The Field of Love - 11. Chapter 11

The Field of Love

Chapter 11

The next day, Coach Parker called a meeting before practice. Everyone gathered in front of the dugout and made small talk as they waited for Coach to arrive. When he did, his expression was firm, and he walked over with a determined stride.

Coach Parker stopped a few feet from the team and with a steady voice, began without his usual pleasantries, “Tony won’t be returning this season. So, we’re making a few changes. Chris will stay at third base, and Joey will move to second.”

That announcement had the team talking amongst themselves. He paused, letting the news settle.

“We live in a small community,” Parker continued. “And rumors, especially the kind started by people with too much time and not enough sense, can cause real hurt and chaos.”

He shook his head, clearly frustrated. “I won’t tolerate any nonsense from this team. If you’ve got a problem with my decisions or with who’s on this roster, turn in your uniform. Today.”

The team stood silent, the weight of his words hung in the air.

The coach paced slowly in front of the dugout. “Tomorrow, Brent will start the first game. Eric will start the second. The batting order will stay the same as the last game.”

He stopped and looked each player in the eye.

“I’ll adjust based on performance—on and off the field. That means how you play, how you carry yourselves, and how you treat each other.” Couch stared right at Brent and added, “Do I make myself clear?”

Sammy listened intently near the back next to Joey. The mention of Brent starting stirred something in his chest—not fear, but focus. He glanced at Joey, who looked both surprised and proud about his new position. Sammy gave him a small nod of support.

This team’s changing, Sammy thought. And I need to be ready for whatever comes next.

The team broke into smaller groups as practice began. Sammy jogged out to short, his cleats crunching against the dirt. The sun was high, the air thick with late-spring humidity, but his mind was clear.

Joey passed by on his way to second base and flashed a grin. “Guess I better live up to Coach’s expectations.”

“Coach’s?” Sammy replied with a teasing grin. “You best worry about my expectations.

From the dugout, Coach Parker barked out drills. “Let’s go, boys! Hustle! We’ve got a double-header tomorrow, and I want sharp plays and sharper minds!”

Brent stood near first base, tossing a ball into his glove. He didn’t say much, but his eyes occasionally flicked toward Sammy and the others. There was tension there—unspoken, but present.

Roger, the designated scorekeeper, joined Sammy in the field for warm-ups. “So, what do you think? Brent starting tomorrow—gonna be drama?”

Sammy shrugged. “Maybe. But I’m not worried. We’ve got each other.”

Roger nodded. “Yeah. And if he tries anything, we’ve got Winston the bear on standby.”

Sammy laughed, the tension easing slightly.

As practice wore on, the team began to settle into the new positions. Joey handled second base with confidence, Chris quickly adjusted to being back at third, and Sammy felt the rhythm of the field returning. It wasn’t perfect, but it was progress. He guessed it wasn’t perfect yet, because he still missed Tony at second.

Coach Parker watched closely, making notes and calling out encouragement. “Good hustle, Joey! Chris, tighten that throw! Sammy—nice read on that grounder!”

By the end of practice, the team was sweaty, tired, and quiet. But there was a sense of readiness in the air.

As they packed up, Andy clapped Sammy on the back. “Tomorrow’s game is ours. Let’s show them what Pine Hills is made of.”

Sammy nodded, gripping his glove. Tomorrow, he thought, I will play not just for the team—but for Tony, for Uncle Hawk, and for myself.

“We will. I think we have a really good team,” Sammy said.

Andy nodded. “We have a tight defense and some good hitters. We just have to continue to come together as a team.”

As Joey jogged by on the way to the locker room, he slapped gloves with Sammy. “Good practice, Sammy."

Andy got that look on his face that Sammy recognized as someone in love. Sammy smiled and turned to Andy. “You never really told me how you two met.”

Andy watched Joey as he jogged off the field. “I was sitting on the school bus with Roger heading to school on the first day of the school year, a year ago.” Andy smiled as he thought back to that day.

“I pretty much knew everyone on the bus except for a mop of blond hair sitting several rows in front of me I didn’t recognize. It wasn’t until everyone had gotten off the bus before I had a chance to see who it was. But whoever it was, was gone.” Andy said, a goofy smile on his face.

“So, it was love at first sight,” Sammy teased his friend.

“Maybe lust at first sight,” Andy admitted sheepishly. “Later on in the homeroom, when the teacher called the roll, I heard a name I had never heard before.”

“So, love at second sight?”

Andy shoved Sammy playfully. “Then this angelic voice called out, I looked up and there was that mop of blond hair again.”

“Wow. So, it was Joey?” Sammy asked sarcastically.

“Yup” Andy chuckled. “It sure was and I knew I had to get to know him. I mean, I know it sounds weird, but for some reason I felt drawn to him.”

“I can tell by the way your eyes are drawn to him.” Sammy said as he expertly dodged Andy’s attempt at another shove. “So how are Roger and Joey brothers, if Roger was on the bus and didn't know him either?”

“That’s a story for Joey to tell.” Andy said with a sad expression.

“Okay. I get that. None of my business.” Sammy said as he looked off towards the locker room.

“Hey, it’s not like that,” Andy said, as he grabbed Sammy’s arm and turned him, so they faced one another. “Everyone’s story is different, and everyone should get the say when that story is told. Just give him time. He’s been through a lot over the last few years.”

“I understand.” Sammy nodded his agreement. “Thanks for telling me.”

The next day the sun rose above the mountains, casting golden light across the hills with a promise of another beautiful spring day. The land came alive with birdsong and the quiet stirrings of creatures in the underbrush. It was the kind of morning that felt like a fresh start.

Sammy greeted the day with a run. There was nothing better for clearing his mind than focusing on the rhythmic pounding of his feet against the earth. The crisp air kept him focused and he felt the tension of the last few days disappear with each stride. All the self-doubt was replaced by a quiet determination.

Today’s the day, he thought. Time to show Pine Hills what I’m made of.

That afternoon, the call of “Play ball!” rang out across the field and echoed through the hills as both teams wrapped up their warm-ups and infield drills. The crowd settled in; the hometown fans buzzed with anticipation beneath the clear spring sky.

The Cougars took their positions. Sammy jogged out to shortstop, his cleats kicked up dust as he settled into his spot between second and third base. He scanned the field, eyes sharp, body loose. This was his zone—his responsibility.

Brent climbed the mound, finished up a few warm-up pitches with a sharp snap of the glove. He nodded to the catcher, signaling he was ready.

Pikeville’s leadoff hitter stepped into the batter’s box, tapped his cleats, and adjusted his grip. The tension was thick, but Sammy felt focused. His morning run had cleared his mind, and now his instincts were dialed in.

Brent wound up and fired the first pitch.

Crack!

The ball shot off the bat—a sharp grounder sliced toward the gap between second and third.

Sammy reacted instantly as he dove to his right. His glove hit the dirt, but he managed to snag the ball cleanly. In one fluid motion, he popped up and fired it to first.

“Out!” the umpire called.

Cheers erupted from the Cougar side of the stands.

Roger shouted from the dugout, “That’s how you do it, Sammy!”

Sammy allowed himself a small smile as he reset his stance. One down, he thought. Let’s keep it going.

Brent walked the next batter on five pitches, his focus off as he still thought Sammy was stealing the spotlight from him on that last play.

Sammy turned to Joey and used his glove to shield his mouth. “You take the throw if the runner tries to steal.”

Joey nodded in understanding, and took a step closer to second base with a right-handed batter at the plate.

Brent’s first pitch was high and tight—ball one. The next was low and outside—ball two.

Sammy called out encouragement. “Come on, Brent! You’ve got this guy!”

Chris called out, “You can do it, Brent. Rock and fire.”

From his position at shortstop, Sammy could see the catcher’s setup and the sign—inside fastball. He shifted a step to his right in anticipation the batter would pull the ball or pop-up.

Brent rocked and fired from the stretch.

The batter was ready. He jumped on the fastball and sent it screaming grounder toward Sammy. The ball hugged the dirt like a snake in the grass, threatening to bounce up and bite.

At the last second it did take a crazy bounce, but Sammy was ready. He scooped it cleanly and fired it to Joey at second, who caught it and in one smooth motion turned and threw to first.

“Double play!” the umpire called.

The Cougar fans erupted in cheers. Sammy pumped his fist, and Joey grinned as he jogged back to the dugout.

Roger shouted, “That’s how you do it, boys!”

Sammy grabbed his bat—third in the lineup. His heart pounded, steady despite the adrenaline. That’s one way to shut down a rally, he thought.

Taylor Eagleton led off for the Cougars. Being left-handed and fast, he tried to drag bunt his way on, but the Eagles’ pitcher fielded the ball quickly and threw him out at first.

Pikeville pulled their corners in case of another bunt attempt with Joey batting second. But bunting never crossed Joey’s mind—he was hunting for a pitch to drive.

On the fourth pitch, a fastball right down the middle, Joey’s eyes lit up. He swung with everything he had.

The crack of the bat echoed across the ballpark. A moment later, the ball slammed into the centerfield fence with a loud metallic clang.

Andy stood in the first base coach’s box and the moment Joey made contact, he leaned forward as the ball climbed into the air. As the ball rocketed toward the fence, he sprang up and chanted, “Go! Go!”

When Joey rounded first, Andy pointed emphatically toward second, his voice cut through the roar of the crowd.

“Atta boy, Joey!” he yelled wildly, a grin splitting his face. “That’s how you answer!”

The Eagles’ pitcher froze for a split second, his glove hung in the air from his follow-through. His eyes tracked the ball as it soared toward centerfield, and his shoulders slumped slightly when it slammed into the fence. He muttered something under his breath, then turned and walked slowly back to the mound. Once there, he kicked the dirt with frustration. That pitch was supposed to be a challenge—not a gift.

The Cougar fans erupted the instant the bat cracked. Cheers, whistles, and shouts filled the air, echoing off the bleachers and dugouts. Some fans jumped to their feet as they waved hats and fists. The metallic clang of the ball hitting the fence only fueled the frenzy. It wasn’t just a hit—it was a statement.

Sammy stepped into the batter’s box with Joey on second and one out. He tapped the plate twice, adjusted his grip, and glanced toward the pitcher. The crowd felt electric, they were riding high from Joey’s blast, and Andy clapped from the first base coach’s box, shouting encouragement.

The pitcher, still rattled from the last hit, took a deep breath, and stared in. His shoulders were tense, his delivery a little rushed. Sammy noticed it. He knew a mistake might be coming.

The first pitch came in—a curveball that broke early and dipped low. Sammy didn’t bite. Ball one. Just at that moment, a voice was heard above the buzz of the crowd, “Hey pitcher, that pitch had more hang time than a hammock!"

He stepped out briefly, took a breath, and looked toward Joey who had edged off second, ready to score on anything hit to the outfield.

Sammy dug back in. The next pitch was a fastball, but it missed high. Ball two. The Cougar fans clapped in rhythm, as they sensed a real momentum shift. The moment Sammy saw the catcher shift toward the first base side of the plate he prepared for a fastball. Just as he suspected, a fastball on the outside corner.

Sammy went with the pitch instead of trying to pull it. The bat stung his hands as the ball sailed down the right field foul line. The ball struck the ground and caused a burst of chalk to fly up- clearly a fair ball.

Sammy rounded first as Andy waved him on to second. As he approached second, Sammy saw from the corner of his eye, Coach Parker signaled to stretch it to third.

He slid hard into third base, a cloud of dust kicked up but it was unnecessary, no throw came—Pikeville’s second baseman had cut it off and jogged the ball back to the infield.

Sammy brushed the dirt from his pants as the crowd roared. Joey had scored easily which put the Cougars ahead by 1.

Brent followed Sammy with a pop-up to the third baseman on the first pitch. He wasn’t happy with his at-bat as he stormed off the field, cursing under his breath.

Eric took Pikeville’s pitcher deep to left field, but the left fielder caught the fly ball at the warning track for the third out of the inning, which left Sammy stranded at third.

Coach Parker saw Brent muttering to himself as he snatched his glove off the bench. He stopped Brent before he could head back out to the mound. “Brent, keep your head in the game. The past is history. Make new history with the present.”

Brent took a calming breath, and Parker patted the boy on his back. “You got this, son. Just stay focused. One pitch at a time. Okay?”

“Yes, sir.” Brent nodded though his jaw clenched as he simmered in his anger from his last play. Once again, that fucking half breed had showed him up again. Sammy would get what was coming to him, he’d make sure of that.

Brent took his warm-up pitches and prepared to face the Eagles’ cleanup batter. He set himself and went into his windup. The first pitch was a fastball down the heart of the plate, but the batter took it for strike one. Brent followed with a curveball that fooled the hitter for strike two. His third pitch, another fastball missed the outside corner by inches, bringing the count to one ball and two strikes.

Sammy shouted encouragement. “You got him, Brent! Set him down!”

The infielders joined in, chattering at both Brent and the batter.

The cleanup hitter wasn’t happy with the two-strike calls and planned to take it out on the pitcher. He watched Brent go into his windup, he expected the heat, so he set his back foot.

But Brent and his catcher had other ideals and chose a change-up. The hitter stood there like a house by the road and watched it go by for strike three.

And so it went for the rest of the game—Brent kept the Eagles off balance from start to finish. Sammy and Joey turned two crisp double plays, and each collected a couple of hits. The Cougars added another run in the bottom of the fourth when Eric drove in Taylor with a double, after Taylor had singled and stole second.

The Cougars won the game, 2–0.

The final out was met with a roar from the home crowd. Brent walked off the mound, his face a mix of relief and quiet pride. Sammy jogged over and slapped his glove against Brent’s shoulder.

“Two-hit shutout, baby!” Sammy grinned in his excitement. He had hoped they could ease the tension between them. “You were lights out.”

Brent gave a small nod that was betrayed by the glare he directed at the boy. The win felt good—but not good enough to erase the sting of being shown up earlier. He glanced toward the dugout and saw Andy and Joey laughing like they didn’t have a care in the world. Probably laughing about his last at bat. He’d show them, he’d show them all..

Coach Parker met Brent at the edge of the dugout. “That’s how you respond, son. You let your arm do the talking.”

Brent nodded again, this time with a hint of a smile. “Thanks, Coach.”

The team gathered near the bench, high-fiving and grabbing bottles of water from the cooler. Eric was already recounting his RBI double to anyone who’d listen, while Taylor soaked in the cheers from the crowd.

As the players headed toward the locker room, Brent lingered behind as he stared at the empty field. The scoreboard still read Cougars 2, Eagles 0. It was a win—but for Brent, the game wasn’t over. Not by a long shot.

Sammy placed his glove down on the end of the bench and took a moment to reflect on the game and thought to himself. This one was for you Tony. He smiled, turned, and looked for Andy and Joey.