When he had finished eating, she told him to go and play outside until dinner. As he trudged up to his room to get his baseball cap to shield his eyes from the sun, Thomas decided that she wasn’t ordering him to go to the playground, rather she just wanted him to get some fresh air and get out of her hair for awhile. When he entered his room, he happened to glance at the autographed “game” baseball that sat on a small brass-plaqued pedestal on his bookcase next to the baseball bat which he had used to slam the winning homer on his trophy ball in the last game he had played in High School. “Baseball!”, he thought to himself in glee, “There’s the ticket! No swings for me! No sirree! I’ll find some guys and we’ll practice pitching and batting!”

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