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Hunter nodded solemnly. “Two seasons. I got better this past spring.”
I appreciated his honesty. “The batters score any runs on you?”
His eyes flashed. “I struck ’em out 1-2-3, or they ground out to first.”
I resisted the twitch of my lips at his response. He was justifiably confident. “You played rec ball?”
He nodded. “That’s right.”
I held up my hand for a high five. “Good job today. That was some impressing pitching.”
“Thank you, Coach.”
I nodded toward the dugout. “Go ahead and get your batting helmet. We’re batting next.”
The kids lined up outside the batting cage. I hated letting kids wait. In practice, I’d have two or three drills going at once, so everyone got a chance to work. But with limited assistant coaches, I didn’t have a choice for tryouts.
I pitched to the kids in the batting cage. I was looking for good form, full swings, and hard hits. One kid had perfect form and another hit hard. There was potential, but not many standouts. It would be a rebuilding year, it appeared. What the league called a B-team.
When every player had batted, I told them to pack up. “Your homework is to watchThe Sandlotmovies.”
“I’ve already watched those,” Hunter said quietly.
“Try another one,Twelve.” It was about a kid who didn’t get picked for his local travel team, but he never gave up.
I headed over to the parents to give them an update and answer any questions. “I still have a few other kids to see who couldn’t make it today, but I should have a decision by Wednesday.
“Any questions?”
None had any, so I turned to walk away when a dad caught my attention. The one who’d volunteered to help. “I’m Jackson’s dad, Norm.”
I half-listened to his suggestions for the team. Apparently, Jackson played on the 7U last year. That was his subtle way of telling me that Jackson deserved a spot.
Usually, the coach would stay with the team and keep the kids from the prior year, but I heard the former coach and half the team left for a different league. I wondered if Jackson tried out for that team and didn’t make it.
When the kids filed out of the dugout, Hunter approached his mother with a smile. “I think I made it.”
Pride, then concern crossed Abby’s face before she said, “Great job. Let’s talk more about it in the car.”
I tried not to smile at his cockiness. It was a good sign that Hunter was able to pick up on my cues. It boded well for a coach-player relationship.
I refocused on Jackson’s dad, who was telling me he’d hired a pitching coach for his son. I knew without asking Abby that Hunter didn’t have a coach. She didn’t seem like the type to hire one, and Hunter had natural form.
I sensed Norm would be one of the more involved parents. His son was the second pitcher, so I’d have to deal with it.
When the parents left, Ethan and I put the bases in the shed and raked the field.
“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Ethan asked.
“What? Coaching a team?” I straightened, stretching out the kinks in my back.
“Travel is year-round.”
I nodded, knowing what he was getting at. “Even if Austin gets out of jail at some point, I’ll still be his coach.”
Ethan lowered his voice. “Have you ever thought about going for full custody?”
Brody was in the infield, digging in the dirt. Not within earshot.
