Play Ball!
Play Ball! by Dave Wright The two pickup trucks met head-to-head on a side street in Caboose, Kentucky, a town nestled in the backwaters of the Ohio River. The chrome-filled Ford F-250 roared in reverse, its Confederate flag waving from one side of the bed and an obsolete political flag saluting from the other. An older model Dodge sped forward in synch with the Ford, intimidating it with its rusty bumper. A stop sign, usually ignored by the driver of the flashy Ford appeared in its rear-view window. The busy traffic required a snap decision—to abide by the law or to hope for mercy from a throng of impatient commuters. The driver of the Ford chose poorly. When the Ford braked to a halt at the intersection, the driver of the dilapidated Dodge opened his door, pulled an aluminum softball bat from behind the seat, and began to beat the shit out of the headlights, the rear-view mirrors, and for good measure, the passenger-side front windshield; then he calmly returned to his rusty