“Coach?”
A small voice distracted me. Big Al frowned at me and puffed out his chest.Aw, hell. Kid wants to play.“Yeah, Big Al?”
“I know we aren’t supposed to talk about playing time. But I want to work on my weak areas. My mom said I can stay after, if you can. If you can’t, I understand. You’re busy.” He kicked dirt around and a sour taste entered my throat. I couldn’t describe why I had a tug at my heart, but I did.Weak areas?God.
“Sure. We can work on some grounders. Your speed is something we can fix.”
“Okay.” He grinned and ran over to Fiona. She was about the same height as the kid and they shared a co-conspirator smile.What are they up to?
The rest of the game remained uneventful, which was good for our first game. We won by a margin of two runs and our pitcher, Kit, earned a win. It was all cheering and smiles after we shook hands with the opposing team. “Sprint to left field. Now. Last one there picks up trash!”
All fifteen kids took off and I fought a grin. I missed when guys had that zest for the game. Like it was the best part of their day and their entire decisions were based on the sport. A wave of nostalgia hit me. I used to be like that. My dad and I would pack a cooler with food for days at a time, and drive hours to different fields. We rocked out to Van Halen and talked strategy. My stomach lurched at the fond memory.
“Guess who’s picking up trash?” Fiona hollered at me, pulling me from my momentary trip down Memory Lane. I didn’t have time to react before she took off sprinting faster than I would’ve imagined to left field. She rolled onto the grass, the guys all cheering “CFD!”
I got to the grass and every single one of their hands pointed at me. “What?”
“You’re last to the field. You have to pick up trash.” Tayler stood and nodded at the rest of his teammates. “It’s only fair.”
I narrowed my eyes. I gave them my scariest look I saved for game time, but they didn’t flinch.God, teenagers are weird.“Fair enough. I will today. But next time, we’ll see who’s last.”
They snickered and Fiona joined me at the front. I wanted to flip her off, but the damn kids would see. I filed away the memory to seek revenge on her. Soon. “CFD. What are the positives from today’s game?”
“Well, Coach Titan, let’s give it up for the bats coming alive!” She clapped so loud, the ring echoed. The kids ate it up and whooped and howled.
“Yeah!
“Heck yeah!”
“One and zero! One and zero!”
“Okay. Yes. Offense was fantastic. What else?” I pointed to Jared, the left fielder. He shrugged and nodded toward Kit.
“Kit threw a hell of a game. Shout out to him.”
The team all hit him on the back and he beamed. Fiona ran through a list of cons and what we could work on in pregame the next day and everyone agreed we had to focus on not throwing the ball around when the play was dead.
If we didn’t get the original out, there was no sense tossing it around like a tee ball team. Tayler got to call out the end of the game cheer and belted out an “Undefeated” before dismissing for the night. I succumbed to the fact that I had to pick up the trash. It irked me. The players should do it—but I would set an example.
“Excuse me, gentlemen. Rule number one of not being a crappy person. Listen up.” Fiona’s tone was unlike one I had heard. It had a zap to it and I tensed in response. “All of you are going to pick up trash today. I am not your mother and Titan is certainly not your father. You will pick up and every piece that is left over is one gasser after the game tomorrow. Do you understand?”
Some mumbled, others gave a mere nod. It was the first sign of disrespect and I fumed. “Excuse me? Answer your coach. Do you understand?”
“Yes, sir.” More of them mumbled and hustled over to the dugout. I caught up to Fiona in two strides and tried to give her a reassuring look. But she didn’t appear to be upset.
“You okay?”
“Yeah. Why wouldn’t I be? We won.” She quirked her lips and I wanted to bite the hell out of them.Bruise them. Mark them as mine.But I did none of those things. “Don’t let the kids get you all worked up. They’re teenagers.”
“They didn’t respond to you.”
“That’s fine. I’ll count the pieces of trash and they’ll run. The first time is the worst. After that it won’t happen again.” She bent down and crumbled up an old sunflower seed wrapper. “Trust me. I’m right about some things, you know.”
I scoffed and found trash to busy myself with. There were water bottles, protein wrappers and leftover tape from the bat all over the dirt. I couldn’t imagine what a mess we made at the stadium. I’d always assumed there was a cleaning crew. But coaching? I hadn’t seen this side of it in a good while. My conscience wasn’t happy with itself. Each piece of trash felt like a regret I had.
Why did I blow up at a teammate over an error?
Why did I dive for a ball and fuck up my career?
