One Last Game
by Aaron Thorne ’20
Thursday, March 12th, just simply felt weird.
Thursday, March 12th, just simply felt weird.
We had classes, like usual. Mr. Northcut taught a lesson about protecting the environment, like usual. I ate lunch with my friends, like usual. Mrs. Schwartz told us about our assignment for tomorrow, like usual.
But then she added something that caught me off-guard.
“That is, if we have class tomorrow.”
I knew that the coronavirus was a recent topic of discussion, as cases had been trickling into Texas, but the only concerning stories I heard were all the way from China or Washington state. It all just seemed so far away.
I just wanted to go to school, play my baseball game, and finish the week before spring break. Like usual.
As I walked out of my eighth period math class, Joe stopped me at the door.
“Hit a home run today” he said with a grin.
They were simple words of encouragement, something that anyone could say. But something about the way Joe said it, as if today would be my last game, felt disturbingly inspiring.
When I went outside into the parking lot to get ready for my baseball game that afternoon. Coach Hunter approached me.
“What position do you want to play today?”
Usually, I just played where coach felt I would help the team best that day. But clearly, as I stood face-to-face with coach under a dismal gray sky, today was different. It was almost like he was saying goodbye to me, like he wanted me to have one last wish while a member of the baseball team.
A few minutes later, I received a call from Mason, the other senior on the baseball team. He sounded worried, frantic, upset.
“This might be our last baseball game ever.”
I couldn’t help but let out a little chuckle. “Yeah, I guess it’s possible, but I’m sure we’ll have more games this season,” I said. He was just dramatizing the situation, right?
As underclassmen began piling in the dugout before the game, they all kept coming up to me and asking me if I was ready to take the field one last time.
I wasn’t convinced. I thought that everyone must be overreacting. It’s mid-March! We have only played seven baseball games! I was sure that everything would settle down soon enough, and after Spring Break, we would have plenty of opportunity to finish our season.
I took the field, just like the rest of my teammates, just like any other game.
And I struck out in my first two at-bats.
I was frustrated, to say the least, but in baseball, the most important thing to do when in a slump is to move on. I worked on my swing while I was on deck and developed a good approach to come to bat once again in the fifth inning.
That’s when news broke. School had been called off not only for Friday but also for the next week after Spring Break. I thought that was crazy; we’re already getting canceled two weeks in advance.
I looked around, and everything seemed so much quieter. I saw Mason look around the field to soak in the feeling of being in the dugout. I saw my parents in the stands, grasping the memory of watching my games. I saw my coaches, straight-faced but sentimental.
And then I saw Joe. I remembered what he said to me.
“Hit a home run today,” as if it would be my last chance to hit one at Arthur P. Ruff Field.
I stepped up to the plate and looked into the pitcher’s eyes.
What if this was my last game in this uniform?
I decided that if this was my last time playing a game on this field, I was going to go out with a –
Bang!
…
I am sorry to say I did not hit a home run that game. I ended up hitting two ground rule doubles in my third and fourth at-bats. They weren’t dingers, but I felt good about it.
After that game was over, I lingered in the dugout. I couldn’t physically bring myself to leave. I had so many memories on that field, both good and bad, but all of them contributed to my experience at 10600 Preston Rd. And my experience at 10600 Preston Rd, have made me me. So, maybe it’s cliché, but St. Mark’s baseball is a part of me, and it always will be.
After I finally took one last look around the field and started heading to the parking lot, I was stopped by a kind voice.
“You almost hit two of them.”
Joe, maybe my biggest baseball fan after my parents, was getting ready to leave.
“I told you to hit a home run today, but you nearly got two!” he said.
The only place I’ve really known for the past eight years, other than my house, is 10600 Preston Rd. I don’t know if there is any community in the world that is as supportive as the community here, but I know that it’s very rare to say that my math teacher has seen basically every one of my baseball games for the last four years and been one of my biggest fans along the way.
…
I’m really fortunate to not be done with baseball, as I signed recently to continue my baseball career at Carleton College.
What might have been my last game in a St. Mark’s uniform taught me a very important lesson, one that I will not only take with me to college next fall, but one that I will treasure in every aspect of life for as long as it lasts.
Play every game as though it’s your last.
Because you never know when it actually will be over.
St. Mark’s School of Texas
10600 Preston Road
Dallas, Texas 75230
214-346-8000
Dallas, Texas 75230
214-346-8000
About Us
St. Mark’s School of Texas is a private, nonsectarian college-preparatory boys’ day school for students in grades 1 through 12, located in Dallas, Texas. St. Mark’s aims to prepare young men to assume leadership and responsibility in a competitive and changing world.
St. Mark’s does not discriminate in the administration of its admission and education policies on the basis of race, color, religion, sexual orientation, or national or ethnic origin.
St. Mark’s does not discriminate in the administration of its admission and education policies on the basis of race, color, religion, sexual orientation, or national or ethnic origin.
