The next morning, Danny pedaled his bike across town. The team had the day off. He planned to spend it with his dad.
Even though Danny was happy to get a break from the baseball field, a different sort of problem lay ahead of him. Danny’s mom and dad had gotten divorced a few months earlier. And lately nothing had been easy between Danny and his dad. Every minute they spent together was awkward.
Danny pulled up to the two-story apartment building and locked his bike to the fence. The brick building was old. The bushes near the walls were overgrown and needed to be trimmed.
He entered the building and met his dad outside his apartment door. The two of them hugged. “It’s good to see you, kiddo,” said his dad. “Come on in.”
The apartment was small, and it smelled a little like old socks. But Danny wanted to be upbeat. “Nice place,” he said.
“Thanks,” said Dad. “I was hoping you would like it. There’s a pool, too. And even a basketball court. We can shoot some hoops later.”
“Cool,” said Danny. He set his bag on the floor and sat down on the sofa. “The furniture’s nice,” he said.
Dad laughed. “I like it,” he said. “But I’m not sure all the pieces match. Your mom was always the one with the style in our house.” He paused. “Speaking of your mom, how is she?”
“She’s good,” said Danny.
Dad sat down in a chair across from him. “And how are you?” he asked. He leaned forward. “Are you still seeing that counselor at school?”
“I’m fine,” said Danny. He squirmed in his chair. There were several seconds of silence. Finally, Danny looked at his dad and gave him a weak smile. “Can we talk about something else?” Danny asked.
“I’m sorry,” said Dad. He got up from his chair. “You just got here. I shouldn’t be asking you so many questions.”
His dad went into the kitchen and came back with two cans of soda. “What should we talk about?” Dad asked.
Danny opened his can and took a long drink. “I have a baseball problem. Maybe you can help me with it,” he said.
“Sure,” said his dad. “What is it?”
“I’m having trouble throwing to the mound,” said Danny.
“You mean throwing back to your pitcher?” asked Dad.
“Yeah,” said Danny. “My throws are either super short or they fly off in the wrong direction. It’s driving me crazy.”
“That’s the yips,” said his dad, nodding.
“The what?” Danny asked. “Are you being serious?”
“Totally serious. The yips are when a ball player suddenly has difficulty making routine plays,” Dad said. “It happens in baseball and in golf and in all sorts of sports.”
Danny frowned. “I’ve never heard of the yips,” he said.
“It’s pretty common,” Dad said. “I bet there’s information on the Internet that could help you. Why don’t you do some research? I’ll make us some lunch.” Dad went back into the kitchen. Then he called out, “Does grilled cheese sound okay?”
“Sure,” said Danny.
Danny looked around at the tiny apartment. So much in his life had changed. He wanted his old life back. He wanted his old dad back. And he didn’t want to have the yips.