“Hey Driftwood, how are ya?” Said an excited Sid.
“What?” I said, getting off my twelve-speed and shaking Sid’s hand.
“Driftwood,” he repeated, “or would you prefer Castaway?”
“Your puns are usually bad but at least they’re decipherable. This one, however, has got me completely baffled.”
“You know, your new name, ‘cuase you’re all washed up.”
“Oh! Stick it in there deep,” I said, making a stabbing motion into my back. “Lordy, I haven’t seen you in, what, eight months and you go right to the release daggers? Some friend.”
“I thought you said on the phone you weren’t that busted up about it,” said Sid, genuinely worried if he’d crossed the line.
“I’m not. But washed up… dude, that’s cold blooded.”
“I was kidding. I’m sorry.” Sid dropped his head, “That was rude of me.”
“No it wasn’t. It was awesome, good teammate award,” I punched him the shoulder. “’Sides, I’m fine. I was actually waiting for someone rip me a little instead of all this, the dream is dead crap I get. I got fired from a team that got swept in the play-offs, it’s not like I got the cancer or something.
“I know. I know, but kicking you while you’re down wasn’t very Christ like of me.”
“Oh brother… Yeah, I’m sure Jesus hates you now,” I said, stepping back from Sid on the sidewalk of downtown Hudson so a couple walking their dog could cut through. “Besides, I’m not down.”
“So what now?” Asked Sid. “You gonna play again next year?”
“Maybe,” I said, watching the dog go. It was a retriever mix, a shaggy, odd shaped mutt, though it didn’t pull on its leash. I liked dogs that walked easy and didn’t drag you. I never had a dog that did that. I wondered if that dog and I had anything in common in a grand, metaphysical, beyond the universe kind of way?
“I might play next year, but I don’t know if I want to do it in the states,” I said, looking back at Sid, “I’m kinda burned out with United States baseball. All the parks look the same to me and stuff.” I did a windup and delivered while I talked, out of habit I think. “How about you? You going to keep playing fireman?”
“Playing?” He asked cynically. “I sure am, till they tear the jersey off my back,” he said, quoting one of my own lines as sarcastically as his Christian countenance could muster. “But, I guess I feel like you sometimes: once you see one fire engine, you’ve seen em all.”
“Yeah, I think everyone, no matter what they do, feels like they’ve seen all the fire engines every once and a while,” I said, looking after the distant dog once more. Then I spun back to Sid, “but just think, you get to spray the hose and slide down the pole whenever you want!” I hoped up and down like a little kid, “doesn’t that make it all worth it?”
Cid stared at me, his face turning pink. “You know, that kind of talk coupled with that kind of excitement could be taken the wrong way by a lot of people.”
“Oh Geez, Sid, you have a dirty mind for such a strong Christian man.”