Fiona nodded, taking each question in stride, but the tiniest bead of sweat formed on her forehead.Ha! Good.I wanted to see her fall on her ass. I crossed my arms and smiled real wide. She still hadn’t looked at me.
“We are pretty stacked for coaches, but if we need any I’ll be sure to reach out. We might encourage parents to be fans and support the team. As far as vacations, the season is very short and any missed opportunity can prevent time on the field.”
Shit. She had a good answer. But the parent was insistent.
“Coach Titan, you were telling me about all the uniforms and starting line-ups at breakfast this morning—care to share with the parents and players?” Fiona threw the attention my way.
That. Little. Sneak.I glanced at her and the smug grin was enough to have me almost snarl at her. “Of course.”
I walked up to stand next to her. The parents and their kids looked up at me with awe and a bubble of pride formed in my chest. I still had their respect. And that was enough for me. “Okay. Uniforms are determined by the league. We’ll be one of the national league teams. Fiona here can write down sizes for you before you leave. Playing time will be determined on strengths. This is not a rec league. It is competitive and if you want to make it big time, then you play your heart out until you earn a spot. Everything is earned.”
I paused and met all the players’ eyes before continuing. “Not one of you deserves a single playing spot. You hear? It all depends on grit. Who’s there early, who hustles the most, who stays late and who is a good teammate. There are no egos in baseball.”
Fiona snorted. “If you miss a practice, you can consider yourself out of the next game. That’s fair. And the team should be a priority. The decision about who we put on the starting line-up will be made after practices. Any more questions?”
“No, sir.” The smallest, skinniest boy stood and held out his hand. “I am excited to learn from you, Coach Titan.”
“Thanks, kid. What’s your name?”
“Allen.” He beamed. The gesture reminded me so much of Quinn I had to shake the image out of my head. This kid had guts and I appreciated it.
“Nice to meet you, Allen. Can I call you Big Al?”
“Yes, sir.”
I snuck a glance at Fiona. Her lips curved into a small smile and when her eyes met mine, there wasn’t a war brewing. No. We shared a brief moment admiring Big Al. “Are we good here?”
No one else answered and I wanted to leave, but Fiona made a noise in the back of her throat. It resembled a snort, or a cough, but then again it could’ve been a growl. It was enough to have me stopping in my tracks. “Yes?”
“There are more questions. Sometimes people like to come up individually, rather than talk in front of a group. Stay another thirty minutes.” Her dark blue eyes flashed at me and I didn’t like it one bit. Who did she think she was, bossing me around?Check again, sweetheart.
“Fiona. You have—”
“Mr. Coach Titan. I have a question.” A small, maybe six-year-old girl tugged at my shorts and I glared at Fiona before putting on a smile.
“Yes?”
“My name is Opal and I love you.”
“Yeah? That’s awful nice of you, Opal.” I bent low to be eye level with her. “Does your brother play on the team?”
“Yes. I’m watching all the games. Look for me.”
“Of course, sweetheart.” I grinned. Now she reminded me of Quinn. And, soon enough, parents and kids came up with questions.
What kind of glove should we get?
What’s the best bat?
Are batting gloves necessary or just to look cool?
Do athletes drink water or Powerade?
I answered every question and sure enough, thirty minutes went by. There was the MILF from earlier left and she was talking with Fiona. I had zero idea what those two could talk about. They came from different worlds, but the MILF reached out and pulled Fiona into a hug.
The firecracker’s gaze met mine and she narrowed her eyes. And I flipped her off. My work here was done and, without saying bye, I marched out of the worn-down cafeteria to my precious car, Margo, named after a wild girl I’d known in high school. Nice to look at, easy to drive and roared like a machine when I put her in gear. Yeah, Margo was the perfect name.
It hadn’t been an entirely shit day. The kids had surprised me with their respect and eagerness to get started. The thorn in my side was Prissy Fiona.
