Darth Vader at the Bat [Abridged]
The outlook wasn’t brilliant for the Empire Nine that day: The score stood four to two, with but one inning more to play. Two had died before him, a hush across the stands, the entire fate of the galaxy now rest in Vader’s hands.
There was ease in Vader’s manner as he stepped into his place; there was pride in Vader’s bearing and, I’d imagine, a smile on Vader’s face. And when, responding to the cheers, he lightly doffed his helmet, no Jedi in the crowd could doubt ’twas Vader at the bat.
Let’s fast forward this story just a bit, and all eyes are on the Dark Lord as he readies for the pitch. He knows the count, despite the fraud, two strikes have past him by. Now the stakes are planetary, and still he holds his saber high. The crowd sees his eyes grow cold and stern, hear his breathing strain. They knew that Vader wouldn’t let that ball go by again.
The sneer is gone from Vader’s lip, his grill is clenched in hate; He pounds with cruel violence his red saber upon the plate. And now the pitcher holds the ball, and now he lets it go, and now the air is sliced in half, by The Force of Vader’s blow.
Oh, somewhere in this galaxy the sun is shining bright; the band is playing somewhere, and somewhere hearts are light, and somewhere men are laughing, and somewhere children shout; but there is no joy for the Empire… Mighty Vader has struck out.