A/N: You knew there had to be another baseball story at some point this off-season, didn't you? How could I help it, having finally won the World Series?

METAPHOR

by

Owlcroft

"Oooh!" exclaimed McCormick, as the judge winced and averted his head partway from the TV screen. "Can he do that?"

"I'm not sure," Hardcastle replied. "I dunno whether Marshall's got the right to the basepath or the second baseman has the right to the ball."

"Kuiper," said McCormick. "Turn it up," he motioned to the remote on the coffee table.

They heard Vin Scully commiserating with Duane Kuiper, now lying flat on the red crushed brick of the Dodger basepaths, with the rest of the Giants fielders gathered around, waiting for the trainer and manager to get out there.

"Marshall's standing on second," they heard Scully say, "but I'm not sure the umpire is going to allow him the base."

"That's a shame." Hardcastle shook his head. "Kuiper, you said? He can't weigh more than 170 wringing wet and Marshall's gotta be, what, way over six feet and 230?" He grunted in empathetic pain as they saw the replay of the collision between Dodger baserunner and Giant infielder.

Mark flinched as they saw the replay from a different angle. "It's always the little guys who get hit the hardest. Hey," his eyes narrowed and he frowned a bit, "isn't that a metaphor?" He looked vaguely proud of himself, then glanced at the man in the chair next to his. "I betcha there's a lot of those kind of metaphors in baseball."

The judge squinted at him, then rubbed his chin slowly. "You mean like always keep your eye on the ball? And run inside the lines?"

"Umm," McCormick kept his gaze on the television, where the injured second baseman was slowly being helped to his feet. "Maybe more like learning to get a good pitch to hit and only swing at strikes. You only get a few at-bats, so make the most of them."

Kuiper was now walking gingerly off the field, cradling his left arm to his body, and the two viewers could hear the announcer saying it looked like it might be a broken collar bone. There was a small meeting at second base and Lasorda was jogging out to see what the ruling was.

"Or, play hard but play fair?" The judge thought for a moment, then added, "Play for the team and not for yourself."

Lasorda was now dancing in fury at second base as the umpires explained that his baserunner was out for not allowing the second baseman to field the ball. He threw his cap onto the infield grass and then kicked it.

Mark snickered briefly at his antics, then turned back to the judge. "Play hardball, but be sure to cover all your bases."

Hardcastle nodded approvingly. "Run hard, but take it one base at a time. Don't slide in with your spikes high."

"Oh, good one." McCormick pointed at the screen where Marshall was joining his manager in a slow walk off the field after both had been ejected for arguing. "Only argue with the ump when you know you're right."

"Now you're coming out of left field," grinned the judge. "But you know, that's a good point you made. Baseball is a pretty good metaphor for life in a lotta ways."

Mark shrugged. "Well, yeah. But I was thinking more that life was a metaphor for baseball."

finis