I look out at the setting sun through the window. It paints the inside of the library orange. I flip through the scorebook from the game we had last week. It's tough. I have no clue who I should start at first base. Chapman is better defensively but Olandin can hit better. While trying to make a decision an old wrinkled hand touches the back of my neck. I turn to see the librarian.
"Go home, it's already past 7:00." I check my phone as if I didn't believe her to see that it's 7:08. I pack my things in my bag and head out of the back entrance toward the parking lot. I aim my keys towards my old grey Honda civic and click the unlock button. As I go to sit in my car I look out to our baseball field. After the team's practice ended at 5:00. I went back to the library to pick the starting lineup against Trinity Institute. A super preppy type of private school. Tuition for that high school cost as much as some college tuitions cost.
It's my junior year of high school and I put as much effort into the baseball team as the head coach does. I analyze film from previous games, I handle the starting lineup, I suggest substitutions and pitching changes during games. The reason for all that effort is because I simply love baseball. Of course i would love to play but I'm not really good enough. I'm 5'10 in height and average weight and I wouldn't say I'm completely unathletic but for some reason baseball and me just never clicked. So if this is the way for me to connect with the sport I love most I am more than happy to do it.
I arrive at my apartment building, it's about a 10 minute drive from the school. I'm on the first floor so no stairs luckily. My parents died in an accident when I was young and they left me a pretty hefty inheritance. I lived with my aunt and uncle and emancipated from them as soon as I turned 17. They're good people but I didn't want to burden them any further than I already have. They have their own kids to take care of anyways. I unlock my door and head into my almost empty apartment. I have an appropriate amount of furniture such as a couch, night stands and such. There's no pictures or posters on the walls. This does not feel like a home. To me it feels more like a bus stop. I just wait here for the next bus to take me to tomorrow.
The next day at school starts and finishes. I go to the baseball locker room and change into my uniform. My number is 00. On the roster I'm eligible as a player but I'd say my role on the team is that of a shadow coach. I just tell the head coach what i think during games and sometimes he'll do what i say and other times he won't. He always seems appreciative of what I do though. After I change I head into the coaches office to give him the starting lineup. The head coach looks at it confused.
"You want to start Chapman? The kid is batting under .200."
"Trinity has 5 lefties in their lineup, We're not gonna stop a powerhouse school like them from hitting so the right side of the field should be as strong defensively as possible."
He just nods in agreement. I look around the office and notice that none of Willow's stuff is there. Willows is the assistant coach. Me and him never seemed to see eye to eye. He seems to not like my presence on the team.
"Where is coach Willows?"
"He is out of town for the weekend, a funeral i think." I just nod and leave the office. I head out to the field. I grab an empty ball bucket and flip it around and I take my seat on it. Anyone who's been in a dugout during a game knows it's the best seat in the house. After both teams warm up we stand on our respective foul lines for the national anthem. Before it starts I look over to the coach who is sweating profusely. He starts to stretch his left arm. Not long after that I started to realize what was happening. He's having a heart attack. The anthem started to play on the speakers. I yelled as loud as I could over it.
"SOMEONE CALL AN AMBULANCE!" Everyone looked over at me and started to see what was happening. I heard panic in the audience. Players from my team form a circle around the coach.
I don't know who ended up calling but soon after an ambulance drove right onto the field and took away the coach. We all stared in disbelief. Some of the players that were close to the coach were tearing up as was I. We all sit in the dugout with solemn expressions wondering what happens next, as we stare onto the field we see the umpire head over to the opposing team's dugout before coming over to ours.
"Do you guys still want to play?"
"We don't have a coach. Our assistant coach is out of town." I reply. The ump lets out a sigh before someone in the dugout speaks up.
"That's not true, we have you." I turn around to see Peter Chapman speaking up.
"We all know that you stay late watching game films, and we also know that you're the one who decides the starting lineup. I personally think that if anyone could fill in it's you."
I was shocked to know that the team knew. I tried to keep it a secret. I thought that if anyone found out I chose the starting lineup it would create some inner turmoil within the team and against me. The rest of the team looks hesitant about me coaching though. I look over to the ump.
"Is this allowed?" The ump shrugs his shoulders suggesting that he doesn't know.
"If you don't play you forfeit the game. So why not give it a shot. Worse case scenario is that it is against the rules and you receive the loss."
Without polling the rest of the team I decided at the moment that I'll do it. I turn to the rest of the guys with a half smile on my face.
"Let's play ball."