By John Krull
TheStatehouseFile.com 

INDIANAPOLIS – The opening notes of the national anthem play over the sound system.

The home team baseball players, my son among them, stand at attention in groups of three, their caps at their feet, their hands clasped behind their back. The visiting team stands along the first base line, their caps at their feet, too.

The music ends. It’s time to play ball.

It’s the opening of baseball sectionals. My son’s northside Indianapolis high school plays a rural school from West Central Indiana.

City kids versus farm boys.

One of the fundamental divides in Indiana.

And America.

The visitors score two runs in the top of the first inning to grab an early lead. My son’s team can’t answer in the bottom of the first.

The other team’s pitcher is good. He throws hard and has a tricky delivery. When he releases the ball, he does so with a snake-like leg kick that makes it hard for hitters to time when the pitch will cross the plate. He’s also just wild enough that the batters don’t want to dig in.

Our pitcher finds his groove in the second inning. The game settles into a rhythm. Both teams are well-coached. They don’t make mistakes.

It becomes clear that runs, even hits, will be hard to come by. This one will be a dog fight, a hard-fought contest that will go down to the last out.

So, the squads settle into a battle of attrition. Hitters stretch out at-bats and work to run up pitch counts.

As the tension mounts, the parents, grandparents, siblings and friends – all helpless to affect the outcome from the stands – do what they always do in these situations.

Yell at the umpire.

He’s a pitcher’s ump. He’s got a generous outside corner, but it’s equally generous for both pitchers and teams.

That means the fans of the team batting scream protests and those of the team pitching applaud when he makes his calls. No spring chicken, he ignores the noise with aplomb.

Our team claws its way back into the game. We scratch out one run, then another.

The game is tied, 2-2, as the regulation seven innings come to an end.

The teams play on, through an eighth inning, then a ninth.

The crowd grows louder, cheering for their boys, hurling invectives at the umpire.

We live in different places. We may believe different things. We probably don’t vote the same way.

But for the three hours this game is played we want similar things. We want the young men we love to do well.

And win this darn game.

The players rise to the challenge.

Our second baseman, right fielder and center fielder make nifty plays, knocking down or catching hard-hit balls.

Their left fielder records the game’s highlight. One of our hitters pounds the ball to deep left center. The left fielder sprints as the ball starts to sink. He dives, snares the ball, hits the ground hard, his body bouncing twice, and then hops to his feet.

With the ball still in his glove.

Everyone in the crowd applauds.

The 10^th inning comes.

Our first hitter, a fleet-footed senior scrapper, drops a surprise bunt. Their third baseman, caught off-guard, overthrows the first baseman. Our runner goes to second.

Another hitter ekes out a walk. Their pitcher hits the next batter.

The bases are loaded in the bottom of the 10^th, with only one out.

Our next batter, another senior, fakes a bunt to draw the defense in. Then, he hammers a grasscutter single through the hole between short and third.

The runner crosses the plate.

Game over.

The teams line up to shake hands.

As we leave, I run into a father from the other team. I tell him they played a great game.

“Your guys did, too,” he says. “We’ll get you next time.”

“Yeah, there’s always next year,” I say.

We smile fathers’ smiles.

Then we walk back to our cars, our homes, our families, our different ways of life.

Just another night in America.

John Krull is director of Franklin College’s Pulliam School of Journalism and publisher of TheStatehouseFile.com, a news website powered by Franklin College journalism students.

IL for www.theindianalawyer.com

First-year associates at larger firms are seeing heftier paychecks, according to a national study. But the Midwest is seeing the shorter end of that stick compared to other regions.

In its 2019 Associate Salary Survey report released Wednesday, the National Association for Law Placement found that as of Jan. 1, the overall median first-year associate salary was up nearly 15 percent. That’s $155,000, up to $20,000 from the most recent survey in 2017.

“There has been abundant news coverage of the salary hike to $190,000 for first-year salaries at many of the largest law firms, and we see that reflected in the data collected in this year’s salary survey,” NALP executive director James Leipold said in a news release. “As with other associate base pay hikes in the past, while the press focus is usually on how quickly law firms race to meet a market change like this one, the data reveals that there are in fact many large law firm offices that are still not paying $190,000 as a base first-year salary.

“These hikes often take two or more years to move through the market,” Leipold continued. “They also have the effect of driving up starting salaries in markets that have a lower base, and we see that movement in this year’s data as well.”

Results from the survey concluded the greatest salary growth was seen in the firm of at least 701 lawyers. Those median first-year base salaries increased by roughly 16 percent, bumping up from $155,000 in 2017 to $180,000 in 2019.

Many firms with more than 700 lawyers made up of numerous smaller regional offices do not pay the new benchmark first-year salary of $190,000, the study noted, and as a result, the majority of large law firm starting salaries fall below that mark.

Modest growth was seen in firm sizes ranging between 251-500 attorneys, with those first-year base salaries increasing 6.7 percent to $160,000 in 2019. Firms maintaining 51-100 lawyers, 101-250 lawyers and 501-700 lawyers saw little to no change at $115,000, $115,000 and $160,000, respectively.

Law firms consisting of more than 250 lawyers made up 70 percent of respondents, compiled from 24 major markets across the United States.