by Vincent Yee
Hiroshi stared at the ball until his attention was caught by one of the soldiers.
“Hey Jap, throw the ball back over,” said the soldier.
Hiroshi looked up and saw that the catcher had gotten up from his position and walked over to the fence. He was still in his army uniform, but he had rolled up his sleeves and unbuttoned his shirt to reveal a white T-shirt underneath. There was dirt on his pants around his knees, most likely from digging them into the ground. He pushed up his catcher’s mask and pounded the mitt with his clenched right fist to get Hiroshi’s attention. “Hey Jap, any day now.”
Hiroshi stood there for a moment before he took a few steps toward the baseball. He bent down and picked it up. It was dusty and the leather was scraped in some places from where the bat had made contact with it. But the threading was still tight and the ball firm. He tossed the ball a few inches into the air, and it landed softly back into his palm. The warm baseball with smudges of encrusted dirt felt good in his hand. It brought back many memories of when he played the game back home with his friends and when he played a game of fetch with his dog.
“Hey look guys, the Jap thinks he can throw a baseball,” said the soldier, which elicited a few laughs from the other soldiers.
Hiroshi just stared at the solider. He was of medium build, probably the same height as Hiroshi. He had short dirty blond hair and thick eyebrows with deep-set eyes.
The soldier had re-entered the prison camp through a gate and took a few steps toward Hiroshi. He was about fifty feet away and his body language exuded annoyance and impatience.
“Okay, if it’ll make you throw the ball any faster, I’m game.” The solider knelt down and padded the mitt with his fist. He didn’t pull down his catcher’s mask as he assumed the position of a catcher. “Okay Jap, let’s see what you got,” goaded the solider.
Hiroshi simply stared down the path to the soldier and he found that he couldn’t resist. Even if it would be the only baseball that he would throw during his entire time in the prison camp, he would do it. Hiroshi moved his pail off to the side and stood up. He shifted his weight and placed his left foot in front of his right. He bent forward a little as he brought the ball around and behind him. There was no need for any special pitches. He would just send the ball down toward the soldier as fast as possible. The other soldiers had their faces against the fence now and were watching the event unfold with interest. He glared down into the soldier’s mitt and envisioned the ball there. He straightened up, brought the ball to his chest, lifted his leg to wind up his pitch and then, in one fluid motion, his body lunged forward as his throwing arm arced over his body unleashing the ball.
The ball hurtled down the path toward the catcher. It was straight as an arrow and it gained more speed as it closed the distance between itself and the soldier’s mitt. The ball slammed into the mitt with a loud snap that echoed throughout the air. The impact sent the soldier’s mitt into his chest and the full brunt of the pitch knocked him flat onto his back. The catcher’s mask slipped off his head and tumbled behind him.
Hiroshi stood up with a satisfied smug look on his face and he thought that perhaps the daily water-pumping exercise was actually good for something.
There was simply silence. Some of the soldiers simply looked on in awe as the whole event transpired in milliseconds. During the exchange, they watched doubtfully as Hiroshi wound up his pitch but could barely keep their eye on the ball before it slammed into the catcher’s mitt. It was the fastest fastball they ever saw.
“Kiddache! Looks like the Jap can throw after all,” someone yelled as a few of the soldiers erupted in laughter.
Private Kiddache looked up from his stunned supine position and then looked down at the ball that had firmly settled into his glove. He turned his head to his right and let out a cough.
Hiroshi was quite satisfied with himself and took delight in the moment. He nodded smugly in the direction of the flattened soldier who sat upright from his position. Hiroshi then turned away and started to walk back to meet Minami. He was so late and hoped that she was still waiting for him.
“Hey wait! Wait up,” shouted the low voice from behind.
Hiroshi turned and saw another soldier walking up to him. He was an older man in his mid-forties, with thick dark grayish hair and a strong build. He had slightly puffy cheeks but strong dark eyes. He was a captain, according to the stripes on his shoulder.
“Where did you learn to pitch like that?” asked the captain.
“Just back at home and in the few games that I’ve played with friends.”
“I didn’t know you folks played the game.”
“Just every now and then,” replied Hiroshi with some resignation.
“Well I’ll probably get in trouble for this, but I’m the coach for this sorry-ass team and that’s Captain Askeeny’s team. Our pitcher is just plain awful. Couldn’t hit the side of a barn if you know what I mean,” the captain said with a chuckle. “So I was thinking, if you like, since I’m sure you’re looking for something to do, why don’t you play on my team?”
Hiroshi stared at the captain in disbelief. “You want me to play? I don’t think I can leave the perimeter.”
The captain gave Hiroshi a disbelieving look and turned his gaze out into the desert and then back. “Where would you go?”
Hiroshi had to smile at the captain’s candor. “I guess you’re right, there is nowhere I could go.”
“Good, nothing will make me happier than for our team to beat the other team. The general thought it would be good for building troop morale but it’s a pain in the ass if you ask me. Also, that Kiddache fella that you knocked down, has been a pain in the ass too, taunting us for our bad pitching,” added the captain.
Hiroshi felt emboldened and offered, “I can also hit.”
“Boy, if you can bat as well as you can pitch, then you have to play on my team,” said the captain with a laugh. “Damn, you’re like a natural aren’t you? Though you’re a Jap and all.”
“Japanese…Japanese American. I was born in Los Angeles,” said Hiroshi in a firm tone.
The captain then glared back at Hiroshi. For a moment, he wasn’t sure if the captain was offended for being corrected but his glare disappeared as his eyes widened and he let out a hearty laugh. “And you got some attitude too! What’s your name son?”
“Hiroshi…Hiroshi Satoh,” stated Hiroshi proudly.
“Captain Doxers. Just call me coach from here on. Why don’t you come back tomorrow morning and I’ll let you throw a few.”
Hiroshi couldn’t believe the captain’s offer and gladly accepted it with a firm handshake. He then turned away from the field and jogged back to the water pump to meet Minami.
* * *
“You’re late,” said Minami with some curtness.
But instead of apologizing, Hiroshi simply rushed toward Minami and picked her up from around her waist and spun her around. Minami was taken aback by the boisterous gesture and laughed. He then let her body slide slowly through his arms until she was on her own two feet and he placed a quick kiss on Minami’s lips. She kissed him right back and was astonished by his gaiety on an otherwise normal morning.
“The most wonderful thing just happened, Minami!” said Hiroshi excitedly.
In a tone of equal excitement Minami asked, “And what would that be?”
“I’m going to play baseball!” yelled out Hiroshi.
Minami’s response wasn’t exactly the same. She didn’t understand as her expression turned to one of confusion and re-questioned Hiroshi. “You’re going to do what?”
“This morning, as I was coming over here. I saw some soldiers playing baseball and by chance, the ball landed near me. So I picked it up and this annoying soldier asked for the ball back and he wasn’t very nice about it. So I wanted to show him that I could throw so I threw the ball at him as hard as I could and it knocked him flat on his back. I just figured I prove to them white boys that this one-hundred-percent Japanese
American can throw just as good… no, better than them! And then their coach, who is this captain, asked me to play because he was really impressed with my throw. So I agreed!” said Hiroshi as he recounted the morning’s event to Minami.
Minami’s expression was muted. She merely looked up at him and wasn’t sure how to respond. “But you’re not one of them,” said Minami.
“I know, but it’s still baseball. It’s still two teams playing a game of baseball. You just have to understand how happy this makes me, Minami. I get to play baseball!”
Minami found Hiroshi’s happiness infectious and slowly her skepticism gave way to happiness. She still, however, had her doubts. “But you’re not a boy anymore playing a game.”
“You should have seen the coach–he was really old and he was still playing baseball. Alright, he was the coach and all but baseball is for everyone, it’s just the love of the game that matters, Minami!” exclaimed Hiroshi.
Minami giggled as Hiroshi twirled her in the air once more and let her settle into his arms. If he was happy, then she would be happy for him as well. But she couldn’t help but feel she was suddenly losing him to his love for baseball just when she felt she had just captured his affection the previous night. She was a little selfishly disappointed that with the new distraction, he may not have time for her anymore. “Can I watch?” Minami asked with some hesitation.
Hiroshi looked down at her and his expression turned to one of joy. “Of course you can watch. I’m not sure how many games they’ll be playing though but I would really want you to be there. That way, you can see how much better I am than these guys,” Hiroshi said with a wink. “I want you to see every batter I strike out and every home run I hit too.”
Minami gave an exaggerated sigh and shook her head in disbelief at Hiroshi’s cockiness. A side that she hadn’t seen before but something she found strangely appealing. Hiroshi was pretty sure of himself and she would definitely watch Hiroshi make good on every claim he made.
“And for every home run or every strike, I get a kiss from you,” said Hiroshi.
Minami looked at him in disbelief and teasingly said, “Well you’ll have to hit a home run first.”
Hiroshi picked Minami up again and spun her around as she laughed and begged him to stop. He stopped once more and allowed her to settle on her own two feet and she looked up at him with a smile. “Well here’s one for good luck then.”
Minami reached up and Hiroshi met her lips once more. Hiroshi was so enthralled by her that he reached behind her neck and drew her in closer, pulling her body into his. His kiss was warm and Minami’s emotions fluttered in excitement as his tongue delved into her mouth to find hers. His other hand massaged her back eliciting a warming sensation throughout her chest that Minami had never felt before. It felt as if her body was melding into his. Slowly, Hiroshi released her and placed a few more kisses on her soft lips until he simply placed his forehead on hers. Her eyes were still closed as a flood of emotions floated through her. She sighed and smiled, then gently patted his chest with her hand and simply said, “Okay, play ball.”
E L E V E N
The one prized possession that Hiroshi was able to take with him was his baseball glove. It was given to him as a present by his father during his high school days, and he had kept it ever since. The army wouldn’t let him take his bat, which he had carved himself from a piece of oak, because it was deemed a potential weapon. He was very disappointed to leave it behind.
He was first introduced to baseball as he watched the baseball teams from his high school play. Because his father constantly needed him on the farm, he never had a chance to play on a real team. But this didn’t stop him.
He was able to find an old baseball that probably flew astray when someone hit a home run. It was half-buried in the dirt, but once he scraped off the caked-on mud, it was like new. This was the baseball he practiced with. He marked up the strike zone on the side of the barn to practice his pitching and to his surprise, found that he was quite good at it. His trusty dog, Lefty, would retrieve every ball and bring it back for the next pitch. He sometimes even made it out to the baseball field on an early Sunday morning when no one was around, and with Lefty, he would bat a few. Even his batting was impressive. He hit a good number of balls way into left field, letting Lefty fetch them afterwards. When he managed to hit a home run, sending his dog way into left field, he ran the bases and imagined the fans cheering for him.
A few of his buddies would get together and they would play baseball, though there were never enough players. But it was their version of baseball nonetheless, and it was just a great feeling to play. When he wasn’t farming or playing baseball, he would be listening to games on the radio when they were on. He imagined himself being there.
So he found it ironic that of all places, the prison camp was where he finally had the chance to play real baseball. Over the next couple of weeks, a warm spring moved into the valley, and it boded well for the two teams of soldiers. When he told his parents that he would be playing with a bunch of the white soldiers, they thought he was out of his mind. His father thought it was nonsense to play with the very men who were keeping them imprisoned, but Hiroshi ignored them. Playing at home with a few friends was one thing, but playing on a team with a real baseball diamond was another.
The first few days weren’t easy. The white soldiers really didn’t appreciate Hiroshi being on the team and showed their disapproval by ignoring him. On the first day, Hiroshi sat by himself on the end of the bench. It seemed the coach raised quite a furor among his players by putting Hiroshi on the team. Whenever the opportunity presented itself, Private Kiddache would sneer at Hiroshi as if to remind him that he was simply a bench warmer. Hiroshi, for the most part ignored him. He knew that he got the better of Private Kiddache on that first day.
Minami didn’t make it out to the first two games, and Hiroshi was relieved. He didn’t want her to see him sitting on the bench when he gloated how he would be playing better than all the white soldiers. He also didn’t want her to see how the other soldiers were treating him. More often than not, his own teammates would try to trip him as he walked by the bench, but Hiroshi was quicker and outmaneuvered them. He also had to endure the taunts of being called “Jap” usually prefaced with some other expressive adjective. The coach was usually on the other end and for the most part ignored Hiroshi. Hiroshi was no longer sure about the coach’s intent and suspected his attitude was one of derision toward Hiroshi. He just wasn’t sure. But Hiroshi was sitting on a bench and he was watching a baseball game, with men chasing balls going deep into the outfield, fly-balls, pop-ups, and pitches that whizzed by batters’ swings. It was as close to real baseball that Hiroshi would ever get.
It was on the third game and into the bottom of the sixth inning when their pitcher was letting up hit after hit. The bases were loaded and already, Hiroshi’s team was down three runs. The pitcher had only accomplished one out and the count was three and one on the current batter. It wasn’t looking good at all as Hiroshi watched from the end of the bench, which was a few feet from the fence. Hiroshi leaned back and turned his head and unexpectedly saw Minami sitting on a blanket that she had laid out on the parched sandy ground. She had a little boy with her; he figured that he was probably her little brother, Yoshi. He wasn’t sure how long she was sitting there, but she offered a wave and a smile. Hiroshi smiled back and thought how impressive it was for her to watch him sitting on the bench. But as if Hiroshi’s call was answered, the coach looked over in Hiroshi’s direction and yelled out, “Hiroshi, get in there and let’s see you pitch.”
Hiroshi was astounded, but he bounded up from the bench and fitted the glove into his hand. As he walked up toward the pitcher’s mound, many of the other soldiers on both teams booed him. Hiroshi focused and kept his emotions to himself. The relieved pitcher was walking toward him and clumsily tossed the ball in Hiroshi’s direction hoping Hiroshi would drop the ball but he caught it effortlessly. The pitcher gave
him a scornful look as he passed.
Hiroshi took to the mound and the jeers subsided. Hiroshi found himself a bit nervous and took a few steps forward. He stared down the path of the pitch and saw the batter take a couple of practice swings. Hiroshi quickly loosened up and stretched out his right arm to get a good loose feel and then he assumed the pitcher’s position. The catcher brought down his mask and instead of indicating a pitch, simply gave the middle finger to Hiroshi. Hiroshi’s blood boiled in anger but instead of letting it consume him, he decided to remind the catcher how to play nice. The batter was ready and Hiroshi wound up his pitch as his left leg lifted upward. His arm arced over his body and he unfurled the ball down the pitcher’s path toward the catcher’s mitt. The catcher’s mitt resounded with a loud snap and sent the catcher off his feet and onto his behind. The batter didn’t even swing the bat when the umpire yelled out, “Strike Two!”
It excited Hiroshi: This was his first pitch and his first strike. The catcher shook his head for a moment, threw the ball back and got back onto his haunches. The catcher looked up at the bewildered batter, then back up at Hiroshi, and padded his mitt. The catcher then signaled for a fastball the traditional way and readied his catcher’s stance. Hiroshi nodded to acknowledge the pitch, wound up and unleashed another fastball that raced down the pitcher’s path. This time the batter tried to swing but missed as the ball found its mark sending the catcher off his feet once more. The catcher had to pull his hand out of the glove and shook it to dissipate the dull throbbing pain. The umpire yelled out “Strike three!”
A few grunts of encouragement came from his teammates, who were amazed at Hiroshi’s talent. This emboldened him even more. The next batter came up with only one out left to close out the inning. He eyed the catcher, whose eyes trembled as he waited for the pitch. The next batter didn’t stand a chance: In three quick pitches he was out, and the sixth inning drew to a resounding close. There were three more innings to go and the coach decided then to keep Hiroshi in.
