Baseball Dads: Sex, Drugs, Murder, Children's Baseball Part 48

STEVE:.

Whatever.

TOMMY:.

The day had gone downhill for Dwayne since he received the amazing news about Estelle being pregnant. He felt his Jedi-ninja powers evolving. The urge to protect his family at all costs had never been so prominent.

Estelle ran to the front door and leapt into his arms. "I missed you, babe," she said. "How much time do we have?"

"Enough," he smiled back at her.

He carried her into the bedroom, where he set her down slowly as they kissed. They peeled each other's clothes off and stumbled toward the shower. The two of them were more in love than ever. Something about the pregnancy had elevated things to an incomprehensible level.

"You're amazing, my little Catwoman," he said.

"You're not too bad either, my big strong Batman," she said, returning the compliment. "You still doing okay, sweetie?"

"I'll be fine, babe. We both will. It's not always rainbows and b.u.t.terflies in the life of a ninja though, you know? I forget that sometimes."

"You're still okay with us though, right?"

"You know it, babe. I'm excited as h.e.l.l about our little bun in the oven. It gives me perspective. It makes me more aware of what's going on around me. I'm still a bada.s.s motherf.u.c.king ninja Jedi warrior, it's just that now I'm a bada.s.s motherf.u.c.king ninja Jedi warrior with an eye on the future. Gotta adapt, sugart.i.ts."

"Good. You've just been so confident lately, honeyb.a.l.l.s ... And then today, something looked ... different."

"I'm still confident, m.u.f.finb.u.t.t. Totally. I think I may have misjudged some people, though. That's all. I'm taking a few steps to make sure that if our ninja lifestyle is misunderstood by the long arm of the law, we'll still be fine. It's the evolution of the warrior."

"Are you sure everything is okay?"

"I'm positive. Do me a favor though, babe. Think about something. If we had to drop everything and leave town tomorrow, what would you bring with us? Whatever that is, I want you to get it together."

"But ... why?"

"Just in case."

Dwayne and Alex arrived at Jenny Field at 4:58 p.m. Both of them were excited for the challenge that lay ahead. They knew that Pastor Harper's team, the Mariners, would put up a fight. The Mariners played dirty, hard, real baseball. It was going to be fun.

Steve, Russ, and Tommy pulled into the parking lot with their boys just as Dwayne and Alex were about to grab the baseball gear from the back of Dwayne's truck. Everyone was in uniform. That gave Dwayne a small level of comfort.

The boys all high-fived each other, then pulled the two buckets of b.a.l.l.s and catcher's equipment from the truck bed and headed to the batting cages.

Russ pulled an enormous joint from his pack of cigarettes and sparked it up, then pa.s.sed it around. In between hits, Russ snuck his little cocaine contraption from his pocket and snorted away. He reeked of beer and liquor, and could barely piece a sentence together.

Tommy wasn't faring much better. He hadn't said a word since he arrived. He merely stood and nodded when Dwayne reviewed strategies with them. He pushed his sungla.s.ses up every few minutes and had developed something of a nervous twitch.

Steve was constantly looking over his shoulder. He couldn't shake the crazy feeling that he was being watched. And as it turned out, he was right. Dwayne spotted Detective Loffland's unmarked car hidden around the side of the ballpark.

Dwayne decided to stop by and say h.e.l.lo to the detective. As Dwayne approached his vehicle, Detective Loffland opened up his door and stepped out.

"You're a h.e.l.l of a coach, Mr. Devero," he said. "I've been impressed. Not so much with your dazzly little coach's s.h.i.+rts, but still."

"Thanks, Detective!" Dwayne replied. "You should come grab a seat in the bleachers tonight. It's gonna be a good game."

"I would, but I've been working this case day and night. At some point I'm hoping to see something bigger than possession of marijuana. I kinda need to stay behind the scenes."

Dwayne grinned. He could tell Detective Loffland was one of those cops that could care less about weed violations. "I hear ya, Detective. That's a good thing, too. We all need ways of coping with a.s.sholes. And by the way, speaking of a.s.sholes, I'm playing the King of a.s.sholes tonight, Pastor Jim Harper."

"Man, that guy is a douche. Beat the s.h.i.+t out of him for me. Good luck!"

"Thanks. Let me know if I can help at all with the case."

The two shook hands and slapped shoulders. Dwayne headed over to the cages while the detective attempted to resume his "hidden" position.

After batting practice was completed, Dwayne called the team and coaches together for a pump-up meeting and asked the boys to take a knee. "This is the team to beat, men," he began. "And it's time for me to let you know something: You've played great so far in the playoffs. But that won't be enough tonight. Tonight, I need you to play better. You've hit well so far in the playoffs, also. But tonight, I need you to hit better."

Dwayne paced back and forth in front of the team. They were listening intently. They were focused. There were no smiles, only snarls.

"You can claim a victory here tonight, men," he continued. "But it won't be given to you. You'll have to latch on to it with both hands and rip it away from the Mariners. And make no mistake about it, they will play dirty, and we will not. They will be loose with the rules. We will not be. They will cheat. We will not. We will unite as a team once again, we will shut them down defensively, and we will explode while in the batter's box. Every inning, we will kill. Every inning, we will destroy. Every inning, we will make the Mariners rue the day someone handed them a baseball bat and told them they could do something with it."

Dwayne paused. He looked each boy in the eye.

"And once our six innings have come to an end, we will emerge victorious."

The boys erupted in excitement. Russ, Steve, and Tommy felt as though they'd just been privy to one of the greatest speeches in the history of sports.

"Bring it in, boys! Tigers kill, on three!"

"One ... two ... three ... TIGERS KILL!!!"

Dwayne headed to the mound to shake hands with Dave the umpire and Pastor Jim before the game. Dave went through the rules, as was customary, and they flipped a coin to determine who would be "home" and who would be "visitor." Pastor Jim won the coin toss and elected to be the "home" team.

"Okay, men, shake hands, and then let's play some baseball," Dave said.

The two reached out their hands and shook as the crowd began to cheer. Pastor Jim leaned over to Dwayne to attempt to rattle him. "I've always admired your wife, Dwayne," he said. "I bet she'd be a great missionary. She's had an incredible amount of practice in the missionary position."

That struck a nerve. Dwayne squeezed Pastor Jim's hand as tightly as he could, almost bringing him to his knees. The aggressive gesture didn't go unnoticed by the crowd. A few boos could be heard from the stands.

"Listen here, you hypocritical pedophile," Dwayne said through gritted teeth. "If you ever mention my wife again, I will sodomize you with a baseball bat until blood pours from your ears. Am I clear on that?"

Pastor Jim nodded. Dwayne released his hand, leaving the pastor to rub his fingers and a.s.sess for damage.

"Now, go pray for mercy, douchebag," Dwayne added, giving a mockingly playful punch to the pastor's shoulder. "I'm about to unleash the hounds of h.e.l.l on you."

Dwayne turned and walked back to his dugout. He was p.i.s.sed. And he wasn't the only one. Pastor Jim was rather upset as well. These two men absolutely hated each other. The battle was set to begin.

Russ's son, Jackson, was the lead-off batter for the Tigers. Russ scurried to serve as first-base coach, beside the Mariners' dugout.

"I hope you know that you're attaching yourself to a sinking s.h.i.+p by being friends with Dwayne," Pastor Jim called over to Russ.

Russ was doing everything he could not to respond. He was ready to explode into a violent cocaine-and-alcohol rage. Unfortunately, Russ was a deacon in the church, and the church had been his prime source of business investors. Because of this, Pastor Jim was pretty much the only person Russ had never blown up on.

Still, Russ wasn't about to let it go. He moved close to the kid on first and whispered, "Hey, has Pastor Jim ever asked you to find your happy place while he tickled your privates?"

The boy just shook his head as a look of fear overcame him.

"Good to hear, son. Good luck today."

Pastor Jim's son, Noah, was pitching. Noah went to work on Jackson, throwing everything in his bag of tricks. Jackson swung at a beautiful curveball and an extremely slow changeup. He missed both. Noah finished Jackson off with an incredible fastball that painted the outside corner.

Defeated and humiliated, Jackson dragged back to the dugout with his head down. TJ took the plate next. It was the same story. Great pitching had neutralized another great batter. Noah struck TJ out in four pitches. Now it was up to Steve's son, Jonathan, to keep the inning alive before Alex could get a shot at batting cleanup.

Jonathan took Noah to a full count, with three b.a.l.l.s and two strikes. Noah decided to send a message to the Tigers with his next pitch. He figured it was time to get inside their heads. He threw a screaming fastball right at Jonathan's head. Jonathan managed to turn just enough so that the ball merely grazed his cheek, but it was enough to draw blood. It was also enough to throw him off balance, and he fell backward to the ground.

The crowd went silent. Dave the umpire looked at Dwayne. Dwayne looked at Pastor Jim. Pastor Jim smiled.

It was on.

Jonathan rose to his feet, and Dave directed him to jog out to first base. He wiped away the blood as he ran. The crowd clapped for Jonathan, happy that he wasn't going to the emergency room.

Steve grabbed Alex's shoulder before he headed to the plate.

"Blood for blood, Alex," Steve grunted, obviously p.i.s.sed off. Alex had no idea what Steve meant. He just nodded and headed out to bat.

Noah Harper and Alex Devero had a bit of history. They were thought to be the best players in their age group. The locals had enjoyed watching the two face off as they grew up. With the recent tension between their fathers, the boys' rivalry had deepened. It was unspoken but highly visible.

Noah started with a curveball that ventured to the outside, trying to get Alex swinging. It didn't work. Noah figured he needed to wake Alex up with his next pitch, so he threw one right at him. Alex dove out of the way, and the ball barely missed him.

Alex hopped to his feet and dusted himself off. He was unfazed. This drove Noah crazy. He tried once more to rattle Alex, sending another speeding ball toward his head. This one was even closer, but Alex dodged it.

The next pitch, however, was perfect. It had to be, and Alex knew that. Noah had already thrown three b.a.l.l.s. He had to throw strikes now. His fourth pitch was fast, low, and right up the middle. Alex waited on it to travel back as far as he could. He cracked it masterfully, sending the ball sailing down the first baseline. It cleared the fence by probably a greater margin than any ball had ever cleared it before.

Two-run homer. Boom. The tone had been set. Alex could not be shaken. He glanced across to Dwayne as he rounded third base. Alex wasn't smiling like most kids would have been. There was something far more fierce there. Something deeper. It was the glare of a young bada.s.s grandmaster ninja Jedi warrior.

Noah managed to pull himself together for the next kid, Ace Dale. Ace never even swung the bat. He committed one of the worst crimes you can commit at the plate ... he watched three perfect up-the-middle throws in a row and struck out.

The Mariners came out with their guns blazing. Alex managed to strike the first two batters out, but the third got a small piece of the ball. A fielding error allowed him to make it to first. But then, when Noah took the plate, the tide s.h.i.+fted.

Noah made excellent contact with Alex's fastball and hit a screamer over the center fielder's head to the outfield wall. Eric Rearden, the late Pete Rearden's son, was playing center field. He made a great throw to his cutoff man at second base. The cutoff was able to pivot perfectly because of the freshly manicured dirt, and he whipped the ball to Jackson at home plate.

Noah came in for the slide at home just as Jackson caught the ball. Noah raised his leg at the last second, sending his spikes into Jackson's s.h.i.+n. Jackson fell over hard, and the ball rolled out of his glove as he hit the ground in agony. The dirty move allowed the Mariners to tie the Tigers and caused Jackson to have to sit out for the remainder of the game with a sore and shredded leg.

The game remained tied at 22 until the sixth and final inning. It was a game of "small ball" ... very few hits, and exceptional defense.

The final run of the game was scored by TJ, who managed to hit a solid double and was knocked in by a line-drive triple from Alex. The Mariners managed to get a couple of players on base at the bottom of the sixth, but TJ's turn at pitching ultimately proved effective, and the Tigers squeaked by with a score of 32.

At the end of the game, the Mariners and the Tigers crossed to the middle of the field to shake hands and offer the obligatory "good game" to one another. When it came time for Noah to shake Jackson's hand, he dropped his shoulder and knocked Jackson back a few steps. Alex lunged forward and grabbed Noah's "shaking hand," whipping him around into a half nelson while twisting his fingers back. Alex demanded that Noah apologize to Jackson for spiking him and pus.h.i.+ng him while in line.

"Hey there, Alex!" Pastor Jim called out. "You stop that right now! Dwayne, don't you think you should say something here?!"

The ruckus caused the parents to hurry onto the field, mortified.

"Yes, Pastor, I do," Dwayne replied. "Alex, if you twist his fingers while you're pus.h.i.+ng them back, he'll probably apologize more quickly."

Alex did as his father advised, and Noah dropped to his knees. The group of parents gasped.

Pastor Jim darted toward the boys, but Dwayne stepped in front of him, clutching the front of the pastor's s.h.i.+rt with both hands. "Don't even think about it, Jim," Dwayne growled. "Your boy played dirty. Now he's gonna apologize."

"Come on, Dad, you f.u.c.king p.u.s.s.y!" Noah screamed in pain. "Hit that f.u.c.king low-rent yard guy and get this a.s.shole off of me!"

The pastor and his wife were shocked and embarra.s.sed. The other parents pulled their kids away from the melee and attempted to cover their ears, protecting them from further profanity. Dave the umpire chuckled.

None of this deterred Alex. He twisted Noah's fingers harder. Any more, and bones would break.

"DAAAAAD! DAAAAD!" Noah yelled. "f.u.c.k! Fine! Okay! I'm sorry! I'm sorry!"

Alex let go of Noah's hand, and Dwayne released Pastor Jim's s.h.i.+rt. Jedi-ninja warrior father and son returned to the dugout. The rest of the Tigers followed. The Mariners stayed, crumpled in defeat, in the middle of the field.