Every day on my way home from school, I stopped by the same fence. I pulled my binoculars from my backpack and patiently waited for my idols to arrive.

Five minutes later, six of the boys would arrive. In another two minutes, fifteen more would appear over the hill. And by another 5, all fifty-four boys would be fully assembled.

Crack! Another ball went flying. They seemed to improve every day. I would silently celebrate their great plays all by myself… until one day I was noticed.

The ball landed right near the fence, and an outfielder ran over to retrieve the ball. As he approached, I could tell he was a bit older than me. Maybe by a grade or two. Not knowing any better, I gleefully waved. The boy rudely snorted and ran back to the others.

I was slightly confused by his response, but I didn’t think too deeply about it.

I continued to watch them day after day, until once again, the ball landed near the fence. This time, I knew I had something to say. I waited timidly as the same outfielder approached the fence to retrieve the ball.

When he reached to pick up the ball, our eyes locked for a moment. Not knowing what to say, I just blurted out a half-hearted, “Hi…!”

The boy once again ignored me and turned around. Attempting to stop him, I said, “Can I play too?”

The boy hesitated for a brief moment and said, “Try getting a little bigger first,” before jogging away.

Click here for recommended listening.

It might not have been kind, but I finally felt noticed. I kept my gaze locked on the boy as he continued to jog back to his friends.

“One day,” I thought. “I’ll be on the other side of this fence.” With renewed determination, I began to exercise and practice on my own in the coming months. I didn’t know what I was doing, but I was certainly having fun. I had no other friends who were interested in baseball, so I did my best to practice all on my own.

I wanted to show the boy that I had been practicing, so I saved up my allowance to buy a brand-new glove and baseball. After weeks of saving, I brought my shiny new gear in my backpack.

With just my luck, the ball hit the fence again. I felt more nervous than before for some reason. Once again, it was the same disinterested outfielder. When he got near the fence, he seemed to notice me this time. Even still, that seemed all the more reason for him to hurry to get back.

He retrieved the ball so quickly that I had to shout to get him to not dash away.

“Wait!” I began to pull things out of my bag. The baseball rolled onto the sidewalk, as I awkwardly held my glove up high. “I’ve been practicing!”

“…with who?” he quickly replied.

I was so shocked that he responded with a question I almost didn’t know what to say.

“Well, no one really. I was hoping I could practice with you and your friends.”

“We only play with the best in town,” the outfielder said. “Find some friends and practice some more.”

I had no response this time and felt pretty dejected. “Find some friends?” I thought. “I was hoping that I could just practice with you, on the other side of this fence.” It wasn’t that I didn’t have friends, but none of my friends were interested in baseball.

Even though I didn’t know any baseball players, some of my friends had adjacent interests. I assembled my friend from track, my friend from football, and my friend from hockey. I said to them, “Would you like to practice baseball with me? I’m sure by practicing with me you could get better at your own sports.”

It took some convincing, but surprisingly, they agreed.

We began to meet regularly, whenever we had time. We would practice together and keep each other sharp. I would’ve loved to meet more often, but I was grateful for the time that I got with them.

One day after our practice, we all took the same walk home. We passed by the same fence where the boys normally played. We all stopped and looked off in the distance of the boys playing.

Just on schedule, crack! Another ball hit the fence.

The same outfielder looked surprised when he saw us.

“We’ve been practicing! I said. Maybe we could play together sometime?”

The boy paused for a moment. He looked like he recognized my friends.

“Why would a runner, football player, and hockey player want to play baseball? Like I said, we only play with the best in town.”

Shocked, none of us had a response. After all, he was older than us. My friends seemed especially dejected.

I tried to reassure them, “I’m sure they’ll let us play with them one day.”

The runner replied, “Why would we want to play with them?”

The football player added, “They seem kind of mean, and we’re having plenty of fun by ourselves.”

The hockey player appended, “We could just find other people in town to play with.”

I didn’t have the courage to speak out loud, so I whispered to myself, “…but they’re the best.”

Years rolled by. We continued to practice, definitely making progress, but doing a lot of guesswork on the way. We never had a chance to play with those boys, so we never got to feel the pressure of a “real” game. That being said, everyone developed a more serious interest in baseball over those years.

My friends and I were chatting away while we walked down that very same sidewalk. Once again, the sound of a divine encounter swept over us. The outfielder immediately recognized us today, but just like every other time, he didn’t look like he wanted to talk. He looked even bigger and stronger than the last time we met.

As he reached for the ball, I interjected, “We’ve practiced a lot these past years. We’ve been working really hard. Do you think we can play sometime?”

The boy sighed, “So have we. We’re all still older and bigger than you. The gap hasn’t gotten any smaller.”

As the boy prepared to leave, I felt my blood boil. Out of desperation, I yelled, “We belong on the other side of this fence! I don’t know how to explain it, but I know we belong.”

The boy began to run off.

I continued shouting with tears in my eyes, “One day, we’ll see you on the other side of this fence. And we’ll be equals!”