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Episode 11
Corey was a two-bit accountant who spent 60 hours a week chained to his desk doing endless book entries for his employer, an industrial equipment manufacturer.
Baseball was Corey’s escape valve, his retreat from reality. Nothing brought Corey more freedom and fulfillment, away from his tedious, dead-end career, than being at the ballpark. Hearing the crack of the bat or seeing a cleanly executed double play never failed to send Corey into a dreamlike state.
A true fan, Corey felt he had an intimate connection with the Hammerheads, the local minor league baseball team, and the core group of season ticket holders that regularly sat with Corey in the right field corner seats, fittingly referred to by all as Corey’s Corner.
Corey never failed to bring his glove, alert to the basic fandom safety rule of knowing where the ball is at all times. And most importantly, Corey wanted to be equipped to nab a rare souvenir foul ball, should one ever come his way.
A mediocre hitter at best in high school, Corey excelled as a smooth fielding shortstop. His defense kept him in the lineup.
High School graduation put an end
to Corey’s baseball aspirations.
Corey filled the void by playing softball and by becoming the unofficial number one fan of the Clearwater Hammerheads.
Corey never missed a home game.
After a long week of crunching numbers, Corey settled in his regular corner seat to watch his Hammers open a weekend series against division rivals, Asteroids.
As the opening pitch popped the catcher’s mitt for a strike, Corey had a premonition, “I am going to snag a foul ball, tonight…”
Bennie Armstrong, known for his ability to hit for average and power, led off the bottom of the first inning for the Hammerheads.
He confidently strode to the batter’s box with his favorite stick in hand, a 32 ounce piece of birch. Bennie had dubbed his bat “Blue Lightning” because it emanated a loud pop when he connected and put pitchers in a blue state of mind.
Bennie’s eyes lit up as a fastball came inside, right in his sweet spot. Overzealous, he impatiently lunged at the pitch.
Remarkably, Bennie, true to Corey’s premonition, yanked a missile in his direction. Corey nonchalantly gloved the errant projectile while taking a gulp of a 32 ounce Coke with his other hand.
The fans erupted and beckoned Corey to take a bow. His cohorts in Corey’s Corner chanted his name at the top of their lungs, drawing out the last syllable for emphasis.
Mesmerized by the cheers of the crowd, Corey uncharacteristically turned his back to the field to bask in his minute of glory.
Corey, the rote, undervalued, two-bit accountant, thought, “I’ve never felt more alive in my life!”
The Hammerhead pitcher, deciding to quick pitch Bennie, busted a 95 mile fastball inside, tight.
Bennie, swung Blue Lightning at the last millisecond, rocketing, again, another projectile in the direction of Corey’s Corner.
Miraculously, the sphere found Corey a second time, hammering him in the base of his neck, instantly separating his brain stem from his spinal cord.
Corey, with a smile on his face and coveted souvenir ball intact in his glove, was dead before he fell into the arms of his cheering friends.
He was buried with his glove and the ball hit by Blue Lightning. The preacher spoke of Corey’s love for the game of baseball and eternity.
Bennie Armstrong sat on a back row
pew, holding back tears, as he pondered his baseball future.
The next week the Hammerheads mounted a plaque above the right field corner section, officially naming it - Corey’s Corner.
The management also placed signs throughout the ballpark, warning -
KEEP YOUR EYE ON THE BALL!
