Baseball Clown Story

     This is the official baseball story from when I was 9 years old. It was written up several years ago – but the incidents related here are not memories of memories but rather they are still very clear. And I have told the tale at storytelling events.

     It was the summer between fourth and fifth grade – so it was 1963. I was at a Little League baseball game on the field at Boston Valley Elementary School – it was early evening, and the sun was still shining brightly. I was with my best friend, Diane, and her mother and sister. Her brother was playing in the game. We were sitting on a blanket on the ground way out past third base.

     At some point in the game, I saw the pitcher throw the baseball to the third baseman. The third baseman did not catch the ball – so the ball kept flying past third base and was heading in our direction. Diane's sister ducked to one side and Diane ducked to the other side. But I stayed right where I was – I thought, “What are the chances?” I blacked out, and my head went down to the blanket. The baseball had smacked me in the mouth! The right side, upper teeth. It didn't hurt immediately, but there was bleeding.

     Diane's mother got me to her car and drove me home. Dad was out in the yard, and he met us in the driveway. Mrs. C explained what happened in as calm a voice as she could. Dad squatted down to my eye level to survey the damage. I can still see his expression as he put one hand to the side of his face in a “Oh my gosh” expression. He then helped me into the car and drove all the way to the emergency room at Mercy Hospital in South Buffalo.

     The folks at the hospital attempted a couple of x-rays, but nothing would come out clear. While we were waiting for the x-rays to develop, there was a nurse who was taking all our information. When we told her our address, her face lit up – she lived near us – on the hill off of Zimmerman. When she realized how old I was, her face lit up again and the nurse asked if I knew a boy named Kevin and she said his last name also. I said that I did indeed know him, he had been in my class at school. “What do you think of him?” the nurse asked, and I said, “Not much.” Everyone giggled as the nurse explained that Kevin was her brother! When the staff realized that better x-rays were needed for my mouth, they suggested to Dad that he take me to our dentist and ask if he could do some x-rays.

     So we drove all the way back to North Boston. And at first Dad was going to wait until the next day, Saturday, to take me to the dentist, but we were driving right past the dentist's home, and Dad decided to stop. Dr. H lives in a huge house – the front of it is the living area, and the back is where the dental office is. Dad knocked on the front door. By this time it was late on Friday evening. Dad explained things to Dr. H and asked if it was possible to take an x-ray of me, and Dr. H opened his office and did just that! My baby teeth in that area of my mouth were long gone, and the permanent teeth were in. A couple of those teeth were bent and loose after the baseball hit. My lip was split, but it was decided a stitch was not needed. The teeth, with luck, would go back into place and be all right. The very front right tooth was probably dead – a dead nerve – but we would not do anything about it unless there was a problem later.

     The next morning I woke up with a top lip that was hanging down almost to my chin – there was a scab over the split portion in the lip. I felt like the ugliest person in the whole world.

     In the kitchen, Mrs. C was sitting with my Mom at the table. Mrs. C was so upset at what had happened to me, and she was worried that my parents were mad at her! Mom assured Mrs. C that she and Dad were not mad at her – it was my own fault that I did not have sense enough to get out of the way of a baseball heading straight for my mouth! Mrs. C said that her family had an extra ticket to the circus in town that night – could they take me with them?

     My Mom was usually a negative person – and never was I more grateful for that than when Mrs. C asked if I could go to the circus with them. There was never going to be a better time for NOT going to the circus – I just wanted to hide at home with my wounded face. But to my infinite surprise, and adults were always surprising me with the things that they said, Mom answered that I could, indeed, go to the circus with them that night!

     Inside the big top, a mousy girl with a fat lip sat on the bottom bleacher hoping no one would notice or stare at her. A clown with a brightly colored beach ball stopped in front of me and wordlessly handed me the ball. Then the clown motioned for me to stand up – I felt so self-conscious, but I got up.

      The clown motioned me to walk to the nearest ring. And when I did, there was another clown in the ring motioning for me to throw the ball. I threw the beach ball toward the clown in the ring – it bounced wimpily, pitifully rolled to the clown and stopped halfway. The clown in the ring clapped and bounded to the beach ball as if it had been the most perfect throw in the world – picked it up and then was on his way. The clown outside the ring clapped and smiled and walked me back to the bleachers. I sat back down again but sensed that the clown was still there – so I looked up and we made eye contact. Then the clown waved a giant good bye and was on his way to the next set of bleachers.

      My eyes followed him until he was gone. What the clown had given me that night was my first ever experience with unconditional love.

      When I think back now on those who helped me through the baseball- in-the-mouth incident – I realize that they are all nothing short of heroes – from Dad and Mrs. C to the emergency room staff and the dentist Dr. H. The examples set from this experience taught me that I wanted to be all of them when I grow up.

      And most especially, I decided, from that moment forward, I wanted to be that clown!

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