Page 71 of Mom Ball

A tall, slim guy comes to the window. “What you need?”

“Popcorn and a Coke, please.”

“What kind of drink?”

I’ve traveled and spent so much time in bigger cities that I forget “Coke” is the small-town equivalent to “drink.”

“An actual Coke is good, or Mountain Dew, if y’all have it.”

Slim lifts his chin. “Four dollars.”

I pay him and wait as he slowly pours a bag of popcorn and retrieves my drink. He gives me a Gatorade even though I saw at least five types of soft drinks.

I decide it’s not worth correcting him and go find a seat near the dugout.

Aniston holds up a bag of mixed candy. Jack and Charlie jump for it, and she stretches farther. “You have to do something good to get candy.”

A kid in a Mud Cats jersey runs by and stops at our dugout. “Can I have candy?”

“You’re not on our team.” Aniston scowls.

“Booger, get over here. You’ve had plenty of time to pee!” a man yells from the visitors’ side.

The boy jerks his head that direction, then runs.

Aniston studies the back of his jersey. “Booger. That gives me one name I needed.” She makes a note on the lineup. “No wonder Maribelle quit after one game.”

Once Booger is in place, the first batter lines up.

I thought Jeffrey was the most entertaining coach to watch. Well, this Mud Cats guy may have him beat. He doesn’t wind up like Jeffrey, but after every pitch, he calls out the count. Loudly.

Some of these kids look like a deer in the headlights. Others get frustrated. It only takes four batters to get three strikeouts.

I’m glad I bought popcorn.

Carter is our first batter. He gets a double off an error. We all clap, and the kids cheer. The next kid strikes out, then Timothy gets a double and hits Carter home.

I don’t think I could be any prouder if he were my own son. He smiles at me from second, and I give him a thumbs-up.

Unfortunately, they tag him at home.

We manage to get in two runs in the first inning. The next inning they score one. A bigger kid nails the ball on the first pitch. I guess he didn’t want to wait to hear the count.

I wouldn’t.

Our kids score one in the second inning. Then the other team scores one, but Timothy catches a fly ball for the third out. This kid is on fire today.

The boys celebrate when they get in the dugout. Morgan gives them a quick speech about how they’re only a point ahead and we need to hold them.

Booger is up to bat. He steps toward the plate and bends at the waist. Everyone groans as he spills his guts on the plate.

Bradley waits until he’s done, then brushes the base. I’m a little squeamish already, and when the kid throws up a second time, I turn my head.

The coach talks to Bradley, and Booger goes back to the dugout. Bradley calls the kid on deck to the plate, but he’s against the fence holding his stomach.

Bradley calls time. He and the head coach go to the Mud Cats’ dugout. From what I can see, most of the kids are bowed over or holding their mouths.

Some kind of virus must be going around.

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