My 7-year-old son Ben’s Little League baseball team sat in last with a record of 1-6.  I had managed them to six straight defeats.   Last place.  Last place by plenty.  We try not to emphasize winning, but the losing was becoming painful.

At lunch, I contemplated our evening’s game.  For some reason, I had a good feeling.  A feeling like we had a chance to win.

I arrived at the game upbeat and the unlikely happened.  We held a lead for much of the game.  Into the bottom of the sixth (the final inning) we marched and we actually clung to a two run lead.  I called the team into the dugout and encouraged them to make just three more outs.  We could do it, I knew we could.

Then I made the controversial move of the night and shifted a new player to first.  A defensive replacement.  An unpopular move with the kids, but victory was so close.  We could do it.

Then the wheels started to come off.  An infield hit there.  An error there.  Before long, the bases were loaded with two outs.  The winning run was on first.  It would be close.

The pitch.  An infield dribbler.  The first baseman defensive replacement raced for the ball.  He scooped it up.  The runner sprinted down the line.  The first baseman ran toward first.  Out by a step!  We had won.  Finally.  The defensive move had paid off.  Victory at long last.

The team packed up and left.  Smiles all around.  I walked around the empty field one last time with my son.  We scanned the ground for any lost equipment, as our shoes crunched on the infield dirt.

I don’t know how much longer I have in life, but I do know that I had been given a moment to treasure.  A moment to savor.  That’s when one final blessing was bestowed.  The Universe’s way of smiling.  The sound of an ice cream truck headed our way.  Perfection on a summer night.  The way life was meant to be.

Ben and his ice cream treat.  The perfect match and a perfect ending.  The Universe smiled.