Story #10: "The Knuckleball Artist" (Chapter 21)

A sad sermon, two hockey masks, two six-packs of Special Beer, a trash bag, one lightning rod, one tiny hiccup, an empty tank of gas, and a big unit.

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CHAPTER 21

PINSTRIPES

Saturday morning knuckleball sessions were not going well, and a year of Saturday morning practices was not going to fix the problem. Neither wanted to be the first to say it, but there’s only so long you can keep hunting through unmowed outfield grass chasing down wild pitches.

Reginald’s instructions couldn’t have been simpler: stay relaxed, fingernails lightly into the “horseshoe” above the seams, no wrist flick or spin. Push the ball with your fingers—smooth and steady. Stay relaxed. Stay relaxed. Relaxed, like you’re throwing the ball at the bottom of a pool. Then nothing but the last task: watch the ball float and whiffle.

Hard to believe, but out of all the instructions, it was the “stay relaxed” that gave them both fits. They both wanted it in the way that never worked. The two could talk about it all day, but it hardly mattered. Their discussions were a masterclass in the art of something you forgot how to do, a…