Coming Home

The cheers from the bleachers were unnerving for Dylan. He was so nervous anyways. He just knew he wasn’t going to hit the ball and everyone would laugh at him. Especially his father. He just had to come and bring his jerk of an uncle along. He didn’t like his Uncle Riley. He was so sarcastic and mean. Dylan could tell whenever Riley talked to him that his uncle was making fun of him somehow. He just couldn’t always figure out how! And then when he did understand, it always hurt his feelings and made him cry. Dylan hated how much it hurt him. Dylan’s father hated even more that Dylan cried. Darryl hated crying and only told Dylan so when tears were streaming down the little boys face. And Uncle Riley would laugh even more.

Dylan wanted to cry right now. But he couldn’t. He had to remember what his coach told him and focus on the ball. He could do it. He tried to block out all the sounds coming from the bleachers of all the well meaning parents of his teammates. There was so many there that would call out things like, “C’mon Dylan! You can do it!” and “You got this Dylan!”. He didn’t know what “this” was, but he was almost positive he did not have it. At 10 years old, he still looked like he could easily be in 1st grade. He hated that. Even though everyone was trying to be nice, it just depressed Dylan even more. The urge to cry got stronger.

The pitcher wound up. A scary looking boy who looked like he was 13 threw the ball and Dylan’s heart stopped. He swung with all his might and heard the whoosh of the air.

“Strike one!”

Dylan’s heart sank. He was a failure. He wanted to walk off right now! His little shoulders slumped forward and he started to sniffle.

“C’mon Dylan! Goddammit! You better try again!” yelled out Darryl. Dylan’s shoulders began to visibly shake with his cries and he pulled his helmet down further on his little head.

The well meaning cries got louder and Dylan desperately wanted to scream at them to shut up. Didn’t they know he was nothing but a stupid little boy who couldn’t do anything?! Why did they have to keep saying stupid things?

“It’s okay, son.” the umpire said, “Give it another shot. All you can do is try again.”

Dylan nodded his head and picked up his bat. Try again. Try again. He repeated his little mantra and he sniffled loudly and took his stance. Try again. Try again.

He saw the wind up. He almost felt the ball as it flew through the air. He swung with all his might. The bat made a whooshing sound as it cut through the air and hit nothing.

“Strike two!”

“Goddamnit Dylan! Hit the fucking ball!”

“Time out!”

Dylan couldn’t see through his tears but he was grateful for the voice of his coach, Nathan Taylor, Sr. Coach Taylor was his teammate Kyle Taylor’s father and more than once Dylan had fervently wished that Coach Taylor was his father too. He liked Kyle and here recently had loved hanging with Kyle’s older brother, Nathan Taylor, Junior. Nathan seemed to pick the boy out in practice more and more lately and Dylan blossomed under the attentive care. It was Nathan (Jr.) that jogged towards him after. But Dylan didn’t see the older boy insist to his coach to let him be the one to approach and talk to the younger boy. All Dylan could see was the home plate with his bat resting dejectedly next to it as it suddenly seemed his arms could not lift it anymore.

Dylan felt a hand rest on his shoulder and saw Nathan kneeling next to him, peering into his face with concern written on his features.

“Hey. Dylan it’s ok, bud. C’mon don’t cry.”

Sniffling, Dylan whispered, “Everyone keeps shouting and my dad is getting mad at me and I can’t hit the ball. Everyone is gonna hate me.”

“Aw, Dylan no one is going to hate you. Everyone is shouting because they want to tell you how much they love you.”

In the background, Darryl could be heard shouting, “Get it together Dylan!”

Looking into Nathan’s eyes as if to say I told you so, Dylan’s eyes filled with more tears. Nathan’s heart clenched even more for this sad young one. No one should ever be that sad. I just want to make him smile.

“Hey, for right now don’t think about your dad or anyone else. Right here, right now, Dylan, it’s just you and me. Remember the other day when we were practicing? You were doing great. Pretend it’s just you and me again. And I don’t care if you hit the ball or not, ok? I just want you to have fun. I want to see you smile, Dylan, that’s all.”

Staring into soft brown eyes that brought to Dylan’s mind memories of the hugs his mother would give him before she died, Dylan’s tears stopped and he felt relief wash over him. Something else, what he couldn’t tell just yet, filled him with warmth. It settled in his heart and he knew he never wanted to lose that feeling he felt when Nathan was looking at him like that. Nodding his head while still entranced by Nathan’s smile, Dylan readjusted his helmet and gave Nathan a small, tentative smile.

“That’s my guy. You just have fun. Ignore everyone else and just listen to my voice. Ok? Just listen to me.”

Backing away and clapping with enthusiasm, Nathan began yelling as loud as he could, “All right Dylan! You got this buddy! You can do it!”

Breathing deep and taking his stance once more, Dylan closed his eyes for a moment and let Nathan’s voice wash over him. Focus on Nathan. And suddenly Dylan felt better than he’d felt in a very long time. He could do this. He opened his eyes and imagined Nathan’s smiling face on the pitcher’s mound. Focusing on his voice still, but not paying attention to what he was saying, Dylan watched the ball release and fly towards him. He swung again with all his might, hyperaware of his bat as it connected with a resounding crack.

“WHOOO! ALL RIGHT DYLAN! RUN BUDDY RUN!!”

Following Nathan’s commands but not quite comprehending why Dylan ran as fast as his little legs would go and got his first home-run in his life. But the cheering and smiles from everyone went unnoticed as the young boy continued to focus on one person and one person only. As he approached home plate, he kept running straight into the open arms of Nathan.