The Little League Coach

The calendar tells us that it's spring. But last Monday, the night before the season's first Little League practice, snow squalls filled the sky. Over the weekend the manager gathered us on a beautiful day for pizza and whiffle ball. Then our second practice got scrubbed for snow, a Nor'easter that eventually dumped half a … Continue reading The Little League Coach

Writing is physical

...and sometimes writing's purely physical, like when you're in the middle of editing copy in Word from a comfortable, seated position and you find yourself needing to hand-write a note, but that's got to be done in the specific place where you organize all the notes pertaining to the next draft you have planned, but you realize you've left … Continue reading Writing is physical

NINE Mothers, fathers, Diamond’s calling: Little League begins. Sons and daughters, Grab your bats. Days are growing long. Pitcher, catcher, Batter, Ump: Eyes quick on the ball. Windup, pitch, Swing and hit, Field and throw and tag. Line to Center. Ground to short. Hit and run and slide. Bases loaded, Batter up, Knock it past … Continue reading

The Sandlot

The first agent to show any interest in my writing offered to meet and discuss my manuscript after months of back and forth. During our conversation he shared an anecdote centered on the time his Little League team played at Shea Stadium. ‘How exciting!’ he and his teammates thought. ‘A Big League field in a Big … Continue reading The Sandlot

Post Season Baseball–Guts

To kick off Major League Baseball's season of glory: a short story about baseball featuring steroids, breast milk, and courage. From Guts, first published by Atticus Review September 2012. That sweet curving thumb of mine put a wild spin on every ball I threw. Curveballs, sliders, pitches that dropped four inches just before the plate. Northern … Continue reading Post Season Baseball–Guts

GUTS

George craves the syringe with an addict’s distress. I have one thumb on the plunger. I put the other in his mouth. The plastic syringe tip curves along my crooked thumb between George’s lips. I press the plunger carefully and let the milk flow.The ruddy face of Senator Teflon–that’s my name for him–fills the television. He … Continue reading GUTS