The Field of Love - 18. Chapter 18

The Field of Love

Chapter 18

After the boys gathered their stuff from their lockers, they headed to the locker room to get dressed for their games against Wise County’s Wildcats.

“How are you feeling, Andy?” Joey asked, uncertainty threading through his voice as they walked toward the field.

Andy laughed softly. “I’m fine, babe. I feel stronger every day.” He wrapped an arm around Joey’s neck, pulling him close. “We can’t let Brent get to us. It’s like those thugs who messed with us over JT—we stay in control of ourselves and don’t let them dictate how we respond.”

He nudged Joey playfully in the ribs. “Besides, we’ve got a team to develop. Wanna help me?”

Joey smiled, eyes warm. “Andy, you have so much going on. Of course, I wanna help you. I’ll help you with anything and all things.”

“Well, right now we have a game to win,” Andy said, breaking into a jog toward the ball field. Joey followed, laughing.

OOOOO

The young freshman, Ben, was the starting pitcher, trying to come back from the first loss of his high school career. After their infield and pitching warmups, Andy, Sammy, and Joey jogged over and joined Ben on the mound.

Andy smiled as he placed the ball gently into Ben’s glove. “You got this. And we promise to score more runs this time.”

Sammy laughed. “Yeah, I didn’t get to play in that game.”

Andy gave Sammy a playful shove. “I didn’t play either. So now you’ve got two more guys backing you up.”

Joey patted Ben on the backside. “You can do this.”

Ben needed that encouragement. The older boys’ confidence settled him, and he actually believed them. It showed on the first nine pitches—every one of them a strike, not a single batter making contact. Just like that, three quick outs, and the Cougars were coming to bat.

Joey led off the bottom of the inning against the left‑handed pitcher, slapping a single between first and second. Taylor stepped out of the on‑deck circle and looked toward Coach Parker, waiting for the signal.

The first pitch to Taylor was high and inside for ball one. Taylor stepped out of the box and glanced at Coach Parker again. The coach flashed the sign. Taylor looked toward the third baseman, who was playing deep. Taylor nodded at the coach, then stepped back into the box.

Taylor settled back into the batter’s box, tightening his grip on the bat. The pitcher came set, glanced at Joey on first, then delivered.

Taylor squared early.

The ball came in fast, but Taylor deadened it perfectly — a soft roller straight down the third‑base line. The third baseman hesitated, realizing too late he’d been playing too deep. Joey was already flying toward second.

The pitcher lunged off the mound, but Sammy’s voice echoed from the dugout, “Let it roll!”

The ball hugged the chalk.

By the time the pitcher reached it, Taylor was already halfway down the line, legs pumping, eyes locked on first. Joey slid safely into second, kicking up a cloud of dust.

The crowd erupted.

Coach Parker clapped once, sharply. “That’s how we do it!”

Taylor popped up from his run, brushing dirt off his pants after sliding headfirst into first base, grinning. Joey pointed at him from second, shouting, “Perfect!”

Ben watched from the dugout, wide‑eyed, the confidence from his nine‑pitch inning now mixing with the electricity of the offense waking up behind him.

Andy jogged to the on‑deck circle, bat resting on his shoulder, eyes locked on the pitcher. Sammy stood behind him, tapping Andy’s helmet twice — their little ritual.

“You’re up,” Sammy said. “Let’s break this open.”

Andy nodded. “Time to back Ben up.”

Andy strode to the plate, eyes locked on the pitcher — who, strangely, was staring at the third baseman instead of him. Andy shook his head once, dismissing whatever trick the pitcher was thinking, and focused on Coach Parker instead.

The coach flashed the hit‑away sign.

Andy tightened his batting gloves, took two slow practice swings, then stepped into the batter’s box with that calm, steady posture that always made Joey relax and Sammy grin.

The first pitch was low and outside for ball one. As the catcher tossed the ball back to the mound, Andy took a half‑step closer to the plate. The pitcher noticed. The second pitch was supposed to be a curveball, but it never broke — It sailed high and inside, brushing Andy back off the plate.

Andy just smiled at the pitcher as he stepped back into the box.

The third pitch was a fastball right down the middle, exactly where Andy loves it. He teed off on it, crushing it deep to left field. The ball slammed off the fence for a stand‑up double.

Joey scored easily from second, and Coach Parker threw up both hands, stopping Taylor at third. No outs. Runners on second and third.

And Sammy is due up.

After getting the hit‑away sign from Coach Parker, Sammy dug into the batter’s box with his right foot, dipped his head toward the pitcher, and settled in. His stance was calm, but there was a weight behind it — the kind that made pitchers rethink their choices.

It was clear the pitcher was shaken by Andy’s hit. He motioned for the catcher to come out to the mound. The umpire started toward them to break up the mini‑conference, but before he got there, the Wildcats’ coach stepped out of the dugout and held up four fingers.

Walk him.

The catcher turned and pointed at Sammy and held up four fingers to the umpire to walk Sammy.

Umpire looked at Sammy who stood in the batter’s box as he waited for play to begin again. and said, “Take your base, son.”

Sammy just shook his head and walked to first base, which loaded the bases with Cougar’s base runners.

The Wildcats were trying desperately to stop the bleeding, pulling the infield in tight, hoping to prevent any more runs from crossing the plate.

That brought up the senior, Eric.

The pressure was now squarely on the pitcher. Walking Eric would force in another run, and the Wildcats couldn’t afford that. So, the lefty decided to rely on the one pitch he knew he could throw for a strike — the fastball.

Unfortunately for him, that was the one pitch Eric never had trouble hitting. You could fool him with a curveball now and then, but if you threw a fastball over the plate, you’d better duck.

Eric’s eyes widened the moment he saw the first pitch — a fastball coming straight down the heart of the plate.

He unloaded on it.

The crack of the bat echoed across the field as the ball rocketed toward center. It cleared the fence with room to spare and landed somewhere out in the parking lot for a grand slam, plating four more runs.

The Cougars now led 5–0 with no outs in the bottom of the first inning.

They weren’t done.

The Cougars tacked on two more runs before the inning finally ended, igniting what would become a 14–0 rout of the Wildcats.

The dugout exploded onto the field after the final out, every Cougar sprinting toward Ben to congratulate him on his first high‑school win — a shutout.

Andy reached him first, grinning from ear to ear. “I told you you could do it. You’re gonna be a big help this postseason.” He threw an arm around Ben’s neck, pulling him into a playful headlock and rubbing his knuckles across Ben’s head, laughing uncontrollably.

“Andy, stop messing with Ben,” Joey said, giggling as he jogged up.

Ben tried to pull away, still laughing, but he turned right into Sammy — who picked up exactly where Andy left off, grabbing Ben and ruffling his hair even harder.

At that point, the rest of the team piled in, shouting, laughing, clapping Ben on the back, turning the infield into a swirling mess of boys celebrating their freshman pitcher like he’d just won a championship.

Ben didn’t even try to escape anymore. He just let himself get swallowed by the team.

After the celebration finally broke apart, the boys drifted toward the locker room in noisy clusters, still replaying Ben’s strikeout like it was the last play of the World Series. The energy thinned as they filtered inside—laughter echoing, cleats scraping, the smell of dirt and sweat trailing behind them.

OOOOO

By the time Andy and Joey stepped back outside, the noise had faded to a distant rumble. Robert was already waiting, calm and composed, holding the rubber training knife.

“Ready?” he asked.

Andy nodded, and Robert guided him into a controlled wrist lock, adjusting his stance as Andy grimaced—not in pain, but in concentration.

Sammy burst out of the locker room, towel slung around his neck, eyes wide. His stomach dropped. Andy’s expression looked strained, Robert’s grip looked brutal, and the glint of the knife sealed it.

He didn’t think. He moved.

In a flash, Sammy whipped the towel from his neck, looped it around Robert’s knife arm, and yanked it over his shoulder. With surprising force, he slammed Robert to the ground and kicked the knife free.

“Sammy! What the hell?!” Andy shouted, stunned.

Robert grunted, rubbing his shoulder, irritation flickering before he forced a laugh. “It’s a demo, man!”

Sammy scrambled back, panting, eyes darting between them. “Demo? You were—? Oh crap.” Sammy glanced at his shoes in embarrassment and weakly added. “Nobody told me! How was I supposed to know?”

Andy shook his head, half amused, half exasperated. “Self-defense class. You just body-slammed my instructor.”

Joey couldn’t keep from laughing as he looked back and forth between the three of them.

Robert sat up, suppressing another laugh. “Well… at least Andy knows someone’s got his back.”

“I thought you were stabbing him! You had a knife!” Sammy said, still bewildered.

Andy picked up the knife and held it out. “It’s rubber.”

Sammy took it from Andy, squinted at it, then tossed it aside sheepishly. “Okay, my bad. But you have to admit—I reacted fast.”

Robert smiled, finally relaxing. “You did. Next time, sign up for the class instead of attacking me.”

The tension dissolved into laughter. Sammy helped Robert up, Andy still chuckling.

Andy grinned. “You’re lucky he didn’t flip you into next week.”

Sammy blushed. “I’m lucky he didn’t stab me with that rubber knife.”

OOOOO

Joey sat on the low concrete step, elbows on his knees, watching the last bit of sunlight fade behind the bleachers. Sammy walked up slowly, towel over his shoulder, still embarrassed about tackling Robert earlier.

“You okay?” Sammy asked, sitting beside him.

Joey nodded. “Yeah. Just thinking. But I guess I should be asking if you’re okay.” Joey smiled and looked back towards the mountains as the last sun light faded with a burst of red and orange colors.

Sammy nodded and softly said, “Yeah.” and then waited on Joey as he always talked when he was ready.

After a moment, Joey said, “Andy keeps saying we have to stay steady. Not let people like Brent control how we react.” He rubbed his palms together. “I’m trying. But sometimes it feels like everything’s shaking.”

Sammy leaned back, looking up at the sky. “Yeah. I get that.”

They sat in silence for a moment, listening to the cicadas.

“You ever hear that verse Andy’s mom liked?” Sammy said quietly. “The one where Jesus is called… ‘the Amen’?”

Joey looked over. “The Amen?”

“Yeah.” Sammy shrugged. “Means the final word. The truth that doesn’t change. The thing that stays solid even when everything else is falling apart.”

Joey breathed out slowly. “Feels like Andy’s been that for me lately.”

Sammy smiled. “He’s been that for all of us.”

Another quiet moment passed.

“But you know,” Sammy added, voice softer, “I think that’s why we’re all here. We’re supposed to be that for each other. The steady part. The part that doesn’t break.”

Joey swallowed, eyes stinging just a little. “You really think so?”

Sammy nudged him with his shoulder. “I know so.”

Joey let out a small laugh. “You’re better at this deep stuff than you pretend.”

Sammy grinned. “Don’t tell anybody. I’ve got a reputation.”

They sat together until the field lights clicked off, the night settling around them like a blanket — two boys holding onto the one truth they both understood:

Some things stay. Some things hold. Some things don’t break.

Before they both stood, Sammy turned to Joey, his voice low, the kind he only used when he meant every word. “Andy once told me that ‘The Truth Untold’ by BTS was one of his favorite songs. That’s pretty fitting… because it’s like Andy himself is the truth told. You know what I mean? He doesn’t hide who he is. He’s like what you see is what you get.”

Joey didn’t answer right away. He just looked at Sammy — really looked — seeing the seriousness in his eyes.

Finally, Joey nodded. “Yeah,” he said softly. “I do.”

Sammy breathed out, almost relieved someone else understood. “He’s… real. Like, the kind of truth that doesn’t change. Doesn’t bend. Doesn’t break.”

Joey swallowed, feeling that same weight in his chest — the one Andy always stirred without trying. “He’s the part that stays,” Joey said. “Even when everything else doesn’t.”

Sammy’s mouth twitched into a small smile. “Exactly.”

They stood then, brushing dirt from their pants, the sounds of the team still echoing faintly from the dugout. But for a moment — just a moment — it was only the two of them, sharing the truth they both knew:

Andy wasn’t just their friend. He was the steady center of something bigger, something coming, something already unfolding.

And they were the ones meant to stand beside him when it did.