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 Contemporary poetry by Dan Donlan

MARTY HASNOCHANCE --REVISED

By Dan Donlan, www.PoetryPoem.com/dandy1    Unlock all Features - Upgrade to Poetry Prime

The story of Marty Hasnochance is non fiction revised to be fiction.
The names have been changed to protect me from lawsuits. The story
has been changed from nonfiction to fiction so the family cannot say,
"Dad you made this up!" It all started one spring day. The Petticoat
Dictator said, "You kids are too noisy, Dandy take your son to the Park."
After an hour or so of swinging. My Son four at the time. I only had one
child, it came to me. By you kids she meant me. Later in the park it was
confirmed. kids were going to their Moms and saying, "Mom, this man is
hogging the swing."

So we did the Father son thing and sat up on this hill. Down below it
appeared a little League game was about to start. I always wanted my son
to play shortstop or pitcher and I had to be a coach or umpire if he
was going to play a key position. Down below there seemed to be some
discussion with a heavy padded man wearing a black suit and mask. He
looked official but as I later learned he was getting five dollars for
umpiring several games and wanted his overweight son to play second.
He had good eyesight but he was not too bright. In winter in a red
suit he played Santa Clause and the same kids jerked on his beard and
snuck gum inside his fake beard.

I asked one of the mother's who seemed irritated, "When does the game start?"
She answered after a vulger word about father's being lazy, "The game probably
won't. These assorted Misfits have no coach. If they don't find someone
dummer than the umpire and who will work for nothing in five minutes the
game is cancelled." My son with tears in eyes said, "Baseball---play baseball!"
The Misfits had a new coach and mascot.

Already all the athletes had gone to play for the first two teams chosen, the
misfits had to really love the game they knew nothing about. These nerdy
boys wore high powered glasses, were either skinny or fat, and had no idea
what a baseball was but the chess team was filled with bigger boys. I couldn't
find a shortstop who could throw all the way to first base or a pitcher who
did not bounce the ball home and there were sixteen misfits to choose from.
This was how I first got to know Marty Hasnochance. He was the littlest of little,
a quiet boy staring up at me, "What position do you play?", in a mere whisper,
"Anywhere you want me to coach." I said throw me a ball. I had a shortstop a
possible broken rib, a catcher, a center fielder,sadly they were all Marty
Hasnochance. The Misfits lost the first game 19-0 on the mercy rule. You say
how sad. We never lost another game all the way to the Championship game.


Next game Marty was pitching. I found this fat kid who could hardly run. He hit
the ball a mile and he could catch. This tall lanky kid wearing heavy glasses,
could barely see the catcher also pitched. He threw enough strikes after the
batters were diving to the ground to avoid wild pitches to keep us in the game.
Johnny, tiny and never hit a ball all year did nothing but walk. My misfits
trained not to try to throw out a runner, throw to the base beyond where they
were going. Like if it was a sure out at first they were surprised to find a
fumbled ball waiting for them at second.

The championship game was against the first chosen elite. The coaches son played
pitcher, and shortstop. Marty threw the first of his no hitters in his little
league career. Marty was picked up select by the elite team next year. If anyone
has read this far this is a non fiction fictional story of a copulation of people
I have known. Oh, my son the Mascot. He also grew up to play baseball but not for
me so he did not play shortstop or pitch. I found some old scorecard from his
playing days. He batted nearly .500. I said, "I didn't see many of your games
because I was coaching other teams. I notice you only struck out two times." He said,
"Dad you used to pitch batting practice. You thought you were Randy Johnson. I swung
at everything that came towards me in self defense. I only walked if the ball hit me."

This is about Marty. Both of Marty's parents were no shows at his games. Even though
he was a star. I had heard they were alcoholic and left him with no support. League
paid his entrance fees. Much like me in grade school eating one meal a day, school
lunches. Marty was by far the best player I coached in twenty years of coaching.
One day I ran into the first baseman. I last heard Marty was playing Junior college
ball. I said, "What ever happened to Marty? I thought he would be playing in the
Majors?" And he said, "Coach, don't you know? Marty is in prison serving five years
for selling drugs." I was in shock. "Marty?", "Coach, he didn't use drugs himself.
He was living on the streets. Selling drugs allowed him to play ball in college.
Baseball was all he lived for." Sometimes non fiction is stranger and more hard to
believe than fiction.

**Nonfiction: This is exactly how I became a Little League coach long before my boy
played. Marty was real except the name. I followed Marty as far as second year
in junior college. I was proud of the members of that team. Several did go on, play
college ball. The catcher had a club leg but went on and played small college locally.
The boy who could not hit one day stopped me in town and he was in law school,see some
of my explayers often. One played football, center for the U of Wash. Two are local
fireman. I coached soccer ten years the same way. My son wanted me to take him to
futball signup. I had no Idea it was the European game. I was recruited without ever
playing soccer and had to learn the game in books. Two of my players different years
were selected high school player of the year. You know the older I get the better I wuz
and I have to coach cause good I never wuz.







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