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The Day I met Him- The night I will never forget

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The Day I met Him- The night I will never forget He stands, trembling slightly, on the mound. He molds one hand to the feel of the ball. The other hand, which we don't see, is probably streaked with perspiration inside the leather glove that covers it. His face, also dripping with sweat, is twisted into a grim expression of uncertainty and what appears to be anguish. Everybody knows that this man will go down in History as one of Baseball's most charismatic pitchers. I met him, whilst doing an assignment for the local newspaper. I was writing an article on local heroes. It had come across as a big surprise to me, when I discovered that a Baseball legend was living right here in Baltimore. Nobody knew he lived here. Nobody had seen or heard of him, ever since he left playing baseball whilst at the peak of his career. ...read more.


His torso was free from the chair, however, and his arms were curled tightly up to his chin, his hands twisted into loose fists - like a boxer on guard against his world. I said hello and sat down. Time was running out by the second, even though for him 10:00pm was not too late. He answered my questions by writing on a pad of paper, which he held beneath his right hand, using a biro lodged between his second and third fingers. His hands shook uncontrollably throughout, so that by the end of the session the underside of his forearm was scribbled in black ink where he had missed the page and written on himself instead. The shapes he had managed to make on the pad where at first indecipherable to me, but I soon managed to make quick work of translating them. The skin on his hands was raw and flaky as if exposure to the air had harmed them. We did this for about an hour. ...read more.


When she had finished he indicated for the writing pad, which Josie fetched and held beneath her hand, placing the biro between his fingers. I watched as he carefully scrawled a T on the page, then looked up at me and laughed. I was still confused and had to look to Josie for help. "It means Thank you." said Josie. "Well done." Minutes later I was outside on my bike again, passing the bright windows of the church, windows which I would pass many more times over the next year, on my way to work or on my way back from Uni. I would pass them in the grainy light of early morning, and in the dark of night. In all those cycle journeys though, I never felt like I did that first time I left his house stepping out into the sharp autumn night. I never felt so displaced again, so clumsy and so ridiculously glad to be alive, after suffering the shock of sudden exposure to a harder, more real world. 992 words 1 Asfia Malik ...read more.

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