Mom's suggestion lit a fire under Noah. He gave a stiff nod as an answer in the moment, but Sunday morning, I could tell he was working harder than before. He even bargained with Dave, offering to catch a bullpen session in exchange for Dave helping him practice his reflexes and fielding.
The two of them worked hard all morning, making me look like a couch potato as I literally stayed on the couch. Grampa and I watched some morning baseball of games playing on the East Coast.
He would occasionally comment 'good play' or something along the lines of 'idiot'. All his remarks were mostly to himself, but it still put pressure on me.
I worked up the courage to face Grampa after the seventh 'idiot' comment that came after a swinging strikeout. "Grampa…"
He turned to me casually. "Yes?"
I pursed my lips. "What…makes them idiots?"
