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“There’s drinks and snacks. The pizza’s on its way.”
The table looked empty with my meager offerings.
I waited for Abby to sit in the empty seat toward the back of the group before continuing. I went through our options for uniforms, showing pictures of the colors and materials. There was a lengthy discussion of the issues of color piping when kids bought their own pants. Due to the cost and in the interest of uniformity, we finally concluded each player would purchase their own gray and black pants without piping so everyone would look the same.
Then I went over the schedule for fall, winter, and the spring seasons, including the locations for practice and games.
When I’d gotten through half of my list, the doorbell rang. Another parent offered to get it when I said it was most likely the pizza. We breaked so that everyone could grab a plate and a few slices before getting back into it.
I asked the parents questions about what the hoped to get from the season. How serious they were about tournaments, scrimmages, and traveling. After I noted everyone’s comments, I talked about my intentions for the team. The reality that we were a solid B team. My job was to teach them the fundamentals and build them into a better team. So that in a year or two, they’d be an A team.
When I finished my itinerary for the meeting, a parent asked, “There’s no crying in baseball, isn’t that right?”
“That’s a tough question to answer. I might cry if Brody gets a homer or something else impressive.” I was a softie when it came to that kid, and I loved baseball. I might tear up if he did something spectacular. I couldn’t rule it out.
The other parents chuckled at my response.
My gaze met Abby’s surprised one. Was that not the answer she was expecting?
I needed to refocus on the agenda. “Our first practice is this Sunday at two. We’ll practice on Wednesdays and Sundays through the end of October. If it rains, I’ll move it inside at the batting cages.”
Abby looked tense, but she didn’t ask any questions. I wondered if she was worried about making the practices. I’d have to mention helping her out again. It looked like she was the only single parent on the team. She wouldn’t want me to single her out, so I’d have to ask her when we were by ourselves.
When I was finished talking, the parents broke off into groups to introduce themselves. A couple of parents had questions for me. Norm was more interested in bragging about the progress Jackson was having with the pitching coach he’d hired for his son than asking any questions about how the season would go.
It was late, and the next day was a school day, so parents started to gather their children and say their good-byes. For the most part, the parents seemed excited to start the season. I was encouraged by the positive energy of the group.
Abby stood by herself at the edge of the deck watching Hunter play wiffle ball. “Did you have any questions?”
She sucked in a breath as if she was startled by my question. “I don’t think so.”
“Are you still worried about the time commitment?”
She relaxed slightly. “A little, yeah. I don’t always know my schedule ahead of time. I have family I can ask for help, but I don’t like to abuse that.”
“I’m sure your family doesn’t mind, and I’m always willing to help.” My heart clenched at the idea of her pulling Hunter from the team. He was a great player, and I saw his potential. He was determined like me. But it wasn’t him I felt the loss of—it was her.
I never thought I’d see her again, and now, I’d be seeing her a couple of times a week. Sure, I’d be busy with the kids, but I was looking forward to getting to know her better.
“I’ll manage.”
She didn’t tack it on at the end of her sentence, but I heard the words she left unsaid:I always do. She was used to relying on herself. Whether it was by necessity or a strong sense of independence. I admired that about her.
“Just know you have help.”
One of the other dads, Neil, who mentioned during the meeting he was an umpire for his older son’s league, stepped closer to us. “I think we live close if you need anyone to help with Hunter.”
Abby smiled. “That’s so kind. Thank you.”
I watched while they exchanged numbers, uncomfortable with the idea of some other guy helping her. He was married, but I wanted to be the one who helped her.
“I’ll gather everyone’s information and share it in case anyone could use similar help,” I said.
“That’s a great idea,” Abby said.
Neil drifted away and into another conversation.
Abby stepped closer and lowered her voice. “Whatever you do—please don’t require snacks at games.”
