Title: America's Favorite Past Time
Author: Glorious Clio
Summary: After the events of "The Rocker in the Rinse Cycle," Bones needs to do some field research. Booth and Parker try and help her understand some findings. Rated K+ BB if you squint.
Author's Note: This is my first Bones fic, so please be kind. I am far outside of my comfort zone. This is based mostly on my love for baseball, (the fight for the post-season has me all excited) I am drawing from conversations with my younger cousin, who talks baseball with me, and a few of my friends, who don't. Due to unforeseen drama, this story is un-beta'd, so any mistakes are mine and mine alone!
"Well, it's baseball season sweetie; this is when boys like to hit balls with sticks when the snow melts. I don't know why."
o0O0o
"So, baseball," said Bones. Booth had just gotten a phone call from Rebecca, asking him to pick up Parker from school. They had just concluded another murder case, involving a rock star, a guitar and a wooly mammoth guitar pick. But Mr. Vaziri's passion for the sport intrigued her.
"What about it?" asked Booth, turning into the school's parking lot.
"I don't get it."
"What's not to get? The batter hits the ball, then they run around the bases, unless they get tagged out. Or they fly out. Or ground out. If they cross home, it counts as a run. Simple." He waved through the window at Parker, who was running up from the playground, dragging his backpack behind him. He opened the door and tumbled into the vehicle.
"No, I understand the rules. I just don't know why it's considered 'America's Favorite Past Time.'"
"Are we talking about baseball?" Parker asked brightly.
"Hi buddy, and no, because Bones doesn't understand baseball."
"Well I'm trying to understand it," defended Bones.
"You can't understand everything, Bones."
"She can understand baseball," said Parker loyally, buckling his seatbelt. "Especially if you're a genius like Dad says you are."
"See?" said Bones.
Booth sighed.
o0O0o
"I have three tickets to the Orioles vs Twins game on Sunday," Booth announced, strolling in to her office.
"What?" she looked up from her computer, utterly confused.
"Well, the only way to learn the game, according to Parker, is to watch the game."
"Baseball? That conversation was days ago. And can't we watch on television? I don't feel like driving an hour to watch boys 'hit balls with sticks.'"
"Well you won't, they hit the balls with bats, okay? And it was Parker's idea."
"Tell him thank you, but no, thank you.
"Uh-uh, no way. If you don't want to go, you have to tell him. To his face. Brown pleading puppy dog eyes, wibby chin…."
"Wibbly is not a word."
"You know what I mean, Bones."
Brennan sighed. "What teams are they again?"
"The Baltimore Orioles vs the Minnesota Twins," Bones answered with a grin.
o0O0o
"What is that?" demanded Booth when she opened the door on Sunday morning.
"A… file," she tried to evade the question. Her hair was pulled back in a ponytail, she was wearing jeans, black boots and a navy blue shirt. He was wearing an Orioles hat, a black shirt and jeans with his customary "cocky" belt buckle.
"You're bringing work to a baseball game?" Parker was incredulous; he looked like a die-hard Oriole's fan, all orange and black, complete with glove, in the back seat.
"No, it's… research, if you must know."
"For your next book?" asked Booth, turning into traffic.
"No, for the game today."
"Bones, you researched baseball?" Booth demanded again.
Parker exclaimed "Oh, my gosh," before pretending to pass out in the back seat, presumably from embarrassment.
"What?" she cried defensively. "The internet proved very helpful."
"And how many of those stats did you understand?" Booth mocked her.
"Enough to know the Twins are a better team," she replied, opening the file. "The Orioles only have one player that has an average of over .300. The Twins have three."
"Do you know what "an average" refers to, Bones?"
"I assumed it had something to do with hitting a ball with a stick," she replied scathingly.
Parker sighed dramatically in the back seat. "Dad was right, you don't understand baseball at all. The numbers are important all right, but you play with your heart, not a calculator. And it's mostly down to who has a better pitcher."
"Ah! Well, according to their team websites, only two Oriole pitchers have better winning records than losing, and the Twins have nine."
"Is this you competing?" asked Booth, slightly curious by the baseball stat spouting Bones. Sure, she was just quoting from her stats printouts from the team websites, but she was doing it pretty convincingly.
"But it's about guts," said Parker, bravely defending his beloved Orioles. "Sure, we might lose today, but that's not really the point."
"Then what is the point?"
"Having fun!"
"Well Joe Mauer probably has more fun than Matt Weiters. Mauer was MVP last year," she argued.
"Yeah, well the Yankees still won the World Series last year!"
The argument was going to get violent in a minute, and the first pitch hadn't even been thrown yet.
"Stop! Stop fighting. Right now. Parker, Bones can cheer for who ever she wants, if she wants her butt kicked after the game by Orioles fans."
"Whom ever," Bones corrected.
Booth glared at her. "Stop correcting everyone, and loosen up a bit. It's a baseball game, it's no skin off your back, no matter who wins or loses."
Both Bones and Parker huffed and sulked. Bones went back to her notes, Parker alternated between playing with the leather glove and staring out the window.
"Did you know that before 1961, the Twins were the Washington Senators? Technically, they're our home team."
"Whatever, the Orioles will still have the home field advantage. Everyone knows that the Twins suck when they're away from home."
Both scoffed at each other and the rest of the ride down to Baltimore was mercifully silent. Unfortunately, there were still nine full innings and an hour's drive back, which would probably prove to be just as painful. Booth just hoped this wouldn't all end up being some horrible mistake.
o0O0o
It was the top of the 5th inning, the Twins' first baseman was up to bat, and Bones was trying to quantify every little thing about the game. Booth was just trying to enjoy his popcorn, but he had to sit in the middle of Bones and Parker, to prevent any real fighting between the two.
"Ooh, they walked him," Parker said, disappointment evident in his voice.
"It's okay," Booth told him. "Maybe the next guy will hit into a double play."
"He has a name," said Bones, trying to support her new team.
"Well what is it then?" asked Parker disdainfully.
"Uh, number five…. Cuddyer," she reviewed her notes.
"That's a stupid name," Parker said, stealing some popcorn from Booth's bag.
"Those two hot dogs weren't enough for you?"
Parker shrugged and turned back to the game… just in time for Cuddyer to smack one to the outfield, earning a triple and knocking everyone else home.
"Cuddyer must not like it when you walk people," Bones remarked quietly, making a note in her files.
Parker sank down in his seat. Booth sighed. He'd hoped today would be a fun outing, to teach Bones about baseball, to tease her about her lack of social skills, to have an afternoon with Parker, but it was having the opposite effect. She was completely alienating for Parker, who wasn't used to her cold, clinical methods of seeing the world. When Parker played baseball, football, or hockey, it was because he thought it was fun, exhilarating, and because all his friends played too. Booth had been right all along: she would never truly understand the game, for all her stats and anthropologic insights.
"You wanna go get a souvenir?" he asked Parker.
"Sure."
The two got up and found the shop that sold t-shirts and bobble heads. Parker still looked annoyed at the entire situation.
"Cheer up, kid," said a random fan passing by, beer in hand. "We can still rally!"
"Yeah," Parker muttered.
Booth pulled him aside, out of the traffic of the fans getting snacks, using bathrooms and generally having a good time cheering for their team.
"You're not having very much fun, are you?" Booth asked, kneeling down. Parker scuffed his sneakers; the kid didn't even have to answer. "Look at me."
Parker reluctantly lifted his head and met his Dad's gaze.
"Remember what you said in the car, that the point of baseball is your guts? Your heart and soul?"
He nodded miserably.
"Well that holds true to the fans, too. Bones… she sees the world differently than we do. She likes the numbers, she likes to be able to know what happens next. But you and I, we know that it's important to have fun. We know what it's like to hit a ball with a bat. Bones has probably never played baseball. I mean, can you imagine her trying to field a grounder?"
Parker offered a smile. "No, probably not."
"Alright. So even though we're losing now, even though we might not win, we're still going to go laugh and yell and cheer and have a good time today. Because that's what it's about, and I'm sure every single player down there, Twin or Oriole, would say the same thing, okay bud?"
"Yeah, okay. I just hate losing!"
"Well then we just have to cheer all the louder. Now, c'mon, Bones has probably gotten herself in a lot of trouble," Booth stood up.
"Dad?"
"What?"
"Can I take her notes away?"
Booth grinned. "I'll even help you," he knelt down again to plan.
The two made their way back to their seats, trying to disturb as few fans as humanly possible. Parker would need to make a quick getaway. They sat down again, and after a few pitches (two strikes and a ball) Parker innocently asked, "Bones, can I see your notes?"
Bones studied Parker for a moment, sizing him up. She must have come to the conclusion that he wanted to simply look at the stats, because she closed the file and handed them over. Parker looked at them for a moment, as if considering them, the up and bolted, dodging legs and drinks and snacks. Bones leapt to her feet, meaning to chase after him, but Booth stood up and blocked her. He watched Parker run up the stairs to the nearest garbage can and dump the meaningful, but worthless stats away.
Bones could do nothing but glare daggers at him as Parker sauntered back to his seat.
"Now you have to watch the game," he said, calmly sitting down and taking a sip of his coke.
When Bones wasn't looking, Booth and Parker exchanged high fives.
o0O0o
As it happened, the Twins did defeat the Orioles, but Parker practically skipped back to the vehicle. The trio got in and settled down, adjusted seatbelts and were off again to DC.
"So the Twins won," began Bones. "I guess I picked the right team."
Parker sighed. "Bones, you're good at science and numbers and stuff, but did you see the players? Because they were having a lot of fun out there. That's the point of the game."
Bones sighed. "But I picked the superior team!"
Booth cut in. "Bones, no matter how much you want to think it, the Twins are not always the superior team. Sure, they won today, and they're supposed to be good this season, but the Orioles are not a bad team. You don't pick your team based solely on stats. Look at the Yankees, stats wise, they're the best in the league, they won the World Series last year, but a lot of people hate the Yankees."
"Well that's just jealousy," said Bones, already intending on looking up their stats when she got home.
"No, Bones," Parker interrupted. "They don't play like a team, they're not having fun out there. There are worse baseball teams that are more fun to watch. Do you understand that? Fun?" he teased.
"Of course I understand fun."
"Well what was more fun?" Booth asked, "Reading your notes, or watching the game?"
She thought for a minute… if she were honest with herself, watching the game, no matter who was batting, was exhilarating. But Bones couldn't quite let go her need to quantify even simple things like fun. Booth could see the inner conflict.
"Bones, you can say watching the game was fun. We won't tell."
"You know what I like about baseball?" Parker tried to prompt her, "I like that you play like a team defensively, but when you're on offense, it's between the batter and the pitcher."
"Yes, that is an interesting anthropological observation, Parker… very masculine ideals, socially… one man against nine… one against the world… holding a giant stick..."
Booth rolled his eyes. At least she could find joy in something….