York County is country.  Farms and fields, acre after acre.  Woods and animals, mile after mile…

Practice went well and the whole team was pumped for the game the following afternoon.  I loaded up the van with our gear: bats, balls, gloves, helmets.  Half the team depended on me for a ride to the games.  Anything smaller than a van wasn’t going to get us to the ball field.

It was getting dark after dropping off my team mates.  I was exhausted after a long day of classes, followed by practice, followed by delivering my girls to their homes.  Calculus was on my brain, calculating how long it would take to do my homework after a hot, relaxing shower.  The showering thoughts made me sigh.

He came out of nowhere.  My mind was still lingering on the shower when the white of his chest caught my eye, just not quickly enough.  I slammed on the brakes.  They squealed loud, the rear of the van began to fish-tail.  The impact slowed my momentum but sped up my heart rate.

I put the van in park to see how much damage he did.  The front passenger side was crushed.  Headlight obliterated, turn signal broken and hanging from various wires.  Damn it!  I walked around to the side and realized the door was also crushed.  Fucking deer.  Must have swung around to do double damage, just my luck.

It was completely dark now and I only had one headlight.  I glanced over at the fucking buck, my guts twisting when I realized he wasn’t dead.  All that damage to my van and the son of a bitch is still kicking two of his four legs.  One was missing completely and the other bent at an unnatural angle.  This didn’t stop him from attempting to get up.  His struggling, snorting and blood coming from various injuries should have evoked sympathy for the white-tail.  It didn’t.

I walked to the back of my van and opened one of the double doors.  I pulled out the team’s equipment bag and dragged it around to the front.  Two solid swings and his escape attempts ceased.

“You’re outta here!” I yelled, to no one in particular.