"You can't catch me!" Exclaimed an awkward 5 year old Jules Bashir, arms and legs flailing about as he ran by the boy who was 'it'.
A group of his classmates were playing tag, screaming and laughing on the school playground. One of them stopped him.
"You can pretend, but you aren't really playing with us," said the boy and then ran off to play.
It hurt Jules' feelings, but he continued to run around with the others deciding that he could too play. Not one of them acknowledged him again though. Not even a glance. He tried to pretend like he was a part of them, but it wasn't any fun being ignored. He stopped running and stood there and watched for a bit as the other kids ran and played. It was like he was invisible.
Jules lowered his head and slowly walked away. 'Why can't nobody like me?'
Jules wondered that everyday of his lonely, young life.
The following year, 6 year old Jules was struggling mightily in first grade. His teacher, Mrs. Peterson, had given them a test on the first day to assess their skills. To see how much they retained after the summer break. He looked down at the PADD and saw numbers and symbols. They meant nothing to him. He glanced around at his mates and they were all counting their fingers and writing answers on their PADDS.
"How are you doing, Jules?" asked Mrs. Peterson looking at over his shoulder.
"Uhm, I don't understand," He shyly admitted.
"Oh come on, Jules, nobody's that stupid."
Jules felt embarrassed. The other children noticed Mrs. Peterson's example that it was ok to treat the him differently. That he was less than the rest of them. Jules didn't understand much, but he understood he was unworthy of respect. He felt shame.
Most of his classmates ignored him. A handful, though, took advantage of the teacher's apathy towards Jules and began bullying him. Mrs. Peterson turned a blind eye to the pushing, the name calling, even the PADDS smacking him in the head to the point he'd nearly lose consciousness.
Jules could never concentrate at school and stopped paying attention. Instead, he sought solace in his imagination.
He daydreamed about various scenarios in which he was always the hero.
He'd fantasize about saving all the kids in school and his family too.
He fantasized he was liked and had friends.
Richard Bashir hadn't meant to say such awful things to his wife, Amsha. Especially right in front of Jules. 'Great job, Richard. You've done it again you idiot. Oh shut up', he thought to himself.
The evening before, Jules was struggling with his homework again. Richard was still reeling from a meeting with Mrs. Peterson in which she called the boy incompetent and would likely need to be taken care of all his life. She recommended he go to a special school. Similar things had been thought of Richard back in the day. He too, was dismissed growing up. He didn't like to look into that dark place of pain and insecurity. He buried the memories deep down, but it influenced his daily life all the same.
It's influence could be seen when he exaggerated his job importance.
It influenced him when he lost his temper seeing Jules struggle in the same ways he once did.
It influenced his angry words towards his wife blaming her for Jules' shortcomings:
'Maybe he's your fault! You weren't careful enough when you were pregnant! Now we have an imbecile for a son!'
He didn't know what he'd been thinking.
He never truly would because he refused to examine his own life.
He kept bullshitting himself.
Richard Bashir was a legend in his own mind.
He was wise enough to know he couldn't act like nothing happened this time.
Not after that fight.
Not when after his stinging words to his wife, Jules had innocently asked them why nobody could ever love him. Amsha had grabbed her son in a fierce hug and carried him out of the room.
Richard slept on the couch last night.
He finally arrived home with a wrapped gift in hand. Jules was excited to learn it was for him. He had his Mother hold Kukalaka and eagerly opened it grinning ear to ear. Amsha smiled at her sweet, good natured son, but not at Richard.
"Thanks, Dad! I always wanted this!" Jules exclaimed as he pulled the leather glove out of the box.
"Do you know what that is, Jules?" Richard asked.
"No."
"It's for a game I created just for you. I've named it baseball!"
"Wow! You made game for me?"
"That's right. Out back there are balls and a bat too. I'll teach you how to play."
Jules was busy putting his face in the glove and smelling the new leather.
"Son, look at me and listen," Richard said as he removed the glove from Jules' face. "I signed you up for a baseball team. If you work hard at this game you're going to make friends."
Jules' eyes lit up and his jaw dropped.
"Friends? Me?"
Jules had always wished for a real friend. In his daydreams he had friends.
He went out back with his Father and played his heart out. In his mind, there was finally a clear cut way to get others to like him.
Amsha watched and couldn't help but smile as Jules and Richard both threw the ball back and forth, neither one of them able to catch it. Both of them were tripping over their own two feet.
Days later, Jules was at his first real baseball practice. The teammates all introduced themselves to each other.
"I'm Jules Bashir! My Dad made baseball for me!" he exclaimed. The rest of the children laughed. Jules wasn't sure why they were laughing at him, but he knew he'd make them like him.
"Ok, Mr. Baseball, let's see what you've got. Grab a bat," said the coach.
Jules heart started beating very quickly as he stepped into the batters box.
His palms were sweaty.
To him, this was it.
This was the moment he thought could change his life.
All he has to do is hit the ball and nobody would hurt him anymore. 'Others will like me'.
He was about to throw up from anxiety over what was at stake.
The ball was softly pitched his way and he wildly swung the bat and missed.
Again and again he missed.
No matter what the coach said he swung more and more wildly trying to hit the ball.
The coach finally brought out the tee for Jules.
He was so panicked on the inside he couldn't even hit the ball off the tee.
Tears were streaming down his face.
He couldn't help it.
To this 6 year old, all was lost:
He will never have a friend. He will never be liked. Nobody will ever love him.
Afterwards, his Father told him it was the coaches fault. He told Jules the other kids were just jealous because his Dad invented baseball and theirs didn't.
"Just imagine how they felt knowing you have such an accomplished Dad! Trust me on this, Jules. You keep working hard and you will turn out to be as great as me some day."
That was the moment Amsha Bashir decided to contact her cousin on Adigeon Prime.
Epilogue
Right Fielder for the Deep Space Niners, number 22, Julian Bashir stepped up to the plate.
His heart unexpectedly started racing.
His palms were sweating.
He was trying to will himself to calm down.
Even though he had mastered controlling his own vital signs, he couldn't control this anxiety attack of some sort coming on.
He didn't understand why he was having these feelings.
To everyone's surprise, the genetically enhanced Doctor struck out on three pitches. Nobody more surprised than Julian himself.
He did the walk of shame back to the dugout.
He sat down on the bench next to Miles who was staring at him with his mouth open.
"What the hell was that?"
"I struck out." Julian replied flatly and not looking at him. He knew what he was feeling was irrational. He took a deep breath and tried to push it away.
Miles shook his head, chuckled a bit. 'The man's got ice in his veins in the heat of battle, but this rattles him?', he thought.
"Here," Miles said, holding out his pack of gum, "this'll take the edge off."
Julian looked at the gum and then up to Miles. The anxious feelings he had dissolved. He smiled warmly.
"Why thank you, my friend," said Julian and then grabbed a couple sticks of the heavily scotch infused gum.
The two friends sat together getting buzzed on chewing gum while cheering on their teammates.