New Kids on the Block

ONCE upon a short while ago, there was a little boy lost who knew a girl formerly known as meek who was now free to decide. Murphy meet Max. Max meet Murphy.

The awesome swinging bunt.

Every morning the little boy lost would walk a great distance to spend his day amongst chaos and confusion. He never quite figured out how he ever got from there to here, but he wasn't going to question it any more. He wasn't sure of his purpose but over time he realized most of the people around him were not sure of theirs either. He remained relatively calm throughout, but he was certainly glad every time he saw the girl formerly known as meek who was now free to decide. Meanwhile the little girl who had one leg that was longer than the other, had a short term vision impairment that no pair of glasses could ever repair. She just needed a little direction.

Chasing down the fly ball swirling in the wind.

One day Max showed Murphy his house. She was properly impressed. Together they went out for a burger and a malt. The conversation was short and sweet, the names changed but the faces remained the same. Murphy ate not one but two burgers. Who knew what she was capable of? She knew that there was no such thing as destiny. Max now understood the complexity of the importance of having a little dignity. He spilt his milkshake. "That's too bad," he said. No use crying over a spilt milkshake.

Filing the proper documents in properly tabbed folders.

Murphy wanted to see Max play. She didn't like him just sitting and watching instead of participating. She knew he could turn on an inside pitch and drive it further than his size would indicate. Upon his arrival in his first game he had four hits and never looked back. Max appreciated her sweetness. She inspired him. He in return wanted Murphy to realize and believe in her own special skills. He appreciated her enthusiasm and the way she always had a kind word to say. Another leaping catch over the wall. Did she understand the joy she could bring? There was a mutual understanding that had not yet been spoken, of things past and present and once broken. "Where do you come from?" Max asked Murphy. He eagerly awaited her answer.

Just another hard luck story.

He once thought her voice didn't match her physical presence. He now was pleasantly surprised to see the connection. She saw in him a sense of organization of having himself together. "What is your story?" she asked him.

A sparkling defensive play.

He was sheepish to admit that in the beginning it was probably her name that pulled him to her. Little kids came in from miles away just to watch her play and scream her name. It was all fairy-tale like and he was a sucker for simplicity if nothing else. Now she wanted to change her name. Anata no o-namae wa? She wasn't quite willing to put herself in a new situation but she knew she needed a change of some kind. Changing hairstyles wasn't enough. He remained intrigued.

A passport to another time.

The fall season was fast approaching. Max wondered if he would still see Murphy. Their time together was scheduled apart. They both had places to be even if neither one of them quite knew where those places lay. Murphy didn't know if Max would still stop by. She didn't know quite how to read him. Their relationship had grown slowly over time, having been carefully nurtured if not sometimes forgotten. They had now shared the music of their lives, and it was an important step, one that gave their friendship a deeper understanding. A shared vision. It was one of the oldest clichés in the book but they both came to realize that one never quite knew what one had until it was gone.

The puck stops here.