Middle-Aged Teenager

I stepped out of my dad’s red truck and was greeted by a mob of boys wearing uniforms that matched the truck. Of course they weren't waiting for me, but my eight-year-old brother, Josh. When Josh exited the truck, the mob left for the nearest baseball diamond. I sighed and thought, This will be an interesting practice.

My dad led about four of the boys to the outfield to practice fielding. Another coach kept three boys and the only girl on the team back to practice batting. Seeing that no one needed my help, I sat down on the dugout bench and started a Sudoku puzzle. Moments later, I almost had the puzzle finished, when I noticed mini versions of my brother’s team, the Indians. The coach-pitch Indians were interfering with the T-ball Indians.

The coaches called all coach-pitch Indians out of the diamond and over to a vacant spot of grass. Once again, the mob of red shirts raced around. The baseball field was conveniently located behind my school, and the grassy fields were often used for school-sponsored events. Sighing, I followed the Indians over.

When I reached the make-shift diamond, bat bags were substituted for bases. The actual bats, helmets, and drinks were used as the foul lines. And my assistance was requested.

“Jess, I need you to write down the names of all the kids here,” my dad instructed. He was busy attempting to gather the kids around him. The other coach was still setting up the field. I flipped to the back cover of my Sudoku book and wrote down the names of the players: Josh, Junior, Alex, Connor, Dwight, Kaitlyn, Justin, and Tyler.

The other coach was placing the kids in the outfield, and my dad arranged the batting order. This was their fielding practice; the coach would hit the ball and someone would stop it and throw it to first base. Considering the kids were only seven- and eight-year-olds, the ball would either foul, go straight up, or be a grounder. If they could stop the ball in time and burn it to first, it would be an easy out.

Overall, the Indians did fairly well. Of course, a few misses and throws fifteen feet away from the target occasionally happened, but it wasn't that horrible. I even finished two Sudoku puzzles! The coach batted for forty-five minutes, about half of the practice. For the remainder of the practice, kids would bat and field. The only parts coaches would play is pitcher (hence, the name of the league) and catcher.

Yes, a kid would be placed as catcher, but it didn’t necessarily mean anything. More often than not, the ball would veer to the sides or go through their legs. And the coach was there to make sure precious time was not wasted. Though the Indians were undefeated, the last game was tied, and that could have been prevented. My dad wanted to make sure the next game would leave the opposing team in the dust.

The first batter up was Junior, the only lefty on the team. He had a power swing, sometimes resulting in power strikes. But he did have some hits way into the outfield. And into the outfield it went. My brother was playing left field, and he hammered it to first. However, Junior was already on his way to third. The first hit of the day was a triple.

Connor was next in line, and he hit a grounder towards second. Junior made it home, but Connor was out, thanks to a remarkable catch by Justin on first. Following Connor was the youngest of the players, Tyler. He was a sweet, charming little boy. Not only was he the youngest, he was the smallest. But he hammered that ball to center field, reaching second. I smiled to myself. Tyler’s legs were carrying him as fast as they could, and yet he wasn’t moving at a very fast pace. Alex, playing center field, should have thrown it in to Kaitlyn, the second baseman. Basewoman.

And it happened that Kaitlyn was next in line. The first practice, she sucked beyond imagination. It was now over halfway through the season, and she could successfully throw to the right person and bat decently. But she struck out this time, probably because I told my dad how much she had improved.

Next up was my brother’s best friend, Dwight. He was the second youngest, but had a really high contact average, and that ball always went deep in the outfield. This time was no different. The ball went way out to left field, and even though Josh and Junior tried to stop the ball and throw it in, Tyler and Dwight had both scored.

I laughed to myself when Alex stepped up to the plate. He was the chatterbox of the team, and it’s a miracle he even has time to breathe he talks so much. Alex barely made contact with the ball, and when he did he usually didn’t get too far. However, this time he surprised all of us. The ball soared up into the air, and it was actually going somewhere. It flew towards left field, and Josh. Just as Alex reached second base, the ball landed lightly in Josh’s glove. Alex was out.

Though thoroughly disappointed, Alex chattered happily to the other players as he made his way back for his glove. Justin was up next. He was an average player; not too many strike outs, not too many hits. He did fairly well in the outfield though. Justin swung and hit a grounder towards third base. Dwight was on the ball (literally) and beamed it over to first. He tends to overthrow it though, thinking that everyone can catch his throws.

Alex had taken Justin’s place on first base, and he was too busy chatting with Justin to realize the ball was coming at him. Luckily he ducked out of the way before any serious damage was caused. The ball had nipped his arm, and he started crying over that. My dad and the other coach ran over to him to check him over. After calming down, Alex sat out for a little bit.

Because of all the commotion over Alex, no one realized that Justin had scored. When my dad realized he had scored, he congratulated him and called in the last batter, Josh. Josh was a power hitter just like Dwight, but got a little too cocky sometimes. However, this was not the time. Josh swung and made full contact with the ball, sending it high over their heads towards center field. Josh had an easy home run.

And the whole batting order repeated over. Junior pounded another hit and made it to second. Connor made it to first this time, and Junior reached home plate. Tyler sent Connor in, and made it to third himself. Yet again, Kaitlyn struck out. Deep in my mind I knew that I had cursed her. There wasn’t even any wood to knock on. And then it was back to Dwight.

Just like last time, Dwight pounded the ball straight into center field. Tyler quickly retrieved the ball and threw it towards third. Of course, good ole Alex had to be on third, taking Dwight's place. Chattering to a nearby outfielder, he didn’t notice this ball being thrown at him either. This time, it didn’t nip him, it hit him full-fledged in the stomach. He started bawling and clutching his stomach.

Alex was skinny and had no meat on him to nullify the force of the throw. And once again the coaches raced over to make sure no real damage was done. After leading Alex off the field to his mother, play resumed. Because Alex was next, and he was injured, Justin took his spot.

He sent one to right field and Dwight made it home. He had stopped at third, not knowing what to do with the Alex issue. Justin barely made it to second, but somehow, he did. And it was back to Josh. Josh hammered it out to deep center field, so Justin and himself scored. And the batting order started over for the third time.

As Junior rounded first base, Alex came up behind my dad and asked to be assistant catcher. My dad nodded okay, more worried about Junior making it to third than about Alex. A few escaped between my dad’s legs, and Alex promptly chased after them. Before he threw it, my dad always reminded him, “You can be catcher as long as you don’t throw the ball at me.”

Luckily, it didn’t hit my dad, and so the game went on. Alex was chattering excitedly to my dad about random things, and asked him why he had a bandana on his head. “It’s my do-rag,” my dad said proudly. “It keeps the sweat out of my old eyes too.”

Out of nowhere, Alex piped up, “Are you in your forties?” I laughed, and thinking it was a strange question, I turned around to face Alex. But he was staring at me!

“Oh yeah, I hit forty many years ago,” my dad was saying.

Then Alex shakes his head and says, “Not you. Her,” as he points at me. My dad turns around and laughs strangely, but then focuses on the game. Kaitlyn had made a hit this time, and she made it to first.

I stare at Alex a little more and ask quizzically, “Do I look like I'm in my forties?”

Before Alex could answer, his mom, who was sitting several yards away shouted, “Alex! What did I tell you about asking girls if they are in their forties!?” Alex shied off and watched the game. I couldn’t help laughing to myself as Justin sent Kaitlyn and Dwight home.

Not too long after that, practice was officially over, and the kids all raced around trying to gather their things. When all was packed up, they chased each other around just for the heck of it. One conversation I picked up on was between Josh and Junior. Apparently they call each other nicknames, and Josh was at a loss. I called him over and whispered it in his ear. A sly grin spread across his face and he ran back to Junior.

“You’re a taternut!” Josh shouted at the top of his lungs. Junior’s jaw dropped and he raced after Josh. I shook my head and smiled while loading things into the red truck. My dad and eventually Josh joined me as we headed for home.

“This was a good practice today, Josh,” my dad proudly informed my brother.

“Yeah, and I called Junior a taternut!” Josh replied excitedly.

My dad eyed me quizzically, then looked back to the road. After the song “Size Matters” finished on the radio, I heaved a big sigh. “Alex wanted to know if I was in my forties,” I stated.

“What?” Josh asked laughing.

My dad grinned and shook his head. “Well, that is Alex for ya.”

I couldn’t have said it better myself.