Page 53 of Home Field Advantage
As I cross the gym, I count the number of kids who showed up. There are nine of them, and their parents, waiting to play. They are dressed in mismatched sweatpants, and most of them are either wearing superhero T-shirts or glitter.
I can’t help the smile on my face because this is exactly what I need.
Whether these kids have played before or not, I hope to provide them with an opportunity to learn the game and perhaps fall in love with it, just as I did at their age. And hell, a chance to keep myself busy enough so I’m not sitting with my racing thoughts.
A few heads turn when they spot me. Two boys I remember, Austin and Archie, are the first to jump up from their seats simultaneously, their eyes lighting up.
“Is this really happening?” Archie asks.
I nod. “It’s really happening. Are you ready?”
“I was born ready!” He leaps in the air, picking his glove up off the ground. “Where do we start? When do we play at the barnyard? Can I pitch?”
“I want to catch,” Austin adds.
“I’m a killer outfielder,” another girl adds.
I laugh. “Whoa there, we have a few things to do first before we get started.”
“Fine,” Archie grumbles.
“I think the first order of business is getting to know each other, and then from there we can start with the basics to see what we need to work on for future practices. To start, my name is Dallas.”
“Westbrook,” Archie adds for me. “I knew you looked familiar that day I saw you on Main Street. But I couldn’t figure it out then.”
“Are you famous?” a girl who looks to be a little older than Sage asks.
Archie looks at her. “He’s the head coach for the Staghorns.TheDallas Westbrook.”
“You know your baseball.”
“I live and breathe baseball,” he emphasizes. “I’ve been following you since you were drafted as a starting pitcher. I want to be a pitcher just like you when I grow up.”
And that right there is confirmation that this is what I need to be doing.
I didn’t understand it a few minutes ago before walking in here. I wasn’t supposed to be standing here with a clipboard in my hand and coaching a group of kids when I could barely coach adults to win a game to put us in the playoffs.
But I said yes—the way I always do. Too fast. Too eager.
Just another impulsive Dallas Westbrook moment I can add to my list.
But his response makes me feel like, for once, I’ve made the right decision.
I get the chance to be a part of this kid’s future when it comes to baseball. Hopefully, be someone who can help him learn the game and new skills the same way Clark taught me all those years ago.
“I was so sad when I learned you retired early from your injury,” he continues. “Are you okay now? To coach us and all?”
I nod. “I’m ready,” I offer the best answer I can. I’m not ready to bring up the pain of losing my ability to play to a group of kids.
A young boy with his hat backward raises his hand. “Is this the real sport? Or is this more like gym class? Because I’m only here for the snacks.”
“Or is this like that time I joined the cookie seller club and never got a sash?” a girl with glittery shoes asks.
I clear my throat. “It’s as real as it gets, kid.”
“I’m Tucker,” he says at my side. “You can all call me Tuck. I’m going to be assisting coach here.”
I give him a side eye because we never agreed to that.
