IN THE BOX
a play by MEL GLENN
A batter – thirty years of age, slim and fit
A catcher – thirty, stocky
An umpire – fifty, overweight
A stage, completely dark.
Noise of crowd in baseball stadium.
Lights up to reveal a batter in full uniform at plate,
catcher in black and umpire in black
lit by a spot from above
Two out, bottom of the ninth, runner on first, tying run at the plate. Pitcher in no hurry.
(BATTER steps out of box,
looks in direction of third base coach.)
Take sign. Shit.
Pitcher looks in. He delivers. Fastball on the corner.
Pitcher winds. Fast ball again.
Are you kidding me? Damn!
Got to admit. That looked like a ball from here. Two strikes.
(BATTER steps out of box.)
Okay, Okay. Steady. Steady.
Here’s the windup. Down to the nitty-gritty. Pitch on the way.
Whoa! It’s a freakin’ grapfruit!
(WHACK sound of bat on ball)
Oh! Oh! He got that one. There it goes, folks, long drive … over the fence. Kiss that baby goodbye. A walk-off home run!
(ROAR of crowd. “MVP! MVP! MVP!”)
BATTER: (pumping fist)
(BUZZER sound. Lights go out. Stage is dark.
An electric sign appears: YOUR TIME IS UP.
NEXT BATTER PLEASE.)