The Boy Who Appeared from the Rain
Page 56
Chapter 9
Craig exhaled sharply the next Thursday evening, his hands on his hips, and stared into the little crowd assembled in the bleachers and in lawn chairs arranged behind the backstop. The game was about to begin, but he was missing someone—a first base coach. One of his usual coaches was sick and the other was out of town. No other dads were at the game today, which left Craig in need of a coach.
So he searched through the group that had come to watch. There were several moms he could ask, including Kara, but he didn't think having a mom on the field would seem appropriate to nine- and ten-year-old boys. He looked for a man. Ben had just shown up—Craig gave him a welcoming wave—but as he would not likely know whether to send a runner on a pop-up with one away, Craig figured he should consider Ben a last resort.
Eddie walked up and seated himself on the front row of the bleachers beside Ben, who had taken a seat next to Kara. There we go, Craig thought. He stepped up to the backstop and called through it. "Hey, Eddie—didn't you used to play baseball?"
Eddie looked up at him, surprised to be addressed. "A long time ago. I quit when I was twelve."
"Can you tell a sacrifice fly from an infield pop-up?" Craig asked.
"Sure," Eddie shrugged, curious.
"Perfect," Craig said. "I need a base coach. Want to help us out, just for today?"
Eddie seemed hesitant. He glanced toward the team gathered in the dugout, where Zach had heard Craig and turned to look. "Well…okay, I guess."
Craig clapped his hands one time. "All right, we're ready to go, then! Mitchell," he yelled, turning toward the boys assembled in the dugout, "grab a bat. You're leading off."
Eddie came around the fence and onto the field. "You take first, I'll take third," Craig told him. "Just tell the guys when to run and when to stay. Nothing too complicated."
"You got it, coach," Eddie replied. He jogged around home plate and took his place near first base.
From the start, he turned out to be the best first base coach Craig had had in five seasons of coaching. Mitchell hit the fourth pitch he saw into the outfield on a line; Eddie immediately spotted that Mitchell was fast and sent him around first to begin the game with an easy double. Mitchell scored on another hit a couple of batters later. In the dugout, Eddie struck up an instant friendship with the boys. Zach introduced him as the janitor at his school, and Eddie threatened to make any player who missed a catch sweep off all the bases. He teased each of them in turn, especially Zach, and cheered them all on when they came to bat.
Clearly, he knew the game well. When most of the team was in the field, Eddie stationed himself beside Zach, who was on the bench for the first three innings, and added to what Craig had already taught the youngster, explaining such subtleties as why the third baseman could play a step closer to the batter against lefties and how one could, upon hitting a single in the last inning of a tied game, run halfway to second and fall down if it might distract the other team and let your teammate score from third. Zach soaked up the attention and every word.
For Zach's part, when he got into the game, he struggled. He struck out in his first at-bat, missed a fly ball that came his way in left field, and hit into an impressive double play turned by the other team. Who knew ten-year-olds could turn a flawless 6-4-3 double play?
When his team took the field in the bottom of the fifth inning, Craig sat down beside Eddie on the bench. "Can I ask you something?" he inquired.
"You bet," Eddie nodded, watching the pitcher's warm-up throws.
"When you first met Zach, did you ever encounter his grandmother—maybe when she dropped him off or picked him up?"
"I almost always worked nights back then," Eddie answered. "I was just getting started there. Now I get more of a mix of days and nights."
"How about the nannies?" Craig asked. "Ever meet any of them?"
Eddie gave him a cautious, questioning look.
"We're trying to figure out how to get in touch with them."
Eddie shrugged. "Most of my interaction with Zach came inside the school. As far as I know, the nannies always stayed outside."
Craig cheered his team a bit as they played a ground ball and recorded the first out of the inning. "The principal called one day, just to talk. He said Zach had a hard time when he first came to kindergarten."
"I remember that," Eddie mused as the pitcher prepared to face the next batter. "He would hardly speak to any of the men in the school, even me. It took us a long time to earn his trust—especially for Mr. Lopez. I usually worked the night shift, like I said."
"Do you know why he wouldn't talk to the men?" The next batter pounded a ball into the dirt right in front of home plate. The catcher snatched it up and tagged him before he could run, and Craig and Eddie shouted their approval.
"Mrs. Miloski, the counselor, wondered if he'd ever had a male role model around," Eddie resumed. "He talked about having a grandfather, but—hey, Craig," Eddie interrupted himself, pointing to the batter, "this is the kid who launched that long shot to left in the second inning. You might have Zach back up a bit."
Sure enough—Craig would have noticed that, had he not been busy digging for information about his son. Funny, the ways being a dad could change your focus. "Zach!" he yelled. "Back up! You too, Kyle!" Zach and the center fielder each took a few steps backward until Craig signaled them to stop.
The pitcher wound up and threw a ball much too high. The next ball was outside and in the dirt. The third pitch, though, was straight and true—too much so. The batter hit it on the fat part of the bat, launching it high and deep toward left field. "Uh-oh," Eddie said, jumping to his feet just as Craig did. Zach backtracked a few steps, adjusted to his left, and stretched out his glove. The ball landed right in the pocket and bounced out again, but the youngster snatched it out of the air with his bare hand as it fell. He tripped over his feet, landed hard on his back, and jumped up again. He thrust his hand into the air, the ball firmly in his grasp. The team cheered, and Zach raced triumphantly to the dugout, where his teammates gathered around to congratulate him.
"Good call on the positioning there," Craig told Eddie quietly after each of them had saluted the youngster with a high five. That catch would have been impossible had Eddie not said something. This young man was intelligent, and even if he hadn't played in years, he certainly knew baseball.
After the game—they won again—Ben and Kara applauded Zach for his catch, and the youngster glowed. Craig, though, caught Eddie. "Hey," he said, "we only have one more game. I'd love it if you could help us out again. You knew what you were doing out there."
Eddie glanced briefly at Zach with his mom and uncle. "Yeah, okay," he answered. "I can probably get off work if I need to. My schedule is more flexible in the summertime."
"Awesome," Craig responded, clapping him once on the shoulder. When did I start saying "Awesome?" he wondered, shooting a look at his son. "Next Friday, here," he told Eddie, "seven o'clock. Come a few minutes early."
Eddie shook Craig's hand, waved goodbye to Zach and Kara, and went on his way. Craig watched him go. Good rapport with the kids, good working knowledge of the game—Eddie might make a great assistant coach next year, if the opportunity interested him.
"Dad!" Zach hollered, running up to him. "Uncle Ben got a picture of my catch. Come and see!" Grinning, he ran back to Ben. Craig couldn't help but grin, too, and follow.
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