Page 13 of The Scout

My life.

“I’d like to thank everyone once again for this honor. Now it’s time for us old men to play some baseball.” He looked at the team. “What do you say, fellas? You ready?”

Jimmy and his teammates roared to life. Unshed emotion formed in the back of my eyes, creating an unwanted pressure. Grounding myself, I once again searched for my son, who suddenly had his game face on.

A few minutes after the senior chorus sang the anthem, Jimmy was on the mound, warming up. This game meant so much to him. He walked the first batter, then settled into his stride, striking out the next and forcing the third to pop up. Naturally, the cleanup batter was Cash. He stepped into the batter’s box, and everyone cheered louder for Jimmy, thank God.

The smirk on Cash’s face as he got into position had me believing he was glad the fans were on the kids’ side. Cash took the first pitch, a ball. Then a strike on the inside corner. For some reason, after that pitch, he stepped back and gave Jimmy a bright smile, tapping the tip of his bat on the plate before getting into position. Jimmy nodded at the catcher, went into his stance, and fired a pitch that Cash smashed toward the outfield fence. Everyone stood, and thankfully it went foul.

Letting out a collective breath, everyone sat back down. Jimmy wiped his hand down his pant leg and squared up to the plate. He gave the runner a quick look before releasing his best pitch, a curveball. Cash swung, missing it completely. We all flew to our feet, this time cheering for our kids.

Jimmy glanced at Cash, who winked at my son—our son—and my eyes couldn’t help but fill with tears.

“That was amazing,” Mia said, giving me a hug. “Jimmyis amazing.”

“Yes, he is.”

The entire afternoon became a battle between the teams. The score was tied in the bottom of the sixth with two outs and a man on first and third. My eyes locked on the player who had just stepped into the batter’s box. It amazed me how my son could be so calm, cool, and collected in these situations when my heart felt as though it were about to leap onto the nice old man sitting in front of me, Mr. Strickle, who was the grandfather of Max, now on third base.

“You’ve got this, Jimmy!” one of his teammates shouted from the dugout while the others hooted and hollered similar sentiments.

The first base coach clapped three times before tapping his left shoulder with his index finger. I scooted toward the end of the wood bleacher, clasping my hands together. “Come on, come on!”

Mia reassured me by saying, “If anyone can do it, Jimmy can. He’s one of the best on the team.”

I’d heard others claim that, too, but that still didn’t calm my nerves. A lump formed in my throat as Cash went into his windup and released the ball, only for the umpire to yell, “Strike!”

Mr. Strickle shouted, “Knock it out of the park!”

All Jimmy needed was a base hit.Don’t be greedy,I thought to myself. I cupped my hands around my mouth and shouted, “You’ve got this, kid!”

Cash looked up into the stands with wide eyes.Shit.I sank into my seat.Did he see me?

“Hannah, what are you doing?”

Peeking through Mr. Strickle and the guy next to him, I saw Cash getting ready to pitch. Sitting straighter, I didn’t bother answering Mia, focused instead on my son. Jimmy dug his back foot into the dirt, positioning himself in the batter’s box. The barrel of the bat made a small circle above his head, something Jimmy had been doing since Little League. It meant he was ready to swing for the fences. The runners took their leads, his coach clapped his hands again, and Cash released the ball. Jimmy shifted his weight back. Then, surprising everyone, he leveled his bat and laid down the perfect bunt.

We all jumped to our feet, watching the stitched ball make its way down the third base line. “Stay fair, stay fair,” I whisper-shouted.

Jimmy’s teammate Max teased the catcher while Jimmy sprinted toward first. With his bare hand, the third baseman snatched the ball, gave Max one more quick look, then threw to first, only to have it bounce short in the dirt and miss the glove of the first baseman. Max raced toward home plate to score the winning run.

The already-standing crowd cheered as loud as I’d ever heard them for our kids. Mia and I hugged each other, hopping up and down as best as we could in the small space. Mr. Strickle turned and gave me a thumbs-up.

The kids lined up to acknowledge the alumni. Both Jimmy and Cash were last in line. They shook hands, exchanged words, and then Jimmy pointed in my direction. I instantly turned and hugged Mia once more as a shield, whispering in her ear, “We need to leave. I’m not ready to see him yet.”

Her chin rubbed against my shoulder as she nodded. With my head down, I followed Mia out of our row, down the couple of steps, and through the small crowd that no doubt waited for Cash to come out.

Once we were safely in my car, I sent Jimmy a text.

Great game. You’re amazing. Hey, I had to run an errand. See you at home. We’ll go out and celebrate.

He didn’t text me until I was pulling into Mia’s driveway a few minutes from my house.

Jimmy:I wish you were here. You’re never going to believe what happened. I’ll see you soon. Cash is amazing. Best guy ever.

All the blood drained from my face. “Hannah? Are you okay?”

I showed her my phone, and she sighed. “Would you like me to come over?”

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