[ CW ] In an alternate universe , everything is identical to our world except for one little thing- getting a third foul ball in baseball is treated the same as the third strike . Write a story that takes place in this world , but has nothing to do with baseball .

Although the crowd around him rose and fell in an uneven rhythm Anthony stood, rooted with his eyes on the screen. The final game of the series played on a multitude of monitors with the volume high allowing the conversation of the commentators to float over the din of the bar. 
 
 `` You know he's feeling the pressure here Jim'' called the announcer. `` Bottom of the ninth with one strike and two foul balls. He needs two runs to pull into the lead or the Cubs grab their first world series win in well over a hundred years.'' 
 
 Anthony's first encounter playing the game of chance had been as a teenager at a small, run down gas station in his home town of Burnsville, North Carolina. Almost as an after-thought he had thrown a crumpled dollar on the counter and asked for a scratch off lotto ticket to accompany his tank of gas. Back in the car he had rubbed the adhesive off to reveal a 500 dollar winner. More money than he had ever seen at the time. 
 
 He though back to the adrenaline rush, the sheer, unadulterated joy that accompanied such a prize. From that moment the sickness had him. He began slowly at first. Ten dollar buy in games of texas hold em with his friends. Then he had moved to other ploys, larger pots, new games. Anthony quickly learned that almost anything could be made into a bet. He was ever seeking the rush, the elation that came with the quick cash. But it had been such a long time since his habit had paid off. 
 
 `` Strike two!'' called the umpire as the ball thudded into the catchers mitt. 
 The batter straightened and backed out of the box to compose himself. 
 `` Yah know John, nobody ever expected the Red Sox to be in this position'' called the announcer. `` They have far and away been the dominant force leading up to this game.'' `` Absolutely Jim, what we may be witnessing here is baseball, nay, sports history. If the Cubs manage to pull this off it may easily be considered one of the greatest upsets of all time.'' 
 
 His foray into betting on sport had begun with horse racing but he had always considered that such a random event. He never did understand it very well and his success, when it came, was pure luck. Baseball had always been Anthony's game. He had watched it all his life beginning with his fathers fervent cheers for the Braves. He knew the game, its players and their every nuance. For months his life had been leading to this moment. This was his chance to clear the slate. To stop the threats, the beatings. He had gone for the sure thing. He knew this game, he had known the outcome before he had even laid the bet. This was his chance. 
 
 CRACK! The ball sailed high into the air and with it sailed Anthony's heart. Unconsciously he was holding his breath, every muscle tightened in anticipation. The runners on second and third took off towards home in a dead sprint as the ball streaked over first base, still rising. It reached the peak of its mighty arc and then, almost sluggishly, began to fall back towards the earth. `` No'' he whispered to himself as the ball soared inches to the right of the foul post. 
 
 The bar had erupted into a cacophony of screaming. Fans jumping over themselves throwing beer into the air in excitement. Anthony heard none of this. His vision tightened to a tight tunnel as he pushed his way out of the bar. He began walking, aimlessly making his way through the city. He made his way into a deserted alley way and slumped heavily against the rough brick of the building. Still in a daze, Anthony pulled the gun out of his pocket, put it in his mouth, and pulled the trigger. 
 
 His sickness had taken him.
