Author: Merel Inglis

Synopsis: It's 2002 and Lee has thrown himself into being a supportive dad, as only Lee can. This is the 7th Story in the From Here to Paternity Series

Authors Notes: Apologies to the Indianapolis AlleyCats semi-professional ultimate disc team for the misuse of their logo (if you want to sue anyone, Ann made all the changes).
Thanks to my betas Eman, Ann, and Becky – any writer worth their salt has good betas to rely on and these gals are among the very best.

Put Me in, Coach

"I am not now, nor do I ever intend to be, a Bomber father."

Amanda skillfully threw those words at Lee as he tossed a bag of bats and two bags of softballs into the back of their Range Rover. He glanced over at her with a sour look. The woman had the memory of an elephant. "Technically, I'm an AlleyCats father. Not a Bomber father."

"I'm just pointing out the irony of the situation, that's all." Amanda chuckled, throwing a few more bottles of spring water into a giant cooler of ice that sat at her feet. "You went from that to getting matching AlleyCats shirts and ball caps, and then these . . ." she plucked at the very large button adorning her chest.

The button was a soft grey with bold green letters, proclaiming Slammin' Stetson! with a picture of their daughter, Lauren, her hazel eyes blazing out from behind the grill of a catcher's mask.

Lee drew himself up to his full height and adjusted his gray baseball cap, the AlleyCats logo staring menacingly above the brim. "Aa-man-da," he sighed. "That was a totally different time, different place."

"Right," his wife nodded, trying not to smile. "Totally different."

He narrowed his eyes, walking toward her, wagging his finger accusatorily. "Don't you dare laugh. This weekend's tournament is very important. We win this one, and I know Lauren will be asked to be on the Arlington Girls' Fast Pitch Traveling Team."

Amanda held up both hands, placating him. "I know, I know, very prestigious."

"A much higher level of competition," he continued.

"And a chance for her to make it as first-string varsity once she goes to high school," Amanda finished, having already memorized Lee's talking points.

"This is serious, Amanda. This could land her a full ride to UVA or some Ivy League school on a sports scholarship."

Amanda shook her head. "She's 13, Lee. She's just finishing 8th grade. I think there's a little bit of time before we need to worry about college scholarships."

"It's never too early, Amanda. My . . . our daughter is a straight A honor roll student. Add this type of extra-curricular activity to her resume, and she could get offers from some of the best schools in the nation."

He was so earnest she almost had to take him seriously. Almost. "Have you been talking with Coach Versey?"

"No . . . "

"Then Mrs. Hill from the guidance office?"

"Well, maybe, but . . . "

"No 'but's', Stetson!" At his crestfallen look, she softened her tone. "Lauren is headed into high schoo this fall . I'm already not happy that her middle school is being renovated and all the 9th graders are being moved into the high school. It's gonna be a big change for her, and I don't want her worrying about college at this point."

She could see the gears tumbling into place in her husband's over-competitive brain. "Right." He sighed. "You're right." He moved closer to her, wrapping an arm around her waist to pull her close. "Do you ever get tired of being right?"

"Amazingly enough-" she laughed. "No."

He leaned down, placing a soft kiss on her lips, and whispered "Well, just so you know, it is a tiny bit annoying."

She smacked his chest, and he smiled down at her, capturing her lips in another kiss.

"Geez, get a room, will you?" The lilting tone of their teenage daughter's voice drew their attention to the side of Range Rover. Lauren chugged back the remainder of her Gatorade and opened the car's back door, tossing the empty inside. "Remember we hafta pick up Susan and Stacey and Ashley. If we don't get a move on, we're going to be late."

When they didn't react, the teenager rolled her eyes and with a huff dropped herself into the back seat of the car. "Now, people, let's move!" She harrumphed, slamming the door closed.

Amanda drew a deep breath and looked up at Lee. "It's hard to say no when she asks so nicely."

Shaking his head, Lee hoisted the cooler into the back of the SUV and slammed the hatch closed. "And this is the child you're so worried about? I wouldn't put a bet against her taking on a KGB agent in a battle of wills."

"Point taken." Amanda moved to the passenger side door. "So maybe it isn't too early to think about Harvard . . ."

"Harvard!" Lee's astonished eyes caught hers over the roof of the car.

"Well, their coach is Jennifer Allard. She's led them to four Ivy League championships."

"Wait. What? How do you know all this?" He narrowed his eyes at her. "Have you been talking to Mrs. Hill in the Guidance Office?"

"Of course not," Amanda sniffed, pulling open the car door. She gave Lee a sweet smile and continued. "Coach Versey and I had coffee last week." She watched as Lee's mouth dropped open. Before he could speak she added, "By the way, I wanted to warn you that Mrs. Scott is still running the snack shack at the ballpark."

It took a minute for this to register but when it did, Lee frowned and looked down at his feet. "I should have gotten steel-toed boots," he grumbled. "I have no protection if one of those bricks she likes to call a brownie falls on my foot again."

Amanda leveled a serious gaze at her husband. "Remember, Lee, there's no crying in baseball."

Their daughter's voice piped in from the back seat. "Any day now, Dad!"

They shared a long-suffering look and got into the car.

The End