... getting back to business ...
May 31, 1999
4:35 p.m.
There is something theraputic about putting submission packages together. It's the ritual, I think, the pacing, the feel of paper rolling out of the printer with methodical cadence, clean and shiny new like spring leaves. The story pile becomes a pillar of strength, an immediate reminder of what I've accomplished in the past. Writing addresses on envelopes bring back days when I was a kid, playing baseball board games with my brother, Jeff.  We would each write in our strating line-ups on a blank scoresheet. I remember putting Orlando Cepeda in left, Tito Fuentes at second, an aging Willie McCovey at first base (maybe the Big Smooth was in the outfield and Cepeda was at first). Of course, Willie Mays in center. The scoresheet would lay on the table, full of potential. There would be strikeouts. There would be double plays. Yes, there would. Fuentes would probably be thrown out stealing once or twice. The one surety was that the losing team would get at least 27 outs before the game was over. But the beginning of the game felt powerful and pure. In some ways, I could even smell the infield grass and the heat of the outfield. Maybe there would be a home run. Maybe even a grand slam. Maybe one of my guys would steal home, a success that would leave the other guys gasping and figuring we had swiped one that didn't belong to us. A look would cross Jeff's face as we would get ready to play, the grin of a challenge. I'll throw this one by you, it said. Nah, mine would reply. This one's outta the park. Then one of us would pick up the dice and roll the pitch, the other would roll the swing. So today I go about the ritual. Stamps on the envelopes, return addresses affixed. Letters stuffed. SASEs included. Cover letters included. May wasn't great. But as I remember, it's the teams that stick it out though June and July that give themselves a chance to make a pennant run in the fall. And the stack of maize envelopes sit beside my desk with a quiet look of challenge. I hear it whisper to me. I'll throw this one by you. Nah, I reply. This one's outta the park.   Congratulations to Tippi for nabbing the Speculations short story contest!  Daily Persistence is © Ron Collins |
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"...baseball, like life, throbs with hope, or it wouldn't exist." Anne Lamott |
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