Page 34 of Double Play

“Rarely. There’s a woman who comes in once a week to give Linda a little breather. Like my grandmother, this is a lifestyle choice for her. Unfortunately, it doesn’t leave much time for a personal life. My grandmother certainly never had one.”

“We should offer to hang with the kids one night so she can go out. Maybe a date.”

“She’s, like, seventy-five.”

“So? I’m sure she’d like to meet someone.”

“It’s nice of you to offer. I’ll talk to her about it.”

We arrive at the field well ahead of gametime to get warmed up. Arizona is working with Lucinda. She’s teaching her how to throw down to second base from herknees. Lucinda is one of the best athletes on the team, so she’s picking it up quickly.

ARIZONA

Okay, this is officially fun. These kids are so eager to learn. I don’t even need the actual game. I would have been happy simply practicing with them.

When I was a teen, I helped our local Little League run clinics, but I don’t think I appreciated then how excited little kids are to learn or how rewarding it is to teach them. They’re sponges.

Layton is a mild-mannered coach. That’s not really my style, so I’m shouting instructions to everyone on the field.

He whispers, “Relax, sunshine. It’s Little League.”

My eyes widen, part in jest and part serious. “What kind of competitor are you, superstar? Now I know why you guys haven’t won any games this season. If you’re gonna play, play hard. Play to win.”

He chuckles. “Oh boy. I’ve unleashed the beast.”

I yell out, “Let’s see the heat, Randy!”

Randy enthusiastically nods and shouts back. “You got it, Coach Z.”

All the kids except Perry have hit well. I think he’s got some muscle mass issue. Or maybe his bat is too heavy. I walk over to the bats to check them out. Each kid has their own wooden bat with their names burned into it.

I hold one up and ask Layton, “Where did you get these? They’re awesome.” I run my hands along them, appreciatingthe quality craftsmanship. I know from growing up with a carpenter father that these aren’t regular bats available in stores.

“Oh…umm…I made them.”

“You’re into carpentry?”

“Just bats. I couldn’t afford them growing up and I kept breaking them, so I learned how to make them. It’s a hobby now. I still make my own bats. I make them for a few guys on the team too.”

“Did you know that my father is a carpenter? He makes furniture, not bats, but he has his own shop.”

“Quincy mentioned that once. Does he have a big shop?”

“Huge. He’s in there all day, every day.”

“I get the appeal. It’s addicting. I lose time when I’m working on a project.”

“Yep, my dad lost a lot of time in there. My mother calls it the other woman.”

He smiles. “I can see that happening.”

The game progresses, and we’re up by one run with two outs in the last inning. There’s a runner on first and the batter hits a routine flyball to right field. Perry is out there.

I shout, “Can of corn,” which means it’s a routine, easy-to-catch flyball.

Layton mumbles, “Not a can of corn for him. He’s going to miss it.”

Sure enough, he does. Shit. These poor kids were one out away from victory. Now there are runners on first and third, potentially the game-tying and winning runs.

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