Home Run

“Strike two!” the umpire shouted. My friend Max stood at the plate. Determination crossed his face as the ball flew toward him. He struck the ball with such force that half of his old, wooden bat flew into the infield as the ball sailed over the fence. Half smiling, half frowning, Max slowly jogged around the bases. After the game, I asked Max about his bat. “It was the only bat my family could afford,” Max replied gloomily.

On the way home, I asked my mom if we could stop at a sports store to look at used bats. She agreed. I saw many types and sizes of bats. I found a few that I thought Max might like, but none were the right bat. In a forgotten corner, I saw a used composite Easton bat that looked almost new. No scratches of any kind marred it. I checked the price: $45.00. It fit my price range; I eagerly purchased the bat.

Over the next two days, I wondered if I’d done the right thing, since his parents might buy him a bat or be bothered that I had. Finally game day arrived. I surprised Max with the new Easton composite bat. His eyes lit up with joy as I presented my gift. Both times he went up to bat during the game he got hits.

By the ninth inning, we were losing 25–22, but the bases were loaded. A home run would win the game. It was Max’s turn to hit again, and did he hit! The ball soared into the air and flew over the fence. All the players stood in awe with their eyes glued to the ball. This time the bat did not break.

After the game, Max and his parents came over to thank me for the new bat.

“Well, that is what friends are for. They help each other in tough situations.”

As I relaxed in bed that night, contentment filled my body. I loved and cared for my friend Max. I also realized that I had hit a big home run today, too!