Jim surprises Dick when he says he’ll play on the team with Dick as the manager. Dick had been certain his son would be the first one to quit. Amazingly, all twelve players show up for practice . . . and so does Andy Simms.
Dick’s setting cones in the outfield for a drill when Andy walks up. “Afternoon, Dick,” he says. “Looks like I’m going to need you on the field after all.” He gives a my-bad shrug. “So I’ll handle the practices and give you the game plan, and you can run it at the games.” Without waiting for a response, he strides toward the players who are stretching near the dugout.
Dick sets down the last cone and hurries after him.
“Huddle up,” Andy says.
Jim glances at Dick, shakes his head, then shuffles toward the parking lot. The other boys form a loose circle around Andy.
“Jim, wait,” Dick says, and Jim stops but doesn’t turn.
Dick’s voice cracks as he says, “Andy, a moment please.”
Andy glances up from where he’s on a knee talking to the boys, and for a brief, terrifying second, Dick thinks he might ignore him. “Dick, we’re kind of busy here.”
The players stare, everyone except Chase, Andy’s son, who looks hard at the dirt.
Dick looks at Chase, then at Jim, then at the other boys, and the most extraordinary thing happens—rage, soft and warm like the sun, washes over him, and in a voice surprisingly calm, he says, “Andy, you need to leave.”
Andy stands, and his eyes narrow on Dick’s.
“Practice ends in an hour,” Dick says. “You can pick Chase up then.”
“You’re not honestly listening to those idiots on the board?” Andy says with a guffaw. “I lost my temper. I mean, hell, who doesn’t? We all get a little heated sometimes.”
Dick remains quiet, but his eyes remain steady on the bigger man’s, watching the flicker of his eyes and the thump of the artery in the side of his neck, and he realizes how important this is to him.
“We’ll see you in an hour,” Dick says.
Andy’s fists ball. “Are you kidding? After all the time I’ve put into this team!” He steps close and glowers, but Dick doesn’t move. “This team needs me! Without me, these boys can’t find their flies.”
A dozen retaliations play in Dick’s mind, but he says nothing. There’s no need; eleven faces, including Andy’s son’s, have turned dark.
“Fine. See how you do without me.” He storms off the field, passing Jim, who is returning to join the team.