I watch the pitcher closely, the brim of my hat shielding the rays as he lines up for his shot. The entire stadium is silent, like vultures circling prey. If someone sneezed now it would be heard on Mars.
I let out a breath, eyes on the ball as I hit my bat on the plate. The dust flies as I place it behind my head, taking a warm up swing. I nod to the pitcher, a small smile on my face.
He gets ready for the throw. He winds up the shot. And woosh! The ball sails through the air, my bat pinging as I make contact. I watch with wide eyes, feet stuttering on the plate as before I break into a run. I fly just as fast as the ball, telegraphic letters reading HOME RUN in my peripheral. The crowd goes wild!