In Which I, Age 10, Simulate an All-Star Game with Baseball Cards on the Floor of My Bedroom

In Which I, Age 10, Simulate an All-Star Game with Baseball Cards on the Floor of My Bedroom

By Matthew J. Andrews

The National League is up. Lenny Dykstra and Craig Biggio are on base, and at the plate, Tony Gwynn is being stared down by Roger Clemens. It’s a long at-bat with lots of foul balls, but Tony Gwynn eventually strikes out. He kicks dirt as he shuffles back to the dugout. Barry Bonds is up next. I want him to strike out so badly because he snubbed me when I asked for his autograph after batting practice one windy day in San Francisco, but even on my floor Roger Clemens isn’t pitching to him, his ego swollen all the way down to his biceps, so it’s a slow walk to first on four wide pitches. The booing is a low rumble across the carpet. Matt Williams steps up, and because his picture is tacked onto my wall and he happily signed my baseball when I asked him, he is definitely going to hit a grand slam. But before Roger Clemens fires off the first heater, I stop and survey this arena of two-dimensional avatars, so much larger than life, slugging it out just for me. I methodically pick them up, slide them into their plastic sleeves, and put them back on the shelf. I had always wondered where Shoeless Joe went when he walked into the cornfield. I’m starting to see he never went anywhere.  

Matthew J. Andrews is a private investigator and writer. He is the author of the chapbook I Close My Eyes and I Almost Remember, and his work has appeared in Rust + Moth, Pithead Chapel, and EcoTheo Review, among others. He can be contacted at matthewjandrews.com.

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