Obi-Wan is forced to join a baseball league.  This is what happens when you work the concession stand for a baseball tournament when business isn't so great and you've got Obi-Wan on your mind.  Just think of little Jedi playing baseball?  Does something just seem funny about that to anyone else?  Okay, just me…I'll go hide in the corner now…

A/N:  No, really this is a really big departure from the angst piece I've already posted.  And I know it's probably not funny, but I don't know.  It seems pointless to just let this stuff sit on my hard drive.  Some of the lines in here are a little out of character—but that's what happens when I try to write humor…things just get really, really weird…By the way, I'm looking for a beta reader, anyone interested?  Drop me a line fayedartmouth@hotmail.com.  Thanks!

Disclaimer:  I've come to the point where I've decided that disclaimers are really very pointless things.  I mean, does anyone out there actually think that I am laying claim to these characters?  I mean, is George Lucas really threatened by my pokey little fanfiction?  (can fan fiction be pokey is the better question?)  I mean SERIOUSLY.  If I owned these characters, I wouldn't be writing fan fiction now, would I?  So, come on, Mr. Lucas, you're not really worried about this are you?

Take Me Out to the Ball Game

The day was waning quickly on Coruscant, and Obi-Wan was slightly thankful to be back in the Temple, where he could sleep in his own bed and be around people he knew.  His mission with Qui-Gon to the small planet of Elsor had been long and fairly uneventful, and it was a relief to be in a familiar place once again.  He was even somewhat thankful for Qui-Gon's cooking—while it wasn't by any means good, it was at least mostly recognizable.

So the pair sat, eating the Vartar soup Qui-Gon had made that night.  They had already had their briefing with the Council, and the duo was set for some down time at the Temple to continue Obi-Wan's studies and to recuperate.  They had spent the meal discussing the mission, analyzing what went well and what could have been better.  Qui-Gon had been sure to start off with the positives of his apprentice's performance, but the time was coming for him to be a bit more critical.  Enough time had lapsed that Obi-Wan could more accurately see his actions, and Qui-Gon hoped he would be receptive to the suggestions.

"Obi-Wan, while your usage of the Force has improved drastically, there are a few things I am concerned about," Qui-Gon said before shoveling another bite of food into his mouth.

Obi-Wan hid his surge of anxiousness.  "Yes, Master?" he asked, dutifully.

"Well, it is about your attitude toward the Elsorians," Qui-Gon explained.  "While they were not nearly as technologically advanced or sociologically refined as most of the species we've come across, that does not give us the right to consider them a lesser species."

"I showed the Elsorians nothing but respect," Obi-Wan said defensively.

"To their faces, yes, Padawan, but do not think I didn't pick up on your condescending tone from time to time or the snide comments behind their backs.  You thought you were better than they were."

Obi-Wan reddened, trying to rationalize his behavior.  "But, Master—"

"What?" Qui-Gon said, raising his eyebrows.  "You are better than they are?"

To this, Obi-Wan had no defense.

"Padawan, it is not our place to judge.  We are all joined in the Force.  'Better' and 'worse' have no real meaning.  We must look upon all beings in the same light, granting neither glory nor shame on any creature."

Obi-Wan looked dejected.  "Yes, Master."

"I think this is something you need to work on."

"Yes, Master," he replied, stirring his soup distantly.

"In fact, the Council suggested a rather unique exercise to help you overcome this," Qui-Gon said, trying to sound vaguely enthusiastic.

Obi-Wan met Qui-Gon's eyes with hope and skepticism.

"I have signed you up to play baseball," Qui-Gon announced.

"Baseball?"

"Yes, baseball."

"Umm…what is baseball?"

"Baseball?" Qui-Gon asked, shocked.  "You don't know what baseball is?"

Obi-Wan looked confused.  "No…," he said slowly.

"It's…it's baseball!" Qui-Gon replied in disbelief.

"Thank you, Master," Obi-Wan said sarcastically.  "It makes so much sense now."

"Everyone knows what baseball is."

"I don't," Obi-Wan said sullenly.

"It's the galaxy's greatest pastime!" Qui-Gon said.

Obi-Wan still looked blank.  Qui-Gon sighed.  "What is this galaxy coming to when young boys don't know what baseball is?" he asked, shaking his head.

"I don't know, Master.  Perhaps we should call an emergency session of the Senate to discuss this tragic development."

Qui-Gon cast an annoyed glare at his Padawan.  "That's enough from you," he said sternly.  "Finish your dinner and then do you meditation.  Be up bright and early tomorrow morning so I can show you the basics of the game before your first practice."

Defeated, Obi-Wan sighed.  "Yes, Master," he said, taking another spoonful of his dinner.

As promised, early the next morning after breakfast and meditation, Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan headed down to the recreation room of the Temple.  It was vacant, and Qui-Gon went over to the storage closet to find the equipment.  He pulled out a bat, two gloves, and a bucket full of balls.

"This seems awfully primitive, doesn't it?" Obi-Wan asked, skeptically.  "Isn't there any technology involved?"

"No, Padawan.  This sport has been around for centuries without technological interference."

"Right.  So what do we do?"

Picking up the gloves, Qui-Gon gave one to Obi-Wan.  "Here," he said.  "Put this on your hand."

Obi-Wan did so, looking at the mitt without much confidence.  "Why do we need this?"

"So we can catch the ball of course," Qui-Gon said.

"Why don't we just use our hands?"

"Because the balls are hard.  It would hurt."

"Master, I've experienced far worse pain than being hit with a ball."

"It also makes the ball easier to catch."

"Umm…okay," Obi-Wan said reluctantly.

"Good," Qui-Gon said, picking up the ball.  "Now.  We're going to play catch."

"Play catch?"

"Yes, I'll throw the ball to you, and you catch it and throw it back to me."

"I thought we were here to play baseball but now we're playing catch?  Is catch different than baseball?"

Qui-Gon rolled his eyes.  "It's just terminology, Obi-Wan.  Playing catch is just part of warming up."

"Oh."

"Okay.  You ready?"

"I guess."

Qui-Gon threw the ball to Obi-Wan, who caught it easily.  He then picked up the ball, eyeing it curiously.  "Very good!" Qui-Gon said approvingly.  "Now throw it back to me."

Mimicking Qui-Gon's throw, Obi-Wan threw the ball perfectly back to Qui-Gon, who caught it with ease.  They do this several more times before Obi-Wan gets somewhat restless.

"What is the purpose this exercise, Master?" he finally asked.

"It's a warm-up," Qui-Gon explained.

"In what sense?"

"It is getting us prepared to play baseball."

"This is hardly anything involving any real skill.  I could have done this when I was three.  How is this minimal concentration hand-eye coordination physical exertion going to prepare me for anything?"
               

Qui-Gon looked perturbed.  "It's just so you get a feel for the ball and the glove," he said. 

"The use of the glove seems unnecessary," Obi-Wan pointed out. "It would be more efficient to catch the ball with my right hand so I could release it quicker."

"For most people that is not possible.  The force of the ball would injure the hand."
               

"But I am a Jedi."

"You cannot always rely on the Force."

"Of course, Master.  So I should learn this way so when I am capture and my ability to use the Force is dampened, I will still prevail when my assailants subject me to a grueling game of Force-less baseball," he concluded mockingly.  "What is the galaxy coming to?" 

Qui-Gon could not stifle his sigh.  Obi-Wan looked ready to say more, but Qui-Gon stopped him, saying, "Okay, I think we've had enough catch for now."

"You sure?  I'm not sure I feel totally comfortable with the concept of throwing and catching yet.  Just because I can use a lightsaber with sufficient efficiency doesn't mean that I am prepared for the strenuous game of baseball."  Obi-Wan's voice dripped with sarcasm.  He was never very receptive to things he saw as frivolous as Qui-Gon was very aware he felt of this assignment to play baseball.

"Enough, Padawan," he ordered.  "Most of everything is about perspective.  Unless you have an open mind, you will never learn and you will never succeed."

Quelling the urge to retort, Obi-Wan settled for a obedient, "Yes, Master."

"I think you now understand the basics of catching.  Let us move on to batting," Qui-Gon announced.  He picked up two bats and walked over to Obi-Wan, handing him one.

Eyeing it with disdain, Obi-Wan could not stop himself from asking, "Do we get to bludgeon each other with these from the boredom?" 

Not responding, Qui-Gon took up the batting stance.  "Stand like this, Padawan," he instructed.  Obi-Wan reluctantly obeyed.

"Wonderful.  But why am I standing like this?"

"So I can pitch the ball to you."

"Of course.  What do I do when you pitch it?"

"You try to hit it, of course, Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon said.  He moved back away from Obi-Wan.  "We'll start off with some slow pitches until you get the feel for this.  Now, I'm going to throw the ball.  Be sure to watch it all the way."

Qui-Gon threw a perfect pitch, down the middle, not too fast, not too slow.  Obi-Wan looked fully concentrated but simply watched as the ball sailed by him.  "Padawan, what are you doing?" Qui-Gon asked, frustrated and perplexed.

"I was watching the ball, just like you told me to, Master," Obi-Wan said sincerely.

Rolling his eyes, Qui-Gon sighed.  "You're supposed to watch the ball until it hits your bat, Obi-Wan."

"But you threw it in front of me.  It was no where near my bat."

"You're supposed to swing the bat to meet the ball.  You need to watch the ball in order to make sure the bat connects."

"Oh.  Why didn't you say so?"

Qui-Gon sighed again.  Calling another ball to his hand, he said, "Let's try again."

"Can we?" Obi-Wan muttered.

"Keep your focus on the game," Qui-Gon admonished, shutting the boy up effectively.  He threw another perfect pitch.  Obi-Wan swung, hitting the ball squarely and sending it over Qui-Gon's head, hitting the back of the room.  "Very nice," Qui-Gon observed.

"Again, Master, this is not exactly difficult."

"I am pitching easy to you," Qui-Gon warned.  "Let's try it with some harder pitches."

"I am ready," Obi-Wan said confidently.

Qui-Gon changed up his pitching slighting, making it slightly faster, more inside.  Still, Obi-Wan hit the ball easily.  "Let's try a little bit harder, shall we?" Qui-Gon prompted.  Obi-Wan didn't decline.  They continued, Qui-Gon's pitches becoming more difficult, Obi-Wan's concentration heightening.  He was impressed with Obi-Wan's success, but also slightly determined to give the boy something he couldn't hit.  He wound up, throwing a vicious curve ball that wavered about before crossing the plate.  He was ultimately pleased with the pitch but his pleasure was turned to annoyance as Obi-Wan slammed the ball to the back of the gym.  He narrowed his eyes at Obi-Wan, not set on making the boy whiff.  Obi-Wan sensed the change in the demeanor of his master, also digging himself more deeply into the activity, drawing on the Force to track to pitches.

Soon Qui-Gon was pitching with a speed only a Jedi could muster, and Obi-Wan was sweating with the exertion it took to keep up with his master's maniacal pitches.  Finally, so frustrated, Qui-Gon threw a pitch so fast he could barely see it leave his hand.  And as he realized that Obi-Wan would still meet the pitch, he focused on the ball, using the Force to stop it just before the plate.  Only a micro-second had passed, and Obi-Wan, unable to adapt, swung fiercely, only to miss completely.  The force of the swing flung him off balance and he twisted ungracefully to the ground.

Qui-Gon was unabashedly satisfied.  "Easy, huh?" he asked.

Obi-Wan glared up at his master.  "That wasn't fair," he said.

"Don't sulk, Obi-Wan.  It is not becoming of Jedi."

"You play dirty," Obi-Wan said, picking himself up.

It was childish, but Obi-Wan's behavior had rubbed off on him for the moment.  Even masters needed to have their personal satisfaction.  "You did well, Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon said, moving closer to him.  "But there is still much you need to know about baseball."

"Like?"

"The rules."

"Of course."

Qui-Gon led his apprentice to the screen on the wall.  Touching it, he activated a baseball program which laid out a typical field.  "Now," he began.  "In baseball there is an entire league of teams.  They each have their own stadium where they practice and where their fans are generally situated by."

"Kind of like the Republic?" Obi-Wan asked.  "Where each planet is its own but together they form something more."

"Kind of," Qui-Gon said slowly.  "Only planets in the Republic don't combat each other in sports."

"No, but they do in trade and negotiation."

Qui-Gon cocked his head.  "I do believe this is somewhat different, Padawan."

"Does it really matter what they are doing--there is still in interaction and isn't that the essence of both sports and interplanetary negotiations?"

"But there are no rules in negotiation."

"Of course there are—the Senate has made them," Obi-Wan protested.  "They just don't always obey them.  Kind of like in baseball when certain masters see the need to change the game to their own liking."

"We're getting off topic," Qui-Gon said abruptly.   

"Sorry," Obi-Wan muttered.

"Now, like I was saying, there are many teams but during a game, only two teams are present.  There is a home team, the team of the stadium where the game is being played, and the visiting team, a team from a different stadium.  This is the field.  There are four bases, as you can see."

"Yes, Master."

Pleased at his Padawan's attention, he continued, "During the game, one team is in the field with their players positioned in certain places.  The other team is at bat.  When you are at bat, you wish to hit the ball so you may circle the bases and score.  While you are in the field, you wish to prevent the other team from running the bases and scoring."

"How do you stop them from scoring?"

"I am getting there," Qui-Gon said.  "First we must look at the position of the players of the field.  The field is divided into two sections—the infield and the outfield."

"Aren't both parts of the field actually both inside though?  I mean, there is no wall between them, is there?"

"No, of course not.  It's a relative description, coined for convenience."

"Speaks so highly of those who invented the game…"

Qui-Gon glared and Obi-Wan quieted.  Satisfied, Qui-Gon went on.  "There is a player assigned to each base—hence a first baseman, a second baseman and a third basement.  The fourth base is called home base and the player there is called the catcher."

"Does this person excel in the game of catch?"

"In a sense," Qui-Gon said dryly, noting Obi-Wan's sarcastic tone.  "He catches the balls thrown by the pitcher, who is stationed here in the center of the infield on the mound."

"Why is he on a mound?  Does that denote his significance to the game?"

"I believe it is more of a logistical placement."

"If you don't know, just say so, Master."

"Obi-Wan, you are trying my patience.  I suggest you control your tongue before you provoke me any further."

"Sorry, Master," Obi-Wan said meekly.

Inhaling deeply, Qui-Gon calmed visibly.  "The other player in the infield is the shortstop, positioned between 2nd and 3rd base."

"Why is it called the shortstop?  Must this person be short?"

"No, it refers to the shorter distance required to throw from the position.  It makes the distance to the other bases shorter and more accessible during a play."

"Ah, I see.  Why isn't there one between 1st and 2nd?"

"Because there isn't, Padawan.  That would be too easy."

"And we don't want this to be easy."

"We didn't make up the rules," Qui-Gon snapped.  "We're just trying to learn them."

"Yes, Master."

"So, that leaves the outfield.  This area of the field is roughly divided into three parts, covered by the left fielder, the center fielder and the right fielder.  Do you understand?"

"Of course, Master."

"Good.  Now.  The team that is batting has an order to which their players bat.  And they each go up to home plate and try to hit the pitches thrown by the pitcher to the catcher's glove."

"What happens when they hit the ball?"

"Good question, Obi-Wan.  Well, if the ball is caught in the air, the batter is automatically out.  However, if it touches the ground first, the batter must run to first base.  The fielder who retrieves the ball will throw it to first in effort to beat the runner.  If the base is tagged before the runner can touch the base, the runner is out and must return to the bench.  However, if the runner beats the ball, he is safe and gets to remain on the base."

"I understand."

"Good.  It gets more complicated though," Qui-Gon warned.

"I survived Temple training.  I think I can handle the rules of baseball."

"Assuming the runner is on first now, a second batter comes up to the plate.  If this batter hits the ball, the runner on first must be sure that the ball touches the ground before he runs to second."

"Why?"

"Otherwise the runner could have an unfair advantage," Qui-Gon said.  Obi-Wan looked dissatisfied, but remained silent.  "However, if the ball hits the ground and the fielder throws the ball to second before the runner from first can arrive, the runner is out by force."

"Force?  As in the Living Force?" Obi-Wan perked up.

"No, as in baseball terminology."

"Oh," Obi-Wan said, sounding disappointed.

"Force outs occur when consecutive bases starting with first are filled.  There is always a force out a first, and when there are runners on every base, there can be force outs at every base.  However, if a runner is on third and another is on second, there are no force outs except on first."

"And here I thought baseball was a Force-forsaken game.  Little did I realize that the Force is everywhere in this game!" he exclaimed dryly.

Completely at his wits end with Obi-Wan, Qui-Gon turns off the screen.  "Okay, I think you know enough about baseball to not make an idiot of yourself at your first practice."

"Thank you for the confidence."

"Come on.  Let's get you into your uniform so you can go meet your new team," Qui-Gon said, heading to the exit.

Following after him, Obi-Wan had new things to worry about.  "Uniform?" he asked nervously, unsure of just what the practice would hold.

"Yes, Obi-Wan.  Now, hurry up.  Take me out to the ball game…take me out to the crowd."

"Master?"

"Buy me some peanuts and cracker jacks."

"Cracker jacks?"

"I don't care if I ever get back," Qui-Gon recited, having too much fun messing the Obi-Wan's mind to stop now.

"I don't care if I ever get there!"

"Come on, Obi-Wan, where's you're spirit?"

"I think I left it on Elsor!"