Page 11 of Catching the Coach
A chorus of yeses goes up and he sends everyone to their positions. The boys not out on the field are up to bat first. He sends Reese to stand at third and Brent to first for coaches, then comes and stands where Kara and I are. He crosses his arms over his chest and leans up against the dugout. I take a moment to run my eyes up his body, starting at his muscular calves, and working my way up his cargo shorts. They don’t give away much, but I do notice how his hips and catcher’s ass fill out the normally boring shorts. His fitted T-shirt hangs loose around his abdomen but quickly tightens around his chest and shoulders. The short sleeves stretched within an inch of their life, threatening to rip at any moment. He catches me staring, even through my sunglasses, so I avert my eyes and look out to the field like I’m checking on the boys.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see him smirk before clearing his throat. “These boys have some great skills, we really didn’t have to tweak much to get them honed in.” He looks at Kara, then at me. “You’ve both done a great job.” I feel my cheeks redden at the compliment. I know we’ve done a great job with these boys and I don’t know why I’m embarrassed. I dip my head and offer a small smile, but don’t comment further. Kara however feels the need to elaborate.
Shocking.
“Well most of the credit goes to my girl here,” she says, hitching her thumb my way. “I’m just the extra body. Lucy eats, sleeps, and breathes baseball. Always has. Even after… Ooof!” she belts out, rubbing the spot where my elbow met her side. I give her a pointed look and she widens her eyes and shuts her mouth. “Uh anyways, most of the credit goes to Luce. Let’s get this going, shall we? Parents will be here to pick kids up soon,” Kara spews out in one breath.
Kessler raises his eyebrows but doesn’t comment further. He claps his hands and moves off getting the mini-game started, leaving me and Kara alone.
“Jesus Kara, what the hell was that?” I whisper.
“Sorry! I’m sorry, you know how I am. I just talk and don’t think about what’s coming out of my mouth.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose, take a deep breath, then blow it out.
“I know! I swear, it won’t happen again!”
I nod my head knowing she didn’t mean to say anything. “Let’s just get through the rest of practice. The boys look excited to put their skills to the test.”
Kara nods in agreement and we both take a seat in the dugout. The boys cycle through, each taking a turn batting, every one showing off the new skills they’ve learned in the field and at bat. I’m impressed by how much quicker everyone is in their plays. We get to the last group of batters and everyone makes it on base. With no batters left and parents starting to show up, I stand and walk out of the dugout to dismiss practice.
“OK boys, great practice. Let’s thank Mr. Davis, Mr. Attwood, and Mr. Hayes for their time.” The boys groan, not ready to be done.
“Hold up,” says Kessler, giving me a cocky smirk. “Why don’t we make this interesting.”
I cock an eyebrow at him. “How?” I ask, not sure if I’m liking where this is going.
“You come up and bat. The boys get you out, I buy everyone ice cream.” Cheers erupt amongst the boys. “Hold on, I’m not done,” he says, quieting down the boys. “Like I said, the boys get you out, I buy everyone ice cream. You get on base, and the boys owe you laps.” All the boys groan. “Then I buy everyone ice cream.” Everyone erupts in cheers.
I let out a laugh. “So either way, the boys get ice cream?”
Kessler shrugs and gives me a wink, making my heart stutter quickly. “Seems like a win-win situation to me. So what do you say, Coach? You game?”
I look at the boy’s hopeful faces, then back at Kessler, who has the same look as the boys.
“Game on, Davis.”
All the boys cheer. I grab a bat and make my way to the plate. Hudson smirks at me from behind his catcher’s mask. I give him a wink and tap the plate with my bat. I take my position and wait for my pitch. Joey, one of our top pitchers, winds up and sends a pitch my way. I take a swing and hear it hit Hudson’s glove.
“Strike one,” calls Kessler, acting as the umpire.
I get back into position and Joey winds up again, sending another pitch over the plate. This time I don’t swing, not liking the pitch sent my way.
“Strike two,” Kessler bellows. I step back and look at him.
“That was NOT a strike,” I argue
“Outside corner,” is all he says.
I roll my eyes but don’t argue. I take my position again.
“Hold up.” I hear Kessler say and I back out of the box.
“How do we feel about me giving Coach Lucy a few pointers? It’s only fair since you guys got some today.”
I hear the boys all murmur in agreement.
“I’m fine,” I argue.
