"Back it up, boys." Coach told the team. "Let the trainer have some room."
A middle-aged man came into my line of vision, looking down at me. "Hi there. My name is Steve. Pull away the towel for a second."
I did so.
"Scrapped you pretty good." Steve pushed my hand back to my chin. "I can clean it real quick and put a bandage on it. Should be fine."
I sighed with relief. I wasn't the only one. All the guys nearby started to talk about me, reassured that I could stay in. It's a special feeling knowing that you're needed by a team. Even if there was no guarantee that we could keep it tied and get another chance to bat in extra innings.
Steve, the trainer, handed his bag to Mr. Miller and used him as a makeshift table. He pulled out some supplies to clean my chin, making it sting. He used a bulky bandage and molded it to my chin. It felt awkward and made me feel silly, but I knew I couldn't play if I kept bleeding.
