Title: Westport, Connecticut 1972
Author: Elizabeth Bennet-Darcy
Disclaimer: They are not mine for keeps. I'll just borrow them, play very carefully and put them back unharmed (relatively).
Summary: The senior staff, plus two, on the day before their tenth birthdays. Mainly focuses on their relationships with their fathers.
Spoilers: Various episodes, but nothing too telling.
Rating: PG13 for the series; PG for this story. tissue alert. (P.S. I know October is a little late to be playing little league but I had to make it near Josh's birthday.)
WESTPORT, CONNECTICUT 1972
Josh knew the sound of the ball hitting a bat. He knew the difference between a grounder and a pop-up. He knew the difference between a foul and a homer. This was a foul. He shot up from his crouched position like a rocket, pushing his catcher's mask to the top of his head on the way. His brown eyes quickly found the white sphere. He ran about six yards and the ball fell into his mitt. "OUT!"
Josh sighed as he trotted back to the dugout with the rest of his team. They were still six runs down. He looked resentfully at the boys who were patting his back and complimenting him. Why couldn't he be in a competitive league this year? Why did he have to be in a league where everybody got to play, even the kid who still held the bat by the wrong end? How was he supposed to win with teammates like that?
Josh looked up into the bleachers; five rows up, five seats in he found his dad. That was his dad's seat. It had been since Josh's first t-ball game five years earlier. No matter what case Noah Lyman was arguing he had never missed one of Josh's games. Today Noah sat in a neatly pressed suit with a light trench coat to ward off the October chill. He wore a fedora that would have made Joanie roll her eyes.
Josh's breath hitched in his chest as he thought of Joanie. She would have been down at the football field watching the high school football team practice instead of watching Josh on his road to the major leagues. When they got into the car after the game, and after fighting about who got to sit in front, Josh would have told his dad about having seen Joanie talking to a group of varsity football players. Joanie would have pulled at the fine hairs at the nape of Josh's neck to shut him up and try to convince her father that she had been watching the marching band. Her private school didn't have a marching band.
But Joanie would never be able to bemoan the fact that she had to go to private school; she'd never flirt with football players or pull Josh's hair ever again. Josh blinked quickly to stop the tears that threatened. People were calling his name and he realized that it was his turn to bat.
He slid off the bench and walked slowly out of the dugout. When Jimmy "Wrong-End" Lane shoved a bat at Josh, for him to use, it poked Josh's ribs. Josh got mad, inexplicably, furiously mad. He was mad that his house burned down. He was mad that his sister died. He was mad that he had to be on this loser team. He was mad that his ribs hurt. Josh gripped the bat with white knuckles and swung. Josh knew the sound of a ball hitting a bat; he knew the sound of a home run. He knew he'd just hit it out of the park.
When Josh reached home plate his teammates piled on top of him laughing, clapping and cheering. They were going to lose. They had two outs and "Wrong-End" Lane was up next, but they had never seen a nine-year-old hit the ball over the fence. Josh shrugged his congratulators off and sank into the corner of the dugout to await the end of the game and defeat.
Mere seconds later, he was lining up to shake hands with the other team. Josh could think of ten thousand things he'd rather be doing, but the only time he had ever gotten into real trouble with his father was for be a bad sport. His hand barely touched the boys' from the other team and he didn't move his lips as he mumbled, "Good game."
In the parking lot Josh found his dad standing by the car, beaming proud. "That was fantastic, Slugger."
"We lost," Josh answered sullenly.
"Yeah, but you played great. You played the best game you could and you really helped your team. That's as much as any of us can do," Noah said unlocking the passenger door.
Josh hesitated a moment before he climbed in. By the time his dad had gotten into the driver's seat Josh was sitting with his glove between his knees, shivering. His eyes blinked rapidly to keep from crying. Beside him Noah sighed. Josh felt Noah put his arm around him and pull him against his side. The softness of Noah's coat and the smell of his pipe and cologne were too much for Josh and hot tears cascade down his cheeks.
"It's okay, son," Noah whispered, kissing his son's head. "It's okay to miss her and it's okay to cry. Nothing could ever make me not be proud of you."
Josh let himself cry into his dad's coat. He'd cry all he wanted today. Tomorrow he would stop crying, because tomorrow Josh would turn ten.