Thick raindrops pounded the gravel parking lot when he pulled into West Lake High. He could see the kids running laps, the lights shining down on the bases making the dirt look orange. He trudged over the gravel and moved around the fence to where he saw the coach and his assistant watching the boys run. The wind was picking up so they didn’t hear Ryan’s approach.
“Hey there,” Ryan called out. Both men looked over. The coach, who was wearing a cap that said “coach” across the brim, was heavy enough that Ryan didn’t think he joined the boys during workout sessions. The other guy was long and thin, like a twig, his ears jutting out of his head and his messy hair hanging in his eyes. Probably in his twenties, he didn’t look like he was a player.
“Closed practice,” Coach said. Ryan kept walking until he was standing in front of them, the overhang of the dugout protecting them from the rain.
“I just came to talk to you about—”.
“Holy hell on a stick. Ryan Walker,” Coach beamed, grabbing Ryan’s hand in his meaty ones and shaking his entire arm.
“Yes. Nice to meet you…”
“Graham. Graham Marsh. Coach. Stuart, you know who this is?”
“Uh—Ryan Walker?”
Coach gave Stuart at disgusted look, shook his head, and smirked at Ryan.
“Youth. If it isn’t in a video game, they’re oblivious,” Graham said, finally releasing Ryan’s hand. Ryan looked at both men. Stuart didn’t look very impressed at the coach’s words.
“Can I bring the guys in, Coach?” Stuart asked, his eyes still on Ryan. Coach Marsh nodded and Stuart left, blew a whistle, called the boys in, and led them toward the school.
“You guys aren’t practicing outside,” Ryan stated, hoping that the coach was smarter than that. He didn’t see any equipment outside though so the boys were likely just doing some conditioning. He couldn’t see much of them as they shuffled into the open gym doors, dripping, caps pulled down tight.
“Nah. Buggers back talk me, they run. Youth have no respect these days,” Marsh said. Ryan felt a slow simmer of irritation rise and tried to ignore it.
“It can be a long day, juggling school, practice, and all the rest of it,” Ryan said neutrally. He didn’t miss those days. For him, the rest of it included pulling his piece of shit father off of his mother or looking for him when he’d gone on a bender. Ryan had hated the small piece of himself that always wished he’d never find him. That his dad would just disappear and take the stress out of his life.
“I’d trade their long days with my life any time. Kids got it too easy these days. Anyway, Mr. Walker, what can I do for you? Let’s get out of this rain,” Marsh said, placing a hand on Ryan’s shoulder as they walked to the gym.
“Ryan. I came to talk to you about a player. Carter Wells. He enrolled in distance education so that he could play on the team. He’s in grade eleven and was hoping to play for the last two years of school. He’s good.”
“I know who he is. Didn’t realize you knew him. Told him earlier this week that if he isn’t living in catchment, nothing I can do. Once you do one a favor, they all want one. I’m sure a superstar like you knows that.”
A headache began to creep up Ryan’s neck, settling in the base. The gym was bright and the boys had moved to different stations, most in their T-shirts and shorts. Their wet over clothes littered the gym as they worked in small groups, some batting, some catching, and some pitching.
“The thing is, he’ll be back in this catchment soon enough. I’ll vouch for him,” Ryan said, watching the pitcher. The kid wasn’t squaring up. He needed to follow through, all the way across his body. Still, the ball sailed and the bat connected with a satisfying smack. Ryan felt like Pavlov’s dog with that sound. It made him want a bat in his hands. The catcher bounced on the balls of his feet, crouched and ready, caught it with another thwack, this time in the glove, then sent it back to the pitcher. Back and forth, a perfect line, Ryan thought.
“You can guarantee that?” Coach Marsh asked, his wide face not masking his doubt. Ryan couldn’t guarantee anything but he was going to work like hell to make it happen. There hadn’t been anything in his life that he couldn’t make work when he’d put his full weight behind it. Except his marriage. But he was beginning to realize that maybe he hadn’t been all in. He’d left a little of himself in reserve, just in case things went south. Because maybe he’d always expected them to.
“I can.”
“So I let him on the team, then what?” Marsh was looking at him now. His bushy eyebrows rose, bobbing up and down in some sort of weird-ass S.O.S.
“Then you get an excellent athlete. Your batter isn’t twisting his hips properly. If you want him to have any power behind that swing, you need to teach him how to hit,” Ryan said, unable to not comment and correct.
“These athletes sure could use some new outfits. School is doing all sorts of cutbacks. Small town, not the biggest priority in the area,” Marsh said. Ryan looked at him, pleased to see his eyebrows had stopped moving.
“I won’t buy Carter’s place on this team. He’s a good player. He’ll make your team better,” Ryan said stiffly. God he hated the politics…of everything. Coach Marsh patted his shoulder, his face showing mock horror.
“Of course not! I would never dream of that. I’m just making conversation and telling you, a well-known, successful athlete, that these boys sure could use more. In addition to a talented teammate.”
Ryan shook his head and wondered if Marsh saw that most of his batters stepped in the bucket. They needed to take smaller steps toward the pitcher. He looked over at the coach and saw that the man was only observing Ryan. He knew how to play more than baseball.
“I suppose donations are accepted from new community members?” Ryan asked. Coach’s face broke into a wide, gummy smile.
“They sure are.”
“Fine. Carter will be at the next practice.”
“Shame we don’t have enough assistants. We could have us a real good team come spring if we had more. Especially, say, if one of those assistants knew the game inside and out.”
Ryan’s jaw tightened. He’d promised himself he wouldn’t fall into anymore traps, get caught up in anything sports related that didn’t suit him, didn’t make him happy. He was done doing things for others. But, that had been before he’d met Frankie. The boys. They did make him happy, even if he wanted to wipe the smile off Marsh’s face. And aside from all the shit that had gone down, Ryan loved baseball. He loved watching it, being near it, playing it. He loved the pureness of it. And he wanted Carter to have that too. So he nodded.
“I’ll help out one day a week.” He started walking away, worried he might be tempted to see if the fat coach’s face fit in the palm of a glove. Unlikely. Coach called after Ryan as he stepped into the driving rain, pulling his jacket tight around him. “Looking forward to it, Ryan Walker! Looking mighty forward to it.”
That made one of them.