The Field of Love - 2. Chapter 2

The Field of Love

Chapter 2

Growing up in a county that’s ninety-nine percent white, tucked deep in the mountains of Eastern Kentucky, hasn’t been easy for Sammy. As a half Native American with long black hair and dark skin, he’s always stood out—and not in a way that made life easier. From the moment he started grade school, no matter how kind or helpful he tried to be, one thing remained constant: Brent Sloan.

On the very first day, during Sammy’s first recess, Brent showed up like a bad penny—always turning up, always causing trouble. From that moment on, Brent made it his mission to make Sammy’s life miserable.

It wasn’t the rugged, isolated nature of “hillbilly country” that gave Sammy the most heartburn. In fact, most folks around there lived by a simple code: leave me alone, and I’ll leave you alone. They were the kind of people who’d give you the shirt off their back if you were in need—but also the kind who’d take justice into their own hands if you crossed them. Like the characters in the hit TV show Justified, the region had its fair share of good-hearted people, but also its bad seeds, criminal elements, and the certifiably insane.

What really wore Sammy down was the way his classmates followed Brent’s lead. Like kids everywhere, they gravitated toward the biggest, loudest, and most vicious voices—not out of agreement, but out of fear. Most either joined in or kept their heads down to avoid becoming targets themselves.

That started to change a few weeks ago, when Coach Parker encouraged Sammy to try out for baseball. For the first time, Sammy found something that gave him a sense of belonging—and a chance to rewrite the story Brent had been telling about him for years.

For most of his first ten years in the Letcher County School system, Sammy kept to himself. He never complained, but the isolation hurt—deeply. In the beginning, he couldn’t understand why he was treated differently than the other kids. The questions weighed on him, quietly building up until one afternoon in second grade, he came home in tears.

His father sat him down and gently explained the harsh truth: people carry prejudices—preconceived opinions passed down from generation to generation. He told Sammy that bullies like Brent Sloan were often cowards at heart, driven by insecurity and a desperate need for public approval. “They want to be accepted,” his father said, “so they tear others down to feel bigger.”

Then came the advice Sammy would never forget: “Ignore the names and the taunts. But never let anyone lay a hand on you.”

The very next day, Sammy stood his ground. Brent threatened him with a beating, but Sammy didn’t back down. That moment of defiance changed everything. From that day forward, no one ever physically threatened him again.

Until today.

Despite everything, Sammy stayed a kind-hearted soul. He refused to let the way he was treated define him or change who he was. Even as he faced constant ostracization, he held onto his integrity and compassion.

Academically, Sammy stood near the top of his class—not because he was the smartest, but because he was the hardest worker. He poured himself into his schoolwork, giving one hundred and ten percent in everything he attempted. Every assignment, every test, every project was a chance to prove—not to others, but to himself—that he was capable, worthy, and strong.

Because of his hard work and diligence, Sammy was well liked by his teachers. Over the years, many of them became aware of how he was treated by his peers and quietly admired the grace and strength with which he faced it. He never lashed out, never gave up, just kept showing up and doing his best.

When Coach Parker first approached him about joining the baseball team, Sammy hesitated. He’d played in the summer little league, but even then, he’d been given the cold shoulder. The idea of stepping into another space where he might be rejected again didn’t sit well.

That night, his father talked with him. He reminded Sammy that no one else should get to decide what he enjoyed or what he was capable of. “If you love it,” his father said, “then do it. Don’t let them take that from you.”

Sammy took the leap.

It led to his first high school home run—a moment of triumph. But it came with an unexpected twist: a collision at home plate sent him to the emergency room and earned him an overnight stay in the hospital. Painful, yes—but also unforgettable. For the first time, Sammy felt like he belonged to something bigger than himself.

There was a knock on the door of the hospital room Sammy had been transferred to from the ER. Before Sammy or his father, Billy, could respond, Coach Parker stepped inside.

“I hope I’m not interrupting anything,” he said, offering a friendly smile. “I’m Dale Parker, Sammy’s baseball coach.”

Billy stood and shook his hand. “Thanks for calling me at work and letting me know about Sammy’s injuries.”

“No problem, sir. I would do the same for any of my players—but especially for the hero of today’s game,” Dale said, flashing a proud smile at Sammy.

“You were right about the injuries,” Billy replied, settling back into his chair and motioning to the one beside him. “The doctor doesn’t think it’s a concussion, and he’ll probably be released tomorrow.”

“That’s great news,” Dale said. “I’ll stand if you don’t mind. I can only stay a minute—there are a few boys out in the waiting room who wanted to come by and see Sammy for themselves. They were pretty worried.”

He walked over to Sammy’s bedside, his expression softening. “You gave us all a scare, kid. But that home run? That was something special.”

“Sammy, you did really well today—and I don’t just mean that homer,” Coach Parker said, his voice warm with pride. “You’re a smart ballplayer. You understand the game better than most men twice your age. Keep improving, and there is no limit to how far you can go.”

Sammy, slightly embarrassed but clearly moved, met the coach’s eyes. “Thanks, Coach. That means a lot coming from you. It feels good to know you noticed—and that you took the time to come by and check on me.”

Suppressing a chuckle, Coach Parker nodded. “I’m not the only one, Sammy. There are a few boys out in the waiting room who wanted to see you for themselves. If it is alright with you, Mr. Day, I would like to let a few come in for a quick visit.”

“Please, call me Billy,” Sammy’s father replied, standing to shake the coach’s hand. “And if Sammy’s up for it, I’m fine with a few at a time.”

“I’m cool with it, Dad,” Sammy said, though he felt a little uneasy with all the attention. Still, a part of him was quietly grateful—for the first time, it felt like he was truly part of the team.

Sammy was surprised by how many teammates came to visit him. But what truly thrilled him—what lit up his face with a smile he couldn’t contain—was when James Walker walked in, followed by Mike, the boy Sammy had briefly regained consciousness beside after the collision.

“Wow… hi,” Sammy said, his voice soft but full of warmth as he took in Mike’s appearance.

Both James and Mike smiled and replied in unison, “Hi.”

Then Mike’s expression turned serious. He stepped closer and asked, “How’re you doing? You had me—I mean, us—worried back at school.”

Sammy’s cheeks flushed at Mike’s concern. “Yeah, I’m good. I have to stay overnight, but the doctor said I will probably get to go home tomorrow.”

James chuckled and ruffled Mike’s hair. “I see you’ve met my little brother.”

Sammy glanced at Mike, then turned back to James with a smile. “Kind of. We’ve never been properly introduced, though.”

James grinned. “Well, let us fix that. Allow me to introduce you to my younger sibling and your biggest fan today, Michael James Walker. Mike, this is my teammate and today’s hero, the bloodied victim of a cowardly attack, Samuel Taima Day.” James laughed and said, “Don’t ask me what Taima means. I have no idea. You’ll have to ask Sammy that question.”

Mike gave a shy smile, and Sammy nodded, feeling a strange but welcome warmth in his chest. For the first time in a long time, he felt truly seen—not just as a player, but as a person.

“Well then,” James said with a playful bow.

Sammy’s face flushed even deeper. He answered the unspoken question, his voice barely above a whisper. “Thunder. It means Thunder.”

“Cool. What language is it?” Mike asked, eyes wide with curiosity.

“Indian. I’m not sure which tribe—probably Lakota. I’ve been told my mother was full-blooded Native American,” Sammy said with a shrug. “Honestly, I kind of feel like I belong to all the tribes.”

“I think that’s amazing,” Mike said, smiling warmly.

Sammy believed him. It showed in the twinkle of Mike’s eyes, in the sincerity of his voice. He had only met Mike today, but something about him felt familiar—comforting. Having him nearby made Sammy feel good, like a light had been turned on inside.

James glanced at the clock and sighed. “Hate to break up this awesome conversation, but we were told not to stay more than a couple of minutes.”

“Yeah, we should let you rest,” Mike added. “It’s getting late, and I still have homework to finish. I’m just glad you weren’t hurt worse. I wish someone had stopped it from happening at all.”

There was sadness in Mike’s voice, and Sammy heard it clearly. It touched something deep inside him, something that had long been buried under years of isolation.

“I don’t think anyone could’ve stopped it, to be honest,” Sammy said, offering a small smile. “It happened so fast, I didn’t even know what was going on. But… thanks for helping. Evan could’ve really hurt me, especially since I was out cold after hitting my head.”

“Not a problem,” Mike said, bumping fists with him.

“Yeah, see you at practice, man,” James added, giving Sammy a fist bump of his own before gently tugging Mike toward the door. Mike glanced back over his shoulder, gave a small wave, and smiled.

The room felt quieter after they left, but not empty. Something had shifted.

Billy Day stayed with Sammy overnight in the private room. When morning came, they both woke up with growling stomachs.

“I don’t know about you, son,” Billy said with a grin, stretching in his chair, “but I could eat the south end of a northbound cow this morning.”

He chuckled at his own joke.

Sammy laughed too. “Yeah, me too, Dad.”

After breakfast and an early lunch, the doctor came in to examine Sammy one last time. He was released with general instructions: take it easy for a day or two and report any nausea or severe headaches at once. Since there was no sign of a concussion, Sammy was cleared to return to baseball activities—which made him as happy as a tick on a fat and lazy Tennessee hound dog.

The rest of the day dragged. Sammy suffered through a semi-boring afternoon at home, flipping through channels with nothing worth watching. Eventually, he picked up his English assignment, To Kill a Mockingbird. He wasn’t a fan of living in the past, but he believed that if you didn’t learn from it, you were doomed to repeat it.

That evening, Billy stopped by Little Caesar’s on his way home, and the two enjoyed pizza for dinner. Afterward, they settled into the living room to watch the University of Kentucky play in the Southeastern Conference Tournament. Win or lose, Kentucky was guaranteed a spot in the national tournament.

The Wildcats were undefeated, holding the number one spot in every preseason and regular-season poll. If they won out—including the national tournament—they’d finish with a perfect 40–0 record. The last time a team had gone undefeated was Indiana, back in the 1970s.

Up by twenty-three over Arkansas with only two and a half minutes left, it was clear Kentucky would be advancing in the single-elimination tournament.

Sammy stood and stretched. “Kentucky’s got this one. I think I’ll turn in. I’ve got practice after school tomorrow, so I’ll be late getting home.”

He leaned over and hugged his dad. “Love you.”

“Love you too, son. Sweet dreams,” Billy said, watching his boy walk away with quiet pride.

Friday at school dragged for Sammy. He couldn’t wait to be back on the field, playing the game, he loved—but that wasn’t why the day felt slower than a turtle on a lazy stroll. What really weighed on him was the absence of familiar faces.

He searched between classes and at lunch, but never saw Mike—or James, for that matter. Stranger still, Tony wasn’t in any of the classes they usually shared.

James was a senior, and they ran in different circles, often on opposite ends of the school building. As for Mike, Sammy realized he hadn’t thought to ask what grade he was in during their conversation at the hospital. And Tony… well, Sammy hoped he was okay. But considering Tony’s brother was Evan, he figured that he might have something to do with it.

With a couple of mysteries and no answers, Sammy found himself itching for baseball practice that afternoon. James and Tony should be there—and maybe, just maybe, he’d get some answers.

It was a bright, sunny day in early March—one of those rare afternoons that hinted at the beautiful days to come. But as the old saying goes, in like a lamb, out like a lion. Only time would tell if that tale held true this year.

Sammy had finished warm-ups and was now leaning against the side fence down the third base line. His eyes drifted upward to the cloudless sky, where a pair of chicken hawks circled lazily above the hill beyond the left field fence. He figured they’d found something dead up there, but his thoughts weren’t really on the hawks.

He was thinking about Mike.

James had shown up for practice, but Mike hadn’t come with him. And Tony was missing too. That bothered Sammy more than he wanted to admit. Evan’s temper was no secret—Sammy knew it well, having been on the receiving end just days ago. What still puzzled him was why. What had he done to make Evan so angry?

And more than that, Evan had looked mad at Tony too. Sammy couldn’t shake the feeling that something was going on, something he didn’t understand yet.

With questions swirling and no answers in sight, Sammy found himself itching for the rhythm of practice. James and Tony should be there. Maybe today, he’d get some clarity.

Yeah, Tony and Sammy had grown closer since baseball practice started a couple of weeks ago. But their friendship was mostly confined to school and team activities. They didn’t text or call each other, and they didn’t sit together at lunch. Still, Sammy had noticed that Tony was a naturally affectionate person—always quick with a pat on the back or a friendly nudge.

Maybe Evan had gotten the wrong idea.

That would explain the slur he’d thrown at Sammy during the incident. The word had stung—not just because of its cruelty, but because it came from a place of ignorance and hate. Sammy didn’t know what Evan thought he saw, or why it made him so angry. But whatever it was, it had clearly pushed him over the edge.

Sammy shook his head, trying to make sense of it. He didn’t know what was going on between Evan and Tony, but something wasn’t right. And the more he thought about it, the more he hoped Tony was okay.

“Hey, Taima,” Mike said, stepping up behind Sammy on the other side of the fence.

Startled from his thoughts, Sammy jumped slightly, then turned and smiled. “Hi yourself. I’m surprised you remembered.”

“What? That I remembered where the baseball field was?” Mike grinned.

“Nah—my middle name,” Sammy said, giving Mike a playful punch on the shoulder.

Mike rubbed his arm dramatically, as if he’d been hit hard. “Oh, I don’t think I’ll ever forget a name like Thunder. It used to scare me when I was a little kid.”

“Speaking of age—kind of,” Sammy said, tilting his head, “what grade are you in now?”

Mike straightened up and, in an exaggerated Southern belle accent, replied, “Why sir, you shouldn’t ask a gentleman his age.” Then, switching to a playful Irish lilt, he added, “Dontcha know?”

Sammy laughed, the tension from earlier melting away. Mike had a way of lightening the mood, and Sammy appreciated it more than he could say.

Sammy laughed at Mike’s antics. “I just hadn’t seen you around school today. Actually, I hadn’t noticed you at all until the other day.”

Mike smiled. “I’m a freshman. There’s a three-year gap between me and James.”

“Ah, that explains a lot,” Sammy said, nodding. “What class do you have sixth period that lets you be out here?”

“I’m an office aide,” Mike replied. “Honestly, I hate running errands, but I’ve got a note for Coach Parker. Maybe after school lets out, I can catch you for a bit before James and I head home.”

Sammy nodded. “Sure. I’d like that.”

They bumped fists, and Mike jogged off toward the coach, leaving Sammy with a smile and a little more light in his day.

The assistant coach split the team into outfielders and infielders. He hit grounders to the infielders and ran situational plays, while Coach Parker sent fly balls soaring to the outfielders. It felt a little different without Tony there, but Scott Williams stepped up and handled second base well.

Once the coaches were satisfied with the defensive drills, each player took his turn at bat. The rhythm of practice was familiar, grounding—but something felt off.

After everyone had hit, Coach Parker called the team into the dugout.

“Boys,” he began, his tone more serious than usual, “you may not have heard yet, but you’ve probably noticed Tony Thompson hasn’t been in school the last couple of days.”

The team quieted, eyes turning toward the coach.

“He was found last night in the woods behind his house and taken to the hospital.”

A wave of shock rippled through the dugout. Sammy felt his stomach drop.

“If anyone knows anything about this,” Coach Parker continued, “please come see me after practice.”

He paused, letting the weight of the news settle.

“Our next game is Monday. The school will dismiss sixth period so the student body can attend. We’ll be playing Fleming-Neon, so make sure your parents know about the early start time in case they want to come.”

As soon as the team meeting broke up, Sammy approached Coach Parker.

“Coach, I don’t know what happened at Tony’s,” he said, his voice low but steady. “I was home all day yesterday after I got out of the hospital. But… with the way his brother was acting the other day, I can’t help but wonder if it’s connected somehow.”

Coach Parker looked at him for a long moment, then nodded slowly. “I do too, Sammy. I do too.”