When You Know, You Know

Judging by their reactions and the all around hype of it, I guessed I chose the right way to end the game, and it didn't take long for me to have the two contenders up and ready. Team one chose Andrew, our starting third baseman, and team two, to my surprise, chose James, who wasn't really a power hitter, but more of a find the hole in the infield kind of hitter.

Andrews first swing was a swing and miss, generating a swell of laughter from everyone, even himself, since it was plainly obvious he was swinging for the fences, not just to make solid contact. His second one went to straight away left, a pull shot, and landed about thirty feet from the fence, rolling within five or ten feet.

As it was such a good hit, his team figured they had it in the bag and were cheering him on for his third hit, chanting for him to just hit one out and be done with it. His third swing was sent to the opposite field, though not quite as far, leaving his second shot as the mark to beat for James.

James' first swing was a good one, but he got just a little on top of hit and hit a frozen rope to center, dying out on the grass before it got within a hundred feet of the fence. In a game, I couldn't have asked for a better hit from a player. That was a sure base hit, but in this, it didn't work.

His second swing was almost exactly the same, traveling the same distance and settling about five feet to the left of his first one. That's how I knew that for the rest of this year and next year, he'd be one of our main producers with the bat. You can't complain about surefire base hits.

His team was hyping him up big time. Jumping around and chanting with that energy that all high school kids seem to have, yelling for him to crush one. If I was a betting man, I'd have bet he'd put the third one right where the first two went, and win or lose, I'd take that any day.

As it turned out, it's a good thing I'm not a betting man. His third swing went to left center, closer to center, coming off the bat high and hard. I mean, it was an absolute bomb. A nuke. A piss missile. A moon shot. Whatever you want to call it. I don't know where it came from, I didn't even know the kid had the long ball in him, but holy hell, it went.

Everyone, even the other team, went crazy before the ball even touched down. Everyone knew it was gone. When it finally landed, after what seemed like a lifetime, it was about fifty feet beyond the fence. A certified dinger.

"Told ya you were the right choice," Timmy, his teammate for the scrimmage said with a chuckle and a slap on his back.

Everyone just laughed and a few people from the losing team went out to shag the ball, the fee for losing, and then they all packed up their gear and made their way to their vehicles or their respective rides home, and started to dissipate.

I myself hung around until everyone was gone, electing to sit on the bench of the dugout I'd spent so many innings as a high schooler sitting on, just staring out at the field, lost in my own thoughts. I definitely missed being a player. But rather than angst towards my injuries, like I'd had for all this time, I felt a sense of calm wash over me.

I'd never play again, sure, but that didn't mean the game was ruined. Some people just can't understand a love for baseball. To be honest, I don't blame them. For someone who isn't playing, or someone who doesn't absolutely live and breathe the game, I could honestly see why people wouldn't like it. To me, however, I knew that from the moment I first stepped on a ball field for tee ball when I was five, I was hooked for life.

I thought back to all the good memories, and even the bad, of all the time I've spent in the game, on this field in particular. It was a labor and a lifetime of love, all wrapped into a section of land. A mixture of grass, dirt, and chalk that seemed to outline life itself, each milestone separated by ninety feet of dirt, with the happy ending right there at home plate.

"Never gets old does it?" I heard from the edge of the dugout.

"What are you still doing here?" I asked in surprise, truly thinking I was alone.

"Couldn't bring myself to leave," James laughed. "Guess I'm not the only one."

"Why not?" I asked curiously.

"That was the first one I've ever even come close to hitting one out. I feel like if I leave, then it'll fade into nothing like it never happened," he said solemnly. I knew where he was coming from.

"It'll always have happened," I shrugged, a strange sense of grown up wisdom washing over me even though I was only ten years older than him. "It's not about staying in the moment it happened, it's about always remembering that it did happen."

"Is that how you think about your career?" He asked, followed immediately by a wince. "I'm sorry if that came out insensitive."

"Nah you're good," I chuckled, surprisingly not phased by his comment. "Do I wish I was still playing? Absolutely. For me, baseball was everything, still is everything to me. Am I mad about what happened? Not anymore. Do I dwell on it and resent the fact I can't play anymore? Honestly, for a while I did, but coaching you guys has helped me get past that. Now I look back on all the fond memories I've had on a ball diamond. The countless hours I've spent in a uniform trying my best to help my team win. I look back, and I'm not upset I'm still not doing it, I'm happy and forever grateful it happened in the first place."

"Still, must be hard," he shrugged. "Having all of your dreams that close to coming true, then having them snatched away just like that."

"Hell," I sighed, surprised at his wisdom, "my dreams didn't almost come true, they DID come true. I got to play in a World Series. That's all I dreamed about as a kid."

"That ain't a bad way to look at it Coach," James grinned for a second before a glum look overtook him. "I'm just not looking forward to next year. I won't get to experience any of this anymore after next season..."

"Who says that?" I asked, surprised anyone said he couldn't make it. That's no way to talk to a kid.

"Nobody," he said. "Everyone encourages me. I just don't think I'm good enough to hit that next level."

"James you've got a talent with a bat most players would kill for," I laughed.

"Suuuuure," he drawled with a smile. "Rarely ever get the ball past the outfielders. That's some talent."

"The game ain't all home runs and glory," I laughed. "Sure that stuff is fun, but you find the holes and get base hits. That's what counts."

"Still. I gotta get better at the plate and behind it if I'm gonna make it anywhere."

"Lucky for you I was a good hitter and a really good catcher. I'll work with ya as much as you want. Sky's the limit kid." I grinned.

"You sure you aren't offering just because you like my sister?" James laughed heartily.

"Hell I'll help anyone who asks. I love the game. It's already on my mind all day, might as well help someone out with what I got up in there," I laughed before adding. "The fact that I like your sister has nothing to do with it."

"Fair enough," he chuckled. "I love this game Coach. If you're actually willing, I'll work with you whenever you want. I want to get better."

"Hell I've got some time to kill before I gotta get ready to pick up Tegan tonight. We can start now if you ain't got nowhere else to be?"

"What's first?" He asked, reaching down to open his bag back up. I truly admired his drive.

We spent until after five o'clock working on catching drills. Any drill I could ever remember doing was forming up a list in my mind, and I was having a hard time deciding what to do next. James wanted to start off in the cages, but I'd been able to convince him that his hitting was fine for now, as long as he kept doing what he was doing, and we should focus on his skills behind the dish.

We did tennis ball drills, all sorts of variations of them. We did wild pitch drills, blocking drills, and everything in between. I didn't even realize how hard I was working him until he pulled off his mask after making a great block and wiped some sweat off his brow.

"Hell I think we can call it a night. I gotta remember to tone it down. This ain't pro ball anymore, and I don't wanna work you to death." I chuckled, picking up the small bucket of balls by my feet.

"Hell I was just getting warmed up," James laughed. "Work me as hard as you think I need. You know what you're doing. You say it I do it. I already feel a thousand times more comfortable back here than I did before this."

"You're making leaps and bounds that's for sure. Good job today though. Take it easy this weekend, we'll get back to it Monday at practice."

"Thanks again Coach. It means a lot."

"Anytime Kid, anytime."

I could genuinely tell he loved the game. Truly loved it. I saw a lot of me in him. Whenever there was a chance to practice and get better, I took it. James looked like he was on that same path.

**

I had a strong feeling of satisfaction on my short drive home. Most people wouldn't want to spend that much extra time after already running a practice to stay after and practice some more, but to me, it was more enjoyable than anything else I could have been doing. It also helped that it kept my mind off my rapidly approaching date.

The nerves started to reappear as I turned off the road and into my driveway. I never dated much, if ever. I had my high school romance late my senior year, like everyone else, but we split up when I didn't follow her to college. That one tore me up pretty good, but I eventually got over it, falling in love once again in my third year in the minors.

We dated for two years, and if you'd have asked me, we were on the fast track to marriage and a family, but as it turned out, she had other plans, taking up with her ex boyfriend from back home and running off with him without so much as a goodbye to me. I didn't even know what had happened for three weeks until I ran into her best friend at a grocery store and she told me the full story. All I'd gotten from anyone else is that she said it was over and moved away. That one understandably broke me for a while.

I'd been with a few women here and there. I didn't like one night stands at all, so the handful of times I'd gotten laid outside of those two relationships was with two separate friends with benefits. The first one came before the disappearing ex. She just wanted casual and I was too focused on baseball to want anything more, so it worked out.

The second was about a year after my ex left. We'd been friends for months leading up to it. Hell she's the one who kept me sane after she left, so we naturally fell into another friends with benefits situation. She didn't want anything more than a booty call and I didn't trust women as far as I could throw them, so once again it worked out for the both of us.

I walked up the front steps and kicked my cleats off on the porch, setting my boots in their spot next to them, and carried myself and my work clothes inside and to my room, where I tossed my work clothes, as well as my baseball clothes, into the hamper in the corner and made my way into the bathroom.

Staring at myself in the mirror, I touched up my beard to make it look as good as humanly possible for Tegan, and shook my head at my reflection once I was done. I still didn't know why she'd go out with me. I knew I wasn't ugly, maybe even handsome by a lot of woman's standards, but Tegan? No way. She was so far out of my league. It's like she was playing in the MLB while I was still stuck playing coach pitch. A league of her own she was.

Shaking my head once again and grinning at myself, realizing that whatever it was, I wasn't going to complain, because I was about to take the most beautiful woman in the world out to dinner, and she seemed interested in me nonetheless, so as I turned on the shower, I mentally chalked it up as a win.

I was usually a three in one kind of guy. One squirt of soap and I was good. I thought it smelled good enough, and was easier, so that's what I did. However, I did make it a habit to have at least a set of good smelling shampoo, conditioner, and body wash, all in separate bottles, for special occasions at the very least. My ex was adamant about three separate soaps, why I have no idea. What is it with women and their soaps anyways?

Smiling to myself at the memory of her badgering me, I pulled the shampoo off the rack and went about my routine. My ex, leaving the way she did, definitely broke me for a while. Even now I wasn't one hundred percent healed, but I was getting closer and closer every day, and I had a feeling that tonight, my first actual date since all that, would help immensely, even if it went bad. I just had to cross that hump.

Once my shower was complete I dried off and checked my beard one last time before heading into the bedroom to get dressed. I pulled a clean pair of wranglers out of the drawer, along with my lucky underwear. Yes, I had lucky underwear. Baseball players are superstitious ok? I hadn't worn them since the World Series because I figured they'd been cursed, since it ended my career and all, but in the recent weeks I'd realized that it wasn't unlucky, it was a blessing that I'd even made it there.

Feeling a wave of confidence wash over me, I tossed on a white undershirt and a Pearl Snap shirt, heading over to check myself over once more in the mirror before grabbing my nice square toe boots I reserved for special occasions out of the closet and headed out to my truck, giving it a once over to ensure any garbage or clutter was removed and did a quick wipe down of the dashboard to give her a little shine.

Tegan had given me her address, and I knew it would take me about twenty five minutes to get there, and there was about forty five until I was due to pick her up, so I fired the old girl up and headed into town to stop at the Beacon and fill her up and check the wine selection.

If she chose the fire by the river option, I had a cooler in the back with a case of PBR, a case of Corona, and a bottle of Tito's and a bottle Jack I'd grabbed from the house, as well as a few cans of assorted mixers. I figured I'd grab a cheap bottle of red just in case, so I'd have all the bases covered and could give her any drink she chose instead of limiting her to Corona, even though I knew she liked it.

It might seem a little overkill, but really the only thing I didn't already have at the house, either in the barn or the house, was a bottle of wine since I didn't like it at all, I already had everything else since I seemed to always have people over so I kept the place well stocked.

I might have been over analyzing the date, trying too hard to make it perfect, but what can I say? I wanted the perfect first date for the perfect woman. Call me a romantic or call me crazy, just don't call me unprepared.

As weird as it was, I tended to work backwards when it came to nerves. The closer I got to gas station, then her house, the less nervous I became about the date. The closer I got, the more I realized that it was happening, and worrying about it wouldn't change anything.

The Beacon had a bottle of a red from a winery up in Traverse City, so I grabbed it and added it to my collection of alcohol in the truck. I was still about ten minutes away from her house, and had twenty minutes left, so I just took the long way around, aiming to kill an extra five minutes so I was only five minutes early.

The truck was filled with diesel. I had plenty of cash on me for whatever we decided to do. The Yeti was iced down. All in all, I felt good about it all. It was as good as it was going to get. Steeling myself against any last minute nerves that were hanging around, I turned off the main road and onto the gravel one that would lead me towards he house.

Everything was set and there was no turning back, not that there was any amount of money in the world that would make me turn back. The nerves had been replaced with excitement and a desire to be near her once again, and something inside of me just knew this was what I was supposed to be doing.

She must have heard me coming up the road, because as I turned down the driveway, I saw her get up off the bench on the porch and skip towards my truck as I brought it to a halt. I wasn't even within five feet of her and my heart had already stopped, my breath caught in my throat, with no words to describe the sight I saw before me.

Tegan's typical, well typical for the few times I'd seen her, boots, jeans, and t shirt had been forgone, and in their place was a white sundress with yellow flowers adorning it. It came down to a little lower than mid thigh and flowed beautifully as she pranced. Her hair had been left down, her long, wavy auburn locks bouncing prettily off her back and shoulders.

It was a scene from a movie. That woman was pure perfection. Every inch of her. She was about five feet from the truck when I shut it off and hurriedly jumped out of it to meet her before she could do something rash, like open her own door. Chivalry wasn't dead when it came to me. My mother would kill me if I let it die.

"Hi Jack!" He said cheerily, with a deathly beautiful smile, having stopped about three feet in front of me.

"Wow," was all I could manage to stammer as I dumbly stared at her. She was so beautiful. I shook it off and tried to salvage it with a smile. "Hi yourself."

"You like?" She asked with a grin as she did a little twirl, making the sundress lift slightly with the motion.

"You are undoubtedly the most beautiful thing I have ever seen in my twenty seven years on this planet", I said as sincerely as I could with a big smile.

"Awwee," she said, her smile growing even more. "You're not so bad looking yourself either Jack."

"Next to you I'm a lump of dirt," I laughed. "But I'll take the compliment."

"I mean it," she smiled. "What have you got in store for tonight?"

"That, m'lady, is a surprise," I said with a mock bow. "One I hope you'll enjoy."

"I'm certain I will." She said before gesturing towards the truck. "Shall we?"

"Is your father home?" I asked, "it doesn't feel right picking up someone's daughter for a date without meeting him first."

"Ever the gentleman aren't you?" She giggled, "no, he and Ma are out on date night themselves."

"Well, I'll get him next time," I chuckled as a gestures towards the truck. "In that case, we shall."

She started towards the truck and I took a step towards it as well, reaching up to open the door for her and offered her my hand to help her inside.

"Definitely a gentleman," she mused with a smile.

"Of course," I responded with a smile of my own.

I cranked the ole girl to life and shifted her into reverse, backing my way out of the drive and pointing the grill towards the main road, hoping she would enjoy my choice of restaurant and following activities.

We drove, but not in silence, as the conversation flowed freely, like we'd know each other for years. I was truly amazed as to how she carried herself. If she had any nervousness anywhere inside her, she didn't show it.

I seemed to learn a lot about her on that drive. I learned that she was the valedictorian of her small high school, and she genuinely enjoyed school and learning. I learned she grew up riding horses and pit bikes, truly enjoying both, and missed her horse quite a bit, as he was still up in Gaylord with her grandparents.

She poked and prodded at me as well, asking about my upbringing, my job, hobbies, and everything else under the sun. One thing she never asked about was baseball, and if she didn't ask, I wasn't going to bring it up. I was never the guy to toot my own horn about anything.

I felt that we were both immensely enjoying ourselves, and that was just the drive to the restaurant. Lucky for us, conversation over dinner is usually implied, so it meant we could keep on talking and getting to know each other.