Another meaningless day is passing today
In baseball, players of well-rounded skills are most valuable, that's why most first years don't really get to play in games. They would be skilled enough come the second semester of their second year, maybe. But others never even get to take up the bat even as they're nearing graduation.
Yamamoto Takeshi isn't like any of those players. He came, he scored and he smiled, asking to play in games. The kid was no joke, but the way he carried himself wasn't like how a genius would, which are the types which he as a coach really dislikes, he carried himself as if he'd been training with the team for over two years. A baseball ace cultivated from hard work and practice.
His addition to the team had been the best move yet. Not only does he bring in homeruns but he always manages to lift up the team morale just by standing on the pitch with his casual smile.
Really, there should be nothing lacking about Yamamoto Takeshi. But.
As he's said, in baseball, a well-rounded player is vital. The player must field well, bat well, and cooperate with the team well.
He does all these things well enough but still, something is off.
Yamamoto, the poor boy, is not as well-rounded as he had first thought.
This thought had struck him when, clumps of the players pass by him, waving and yelling about their win thanks to Yamamoto- talking about getting celebratory ice cream at the nearby combini. He laughs and ruffles some heads but he notices Yamamoto's absence, even though his name kept coming up in the group's chatter.
As he's locking up, the first time he'd done so for awhile since first years were generally tasked to do this, he finds where Yamamoto's been.
On the field, running, throwing and swinging the bat by himself, as if it was a routine that he had to religiously abide by. His clothes were still stained with dirt, the cold compress for his pitching arm long abandoned and the business side of his cleets, from what he can see, has been rubbed raw.
He approaches the boy, careful to do so slowly, the concentrated look on the boy's face almost making his eyes seem devoid of anything.
"Yamamoto?"
The boy turns his eyes to him; the coach barely stifles the urge to step back.
"It's late, you should go home and rest now. Your family must be worried by now." He urges the boy, willing him to drop the bat with his heeding command.
And the boy, and this was the first time he'd found Yamamoto to be incredibly creepy, he just tilts his head, smiles with the same empty eyes before saying; "Mom understands, and they will too."
Yamamoto was not well-rounded, not in terms of skill, but in terms of stability. Based on his emotional state, a game could be lost or won. It's at this point that he, as a coach, should step in, get the boy some help.
But, he thinks as he looks at the players chattering excitedly across the field about their anticipated win with their ace Yamamoto, is one player more important than the whole team?
Coach Yamada always abided by the phrase there is no 'I' in team and Yamamoto wasn't the only one counting on him. The decision's already been made.
A/N: Chapter title taken from Wiing Wiing by Hyukoh