. Talking about the free workers, Shukhov explains his compliance to the ways of the camp when he states that “That’s how it always was. One fellow looked on while the other worked” (80). While putting all of his efforts into building the third row of bricks, he shows his impressive drive to still do good work even though the situation is degrading. Shukhov finds his own motivations to persevere things throughout the book. When he explains why he doesn’t write letters home to his wife and family, he gives insight about how driven he is by the small hope that he will go back to his family and life outside of the prison camps. Also, the whole book is full of “He remembered how [this particular thing went wrong]” moments, which shows his persistence in the tough surroundings of camp (84). In my flash fiction moment, my main character endures destroying mental abuse from her coach as well as some from her team. She is forced into difficult situations, and is asked to excel through them. Even though she struck out, she proves that by hiding her emotions and re-entering the situation again, she is strong enough to overcome hardships.

Like my main character when she “[plays] her part” for her team’s benefit, Shukhov has mini victories he creates for himself in the camp in order to maintain his human dignity. A couple of times, Shukhov is granted an opportunity to be scrappy like Fetyukov and pick up a cigar or cigarette butt from the ground. Instead of becoming like an animal and falling apart inside the camp, he disciplines himself enough to not take the cigarette from the ground, not stare at Caesar as a way to get one, and to only gain them through earning them on his own. Also from Caesar, he feels completely fine taking Caesar's portion of their meal at camp after he’d stood in line for Caesar’s package. He feels that he is earning his food by being a helpful friend to Caesar and takes gratefully what is offered to him. It is yet another way he maintains his own self-worth by giving himself requirements as to how he gets things. He does the same thing at the work camps when he sweats from all of the work he is doing, showing his dedication to work hard nonstop, and his great pride in his handiwork, even though he is not paid or thanked for the quality and smarts he uses to get the job done. He even walks late back to the lines (with his work friend/partner) because he would rather be efficient with the materials he has to get the job done properly. Shukhov shows great dignity and self-worth by finding his own ways to prove himself worthy of still feeling human.

As Shukhov faced great pains and hardships to prove he can maintain his dignity, my character does as well. Even ignored, she continues to show herself as strong and capable for her team. When it is stated that she felt that “Nothing she could do or say would be enough for him to notice anyway,” it shows a greater test for her to battle through. It also proves that she was staying strong for herself, not her coach, and her only goal was to keep her own self-image from crumbling. It may not seem terribly heart-wrenching to strike out, or have people not believe in someone, but it degrades a heart, then a mind. Having to go to practice and play for people who don’t care to have the individual around each and every day can lead to someone feeling their own self doubts about whether he or she is worthy of being there. Even so, the greatest part of the struggle is the proof that it is possible to endure it, and grow through it. My character struggles to hold herself together, but in the end, she is able to not only maintain her self-worth through that challenging moment, but come back and prove herself (somewhat) victorious in the days to follow.