The Catchers

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The Catchers.

Somewhere in the middle of junior school, about the first grade or year, we did athletics. We ran the childish equivalent to the 100-m (33.33-feet) or 200-m (66.66-feet) dash. Teachers were organized into lots. Four of the teachers were catchers. Each students caught was in the pattern of first to fourth place. Being selected within the first four from an eight track run was being amongst the select few. These would compete amongst themselves to select the Frankie Fredericks or USAID Bolt of the morrow. Each time I crossed the finish line when the first race volley started, I made myself available to the teacher who was the fourth position catcher. Imagine the consternation throughout junior school when these teachers brushed past or literally side stepped me to select someone else!

Then my sister's friend hit me with a 99-yard home run with her remark. I didn't understand English then. I should have. I now do. It's too late. "Your little brother was number 1 last!"

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