The fly ball looks like a speck in the sky of blue. I drift under it, feet gliding across the grass. The afternoon sun beats on my head. It's the 11th inning, and I hold my glove high.
Sometimes the sweetest things in life are also the forbidden. And, sometimes, that's what makes them so sweet. Benardello remembers a mother's love and a game he shouldn't have been able to see.
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