My knees felt full of gravel as I dove for the line drive in the gap I'd left between me and first base. I threw my gloved hand across my body as hard as I could, feeling the ligaments of my arm and shoulders stretching, hearing the creaking and popping of my knees, inhaling coppery dust, reaching reaching reaching for the ball, and somehow I managed to snag it in my threadbare glove.

It went into my glove without a sound, not even a tiny pop, and the power behind the hit ball spun me twice around in a mad counter-clockwise circle until I ended up on my rear end.

I was sitting in the dust of the infield, knees screaming in pain, but I still had the game-winning catch clenched tight in my stinging hand.

-- From chapter 7 of The All Nations Team