Page 17 of Dibs
“Way to go, buddy,” I said and gave him a high-five.
“Did you see that hit?” He beamed.
“Of course I did. I’m so proud of you.” I wanted to hug him to show him how much, but instead, I said, “If Dylan hits it in the air, be prepared to tag up. Anything on the ground, you run.”
“Got it,” he replied.
Dylan swung on the first pitch, sending the ball into center field. Jase stopped halfway between first and second, waited to see where the ball went, and then as it flew over the kid’s head, I shouted, “Go!”
My son took off for second base and rounded the bag as he looked toward Gage for a sign to keep running. The boy in center field was still chasing the ball as Dylan hit first base.
“Two,” I said, and Dylan didn’t hesitate, touching the bag with one foot and sprinting toward second.
The kid in center finally scooped up the ball and threw it to his cutoff. As the other boy caught it, he spun and threw it to second just as Dylan slid into the bag and was called safe. I glanced across the diamond to see Jase standing on third.
Not a bad way to start the first inning, and by the time the inning was over, we were up 2-0.
I made my way to the dugout on the third base side. As I approached, Gage asked, “So, how was it out there?”
“It was good. Thanks for letting me help out.” I was grateful he’d given me the opportunity to do exactly what I’d been looking forward to when I decided to retire: spend time with my kids while they did what they loved.
He urged the boys to get out on the field, his son going to center and mine to shortstop. “Jase is a natural out there. Like his father.”
“Yeah, I’ve caught a few games over the years, but I’m looking forward to watching all of them now.”
“I’m glad you’re here.”
We stared at each other for a beat. “Me too.”
Just inside the opening of the dugout sat a bucket with a lid and I took a seat on it while Gage collected the two baseballs the team used for their warm-up. He threw them into another bucket and then leaned against the pole of the dugout opening. The other coach, Bob, sat on the bench. During the inning I found myself wanting to ask Gage how he’d been over the last two decades. How his knee was, what he did after he left UCLA and never came back, but instead I watched my son throw a bullet to first base after a ball was hit right at him and he made the out. I clapped for another kid who made a running catch in right field, and I jumped up a little too excited when our pitcher struck out the third batter to end the inning.
High-fives were given as the boys came off the field and then I made my way to first base again. As I stood there, waiting for the pitcher of the opposing team to get ready, I thought to myself, this was what fatherhood was all about.
* * *
We wonthe game 4-1 and after, we had about a two-hour break before we needed to warm up for the last game of the day.
“Cammie is starving,” Jamie stated as I made my way to them. Jase was still grabbing his stuff in the dugout. “I searched for restaurants on my phone and there’s a cafe just down the street.”
I picked up my daughter. “What do you want to eat, baby girl?”
“Mac and cheese.” She grinned.
“I think we can make that happen.” I kissed her cheek.
Jase walked over. “Are we eating now?”
“Yeah, bud, we are.” I rubbed the top of his baseball cap-covered head.
Dylan ran over. “Dad said I can ride with you guys, and he’d follow with Tyler.”
I glanced over at Jamie and she said, “We usually have lunch together.”
I tilted my head to the side and teased, “You didn’t tell me you’re super close with Coach Statler.”
She snorted a laugh. “Our boys are best friends and play on the same baseball team. I wouldn’t say we’re close, but the boys are.”
If only she knew how close Gage and I were once upon a time.
