…Cooper braced his knees and
swallowed hard. His saliva was thin, warm and salty and the swallow
only added to the butterflies in his stomach. He knew that Mat’s
fastball was the best in the league, but Cooper felt like an eternity
passed in that moment after the pitch left his friend’s hand. He
prepared himself to push off into a run as he heard the crack of the
bat against the ball echo in his ears.
Time stood still.
He was sure the crowd must be
roaring, but in his world, Cooper’s only focus was on the ball coming
toward him. He imagined hearing the whir of it buzzing through the
air; the space around it became blurry and the ball itself seemed to
grow larger as it neared. It was over Mat, past the shortstop and not
anywhere near foul or center. It was Cooper’s play; no doubt. He
couldn’t move deep enough – left enough – fast enough toward the now
falling baseball. He felt every muscle quiver as he raced to the
would-be homer and simultaneously spotted the runner on third making
his way to a home-run. That opponent seemed to be moving faster and
further toward his goal than Cooper was to his own. In fact, he was
sure he was moving in slow motion. As the stitches on that fly came
into focus and it began to lose its wings, though, Cooper gained his
and – with an amazing push for a boy of only twelve – he was
airborne. Cooper stretched his tall body and extended his long arm to
its maximum reach. With a resounding SMACK, a beautiful sting ran
from his palm down his arm, to his shoulder, across his collar bone,
down his spine, through his tense, elongated legs and calves and
straight to his tingling toes that then slammed into the ground
followed by the rest of his slumping body.
He had the ball.
As he clumsily stood up in
disbelief, Cooper’s world came back into focus. The cheering and
applause of the crowd was deafening. He wasn’t sure if it had just
begun or if it had been going all along. Cooper leapt high in the air
– oblivious to any game pains – to loud background chants of, “WONDER
KID! WONDER KID! WONDER KID!” It was a title he had earned and was
proud to hear called while his teammates rushed him. “WONDER KID!
WONDER KID!” Cooper heard the cry over the cheers and hoots of his
fellow players. Mat and the other boys jumped and screamed when their
coaches joined the huddle. “WONDER KID! WONDER KID,” the chant
continued!
Finally, squeezing between the
broad shoulders of the older ball players, Cooper spotted his proud
father grinning as widely as a crocodile. Instead of the half hugs
that are acceptable for boys, anything goes after a winning
competition. Cooper’s dad pulled him down off a set of shoulders upon
which he had been hoisted and he squeezed him into a full bear hug.
He held Cooper back and looked into the crystal blue eyes that were
nestled deep in his tanned face. As such an athletic boy, Cooper was
already the spitting image of his young dad. Cooper smiled back with
his perfect, white-toothed grin.
“WONDER KID! WONDER KID,” the
calls boomed around the Ridge men.
The elder Ridge pushed Cooper’s hat
backward off his head and he ruffled his son’s thick, brown mop-top.
“WONDER KID! WONDER KID,” The Wonderboys team members picked up as
the sounds of the exiting crowds began to die away. Cooper’s dad
planted a flat, hard kiss on his son’s forehead.
“Dad,” said a mock angry Cooper!
“Not in front of the guys.”
“I can’t help it, son. I’m so
proud! That’s my boy they’re cheering. The Wonder Kid! My son,
Danny Mills. Danny Mills, The Wonder Kid,” he responded.
Cooper cocked his head in
confusion. His father’s face began to fade, followed by the little
league scene that surrounded him. He turned his head shamefully to
one side and – just before feeling that familiar, warm tickle in his
ear, he heard the distant, muffled ringing of, “DANNY MILLS – THE
WONDER KID! DANNY MILLS – THE WONDER KID…”
…
Cooper opened his eyes in a state
of disorientation and shook his head back and forth. It was the only
part of his body that he could move since a car accident eight years
ago. He was paralyzed from the neck down. The same accident killed
his father. So, from the time he was four, Cooper was little more
than a very wild imagination attached to a very idle body.
He had just had one of his dreams.
Tonight, he got to be one of his very favorite characters: Cooper
Ridge, The Wonder Kid. Cooper dreamed often and his dreams always
felt real.
Sometimes, in his dreams, he was a
regular student in a regular school with regular friends. Sometimes,
he ran and played with the dog that lived down the block and
sometimes, on quiet nights, he would simply dream he was taking a walk
down a cool, calm street in town…just a simple walk…simple to anyone
who could do it, anyway. To Cooper, those ordinary dreams were some
of his most peaceful and satisfying.
Tonight, though, he didn’t
dream about being ordinary. He dreamed he was extraordinary. When
Cooper was The Wonder Kid, he was a hero. He swore down to the soles
of his feet that he really felt his arms moving; he really felt his
legs pounding the ground; he really felt his heart throbbing in his
chest. Most of all, during those dreams, he really felt joy…
