Dave was annoyed at the little boy, Tom, who had failed to solve the same math problem three times. Dave sighed, got out a fresh piece of paper, and explained again to Tom how to solve the problem.
Even as Dave explained, Tom stared blankly. Finally, Dave could take it no longer: “Tom, you need to solve this problem! It’s too late now. I’m giving you a low score.”
That night, as Dave lay in bed, he regretted volunteering to tutor Tom. Originally, Dave had thought that Tom was the son of famous umpire Rob Smith, but it turned out to be a misunderstanding. Rob indeed had a son named Tom- it just wasn’t the Tom that Dave tutored. Dave’s Tom was just the ball boy at the park.
In the morning, as Dave was eating breakfast, he felt better. The big game was the next day, and everything was going smoothly. The laundry finished washing the sports outfit. The baseball equipment which Dave had ordered arrived and was stored in a safe place.
Heading outside to do some exercises, Dave almost crashed into Tom. The boy was nervously fidgeting.
“Hi!” he squeaked out, “I was w-wondering if you c-could let me retake the test?”
“No,” Dave said bluntly, “A score’s a score.”
Tom looked crestfallen, but he continued. “I think you should give me a second chance. I’ll try my best.”
Dave sighed, and started to refuse, but Tom looked devastated. “Alright.”
Tom squealed in relief, and the two spent the whole day on practice tests. Tom, true to his word, did much better. Later at school, he aced the real math test, for the first time ever.
Dave felt happy for Tom. His only regret was not practicing baseball as much as he had hoped.
Baseball day. It was the day of the big game. Dave hurriedly grabbed his equipment. Gloves, bats, balls- the whole gear. Putting on his outfit, Dave rushed to the stadium.
The game was close. Dave was on third base, with the potential winning run, and his team with two outs, at the bottom of the ninth inning. When his team hit the ball, Dave dashed home. He touched the base just as the catcher tagged him. But the umpire Rob Smith signaled that Dave was out.
Dave gasped, then ran, finding a place to cry.“This is all Tom’s fault,” Dave muttered, “It’s because of him that I lost.” Dave wanted to be alone in his misery, but he heard a shout.
“Hey! Dave!” Rob Smith yelled from below, grinning and pointing at the field, “Don’t you see the celebration? You just won the game.”
Dave gaped at him, unable to comprehend, “Me? Win?”
“Yes. My ball boy got a closer look and reported that you touched home base safely. I normally do not reverse my calls, but I trust the ball boy …and the sunlight did briefly block my view.
“Tom?” Dave asked disbelievingly, “The ball boy?”
Rob Smith’s eyes twinkled.
Even as Dave explained, Tom stared blankly. Finally, Dave could take it no longer: “Tom, you need to solve this problem! It’s too late now. I’m giving you a low score.”
That night, as Dave lay in bed, he regretted volunteering to tutor Tom. Originally, Dave had thought that Tom was the son of famous umpire Rob Smith, but it turned out to be a misunderstanding. Rob indeed had a son named Tom- it just wasn’t the Tom that Dave tutored. Dave’s Tom was just the ball boy at the park.
In the morning, as Dave was eating breakfast, he felt better. The big game was the next day, and everything was going smoothly. The laundry finished washing the sports outfit. The baseball equipment which Dave had ordered arrived and was stored in a safe place.
Heading outside to do some exercises, Dave almost crashed into Tom. The boy was nervously fidgeting.
“Hi!” he squeaked out, “I was w-wondering if you c-could let me retake the test?”
“No,” Dave said bluntly, “A score’s a score.”
Tom looked crestfallen, but he continued. “I think you should give me a second chance. I’ll try my best.”
Dave sighed, and started to refuse, but Tom looked devastated. “Alright.”
Tom squealed in relief, and the two spent the whole day on practice tests. Tom, true to his word, did much better. Later at school, he aced the real math test, for the first time ever.
Dave felt happy for Tom. His only regret was not practicing baseball as much as he had hoped.
Baseball day. It was the day of the big game. Dave hurriedly grabbed his equipment. Gloves, bats, balls- the whole gear. Putting on his outfit, Dave rushed to the stadium.
The game was close. Dave was on third base, with the potential winning run, and his team with two outs, at the bottom of the ninth inning. When his team hit the ball, Dave dashed home. He touched the base just as the catcher tagged him. But the umpire Rob Smith signaled that Dave was out.
Dave gasped, then ran, finding a place to cry.“This is all Tom’s fault,” Dave muttered, “It’s because of him that I lost.” Dave wanted to be alone in his misery, but he heard a shout.
“Hey! Dave!” Rob Smith yelled from below, grinning and pointing at the field, “Don’t you see the celebration? You just won the game.”
Dave gaped at him, unable to comprehend, “Me? Win?”
“Yes. My ball boy got a closer look and reported that you touched home base safely. I normally do not reverse my calls, but I trust the ball boy …and the sunlight did briefly block my view.
“Tom?” Dave asked disbelievingly, “The ball boy?”
Rob Smith’s eyes twinkled.
