(original version: 10,479 words)
I'd like to thank Kenjisato again for editing. Sexual activity only involves characters over the age of eighteen. Any similarities to persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
Baseball, It Is Not The Late Innings Yet
Well, another baseball season is about to start. I am the head baseball coach at Box Canyon high school. My name is David Powell. I've been teaching social studies and coaching baseball here for thirty years. Being a coach, I work out with my team. At fifty-two, I still have most of my hair, and no dad bod. Some of the younger lady teachers have been surprised at my age; most thought I was fifteen, or more, years younger.
Maria and I
Maria and I had raised three wonderful boys, all three had earned almost full-ride baseball scholarships, and adding part of mine and all of Maria's Legacies grants to our alma mater. The boys had left college with no college loans. Now, they're all finished with college ,and have started their own adult lives and are fathers themselves.
Why I am alone — Maria's death
I had been married for twenty-eight years, when my wife died suddenly of a heart attack. It happened the first week in June. I had just finished work for the summer. It took me the whole summer to even start to feel real again.
The doctor said Maria was sort of lucky— if you can call death, lucky. The autopsy showed that she had stage four pancreatic cancer; he said it would've been very painful for her. I kind of hung onto that fact, and I was then okay that she had gone quickly.
My boys and their families were a great support for me. My seven-year-old grandson, David, said, "I can't be sad, grandma is up in heaven watching over me; she always made me happy when I was sad. I won't be sad. I'll be happy I had a grandma like her."
Granddaughter Little Sharon, four, just said, "Gama is up in 'eaven." Out of the mouth of babes. Baby Maria was born four months after I lost my Maria.
Tryouts
I was looking at all the players who were trying out for the teams. The first three days are like a cattle call; I make even last year's varsity players try out. I noticed a young player who looked like he had a good arm. He was just a freshman, and he said he'd like to be a pitcher. Usually, I would have varsity players bat against self-proclaimed pitchers. Many of these self-proclaimed pitchers felt they were entitled to the position, but this kid spoke humbly without any arrogance.
I had him pitch against five good freshman prospects, and no one even fouled a ball off. Then against four good junior varsity prospects, two were able to foul off one pitch each. And finally, against six of my best varsity prospects, each one was able to foul off just one pitch— not one had a single hit.
I told him to sit down.
Just for the heck of it, I had the kid bat against varsity pitching. The kid had a great eye; he did not let one ball in the strike zone go by. Out of fifteen pitches in the strike zone, he hit eleven into fair territory. I called him over and had the freshman and junior varsity coaches take over.
"What is your name?"
"Daniel, Daniel Denton, sir."
"You are pretty good, are your parents here?"
"No, sir. Mom works at the bank and my dad is dead. But mom will be picking me up about a half an hour after tryouts."
"Well, Daniel, I'd like to talk to your mom; I don't care what time she gets here."
Our league required extra doctors' notes and parental permission for freshmen to play varsity. I could see something great about this boy.
The name sounded very familiar
The name Denton sounded very familiar to me, then I remembered back a few years ago, I had a scorekeeper named Bethany Denton, who had been going out with one of my players, Christopher Stevens, a standout pitcher who was scouted by both the pros and Division I schools. He had pitched us to third place in the state tournament, and made the all-state baseball team. Chris was killed in a car accident on his way to visit a university that was going to give him a full-ride baseball scholarship. Beth was not seen after that year. Friends said she took Chris's death very hard, and had to move away to get away from her hurt. Could Danny be her son?
Tryouts were over for the day at five o'clock. I had another two days to pick twenty-two to twenty-five players, but I knew basically who my first eleven varsity players would be, and I hoped Danny would be my twelfth. At five-thirty outside my office, I heard a young man's voice and a woman's voice.
The woman asked, "Did you do something wrong? Why would the coach want to see me?"
There was a knock on my door. "Come in."
Danny opened the door and allowed his mother to enter first.
When Danny's mother's and my eyes met, the recognition was unmistakable. It was Beth Denton. She opened her mouth and could not speak. So I said, "Hello Beth, how have you been?" Just like meeting an old friend.
Beth said, "Coach Powell! I did not know you were still here."
"Well, I am still here," with a big smile.
Beth turned to Danny and told him, "Take a chair out in the hall so I can talk to coach Powell in private." Danny took a chair out to the hall.
Turning to me, "Coach, I need to talk to you."
When the door closed behind Danny, Beth's eyes began to tear up.
I grabbed a box of tissues and put my arms around to embrace the trembling mother. I helped her sit. I felt very protective of her, at least that was what I felt, even though I felt some kind of electricity between us.
"Coach, I am sorry. I did not think I would be talking to a living memory of my earlier time here in Arizona. You see, coach, Chris Stevens is Danny's father. We had been intimate for the first time just weeks before Chris left for his campus visit. I found out I was pregnant and called Chris before he left. He said he was happy, and he couldn't wait until he got back home. We made plans to be together forever right on the phone. After we hung up, he left and had his accident somewhere on US-93... I have never driven on US-93 since.
"Then when they accessed his phone, it had shown that I was the last one to talk to him. His parents blamed me and when I told them I was pregnant with his child, they got a court order to stop me from calling them. My parents threw me out for being pregnant and I went to live with my grandparents out of state. I got my high school diploma and went to college thanks to my grandparents.
"I got a great job with the bank and inherited my grandparents' home when they died, just months apart. Last year, my parents were both diagnosed with cancer, and they died within months of each other also. When they were diagnosed, I reached out to them. We finally made amends. Since I'm an only child, I inherited their house here in town when they passed. Right after that, I was offered the position with the bank here as manager. I sold my grandparents' house and moved Danny and myself back here, and now he's in the school I started high school at."
Beth was crying silent tears, I got another box of tissues.
At this point, I grabbed three Cokes out of my little fridge, pointed to the door and said, "Okay for Danny?"
She nodded yes.
I went to the door and gave Danny the bottle of the elixir from my youth. I sat down and handed a bottle to Beth.
