The ball sailed over the left-field fence and landed square in the middle of Mr. Hilroy’s windshield.
A hush fell over the crowd.
Mr. Hilroy was well-known as the town hothead. Most in attendance were sure that the accident would spell the end of little-league baseball in the park, after he sued the organizers for damages.
All eyes turned to face the curmudgeon.
He was standing at the top of the bleachers, waving his arms for the batter to head for home.
“Go on, boy! It’s the winning run!” he shouted at the child, a huge smile plastered across his face.
“Who knew,” Wendy Vance whispered to Larry Kepler. “The old bastard is a baseball fan.”