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It’s a hit down the left field base line, good for a double.
“Okay, Appleton, bring him home!” Liam shouts. Junior Appleton is a big kid for his age, but a damn fine baseball player. He works just as hard as Noah does on his game, spending extra time with Nick. The thought occurs to me that Nick is like everyone’s surrogate dad. He’s always willing to help the kids learn and get better. I know for a fact that when the boys won the state title he was beside himself and almost brought to tears when Liam said he’d cover the charges for the team to fly. We haven’t spoken much since we’ve gotten here because he’s been busy with team and coaching events, but I can’t imagine what he’s feeling right now. Knowing him the way I do, he’s telling himself that this is just another baseball game.
Junior is faced with a full-count. Liam is as anxious for him as he was for Noah. Candy is on the bottom bleacher, rocking back and forth. I feel her pain.
The loud clank brings us all to standing. The outfielders are ru
When Noah crosses the plate, I’m jumping up and down along with Aubrey. Two pregnant chicks shouldn’t jump at the same time because it messes up your equilibrium. Liam catches me as I wobble and Harrison grabs a hold of Aubrey, but that doesn’t stop us. When Junior rounds third, we become louder. Everyone is screaming. The ball is thrown and Junior slides. The whole stadium grows quiet as we wait for the umpire.
When he goes out wide calling Junior safe, we erupt in cheers. We are up by two runs in the bottom of the sixth. If Noah can hold off the power hitters for the Japanese team, we win.
“Oh god, I have to pee.’ I cross my legs in an effort to hold it.
“Want me to walk with you?” My mother offers. I turn and glare at her. She must think I’m nuts if I’m leaving when my son is pitching in the LLWSC game.
“Are you crazy? I’d rather pee my pants than miss Noah pitching.”
“She’s not crazy, Josie. She’s just offering. Face forward like a good girl and watch your son. I’m sure by all the daggers you just put in your mom’s chest, she knows you’re willing to pee down your leg,” Liam says as if nothing is amiss.
“Don’t be gross,” I say to Liam, who throws his hands up in the air.
As soon as I sit down my mom is back to giving me a massage. I feel a little bad for Aubrey because I’m getting pampered, but I really like it and I don’t want my mom to stop.
“Come on, Westbury.” Liam is upset because Noah just walked a batter, putting a ru
The second batter strikes out swinging. It’s our first out. We’re just two outs away from the championship. All the moms are rocking back and forth with our hands in praying position. The younger kids are the cheerleaders, using their chants to distract the batters. Behind us, the broadcasters are talking and over the course of the ten days we’ve been here, they’ve done specials on certain kids. Noah was one of them. Noah does a lot stuff that makes me proud, but I was over the moon when he answered the question about how it feels to be Liam Page’s son with: “I don’t know Marv, how does it feel to be your dad’s son?”
After the interview, the broadcaster apologized to Noah and asked to do the interview over again. Noah gave him another chance and finally got to talk about himself and his passion for baseball and football. I’m sure somewhere during the television broadcast they brought up Liam’s high school career and cover from Sports Illustrated.
The third batter hits a pop fly, which is easily caught by our third basemen. The ru
“What’s going on?” I ask Liam, who is staring intently at Noah.
He shakes his head. “Nick’s just calming him down, telling him where he wants the pitches to be.”
I’m so nervous that my heart is going to burst out of my chest. I close my eyes when Noah starts his pitching motion, opening just in time to see the batter start his swing. The ball is hit and we all stand, our side breathing a sigh of relief when it goes foul.
“Just you and your catcher, Westbury. Find the sweet spot.”
“He can’t hear you,” I say to Liam. He glares at me and nods.
“Yes, he can.”
“No, he can’t. I asked him once. He said he tunes us out.”
“No, he tunes you out because you taunt the umpires.”
“Do not.”
This time Liam turns and shoots me a look of exasperation. “Seriously, Josie, you’re acting like you’re five. Hell, Eden is more mature than you are right now.”
I look down the bench at Eden, who has chocolate ice cream all over her face.
“Great, now I want ice cream.”
Liam shakes his head and focuses on the game, which I should be doing. The second pitch is a ball, followed by a strike.
“He’s ahead in the count,” I say, poking Liam in the shoulder.
“No wonder Katelyn doesn’t sit with you,” he says as he tries to ignore me.
I can’t help that I’m nervous for our son, who is pitching in the biggest game of his life right now. I want to run out there and hold him.
Noah winds up and lets go of the ball. Before I can grasp what is happening, Noah throws his glove up in the air and jumps into Junior’s arms.
I stand and look at Liam. “They won! Oh my god, Liam, they won!” He gives me a quick hug before he starts celebrating. I know he wants to be out on the field with Noah and hates that it’s Nick that got them this far. He’s so proud, though; he doesn’t say anything to Noah when he chooses to go practice with Nick instead of hanging out.
When the presentations are over, we pick up all of our stuff and head out to meet Noah. I tried telling Liam to go on ahead, but he’s waiting for me, helping me down the stairs. A lot of parents are gathering at the entrance where the players will come out, each of us proud, but half of us somber because someone had to lose. Thing is, if your son or daughter makes it this far, they have nothing to hang their heads about. This is the best there is in Little League Baseball.
Noah comes ru
A warm sensation washes over me, causing me to feel lightheaded. Hands are grabbing at me, telling me to lie down, but I can’t see who’s talking to me. I can only see Liam and Noah.
“Josie?” I can hear my dad calling my name, but he seems so far away.
“Someone call 9-1-1.”
Yes, I think that would be a good idea.
“MOM!”
Noah’s blood curdling scream causes me to freeze. I try to hang on to him as he pushes himself out of my arms, but I’m unable to. Everything is happening in slow motion. The way Noah is falling out of my arms, the way I’m turning just in time to see my wife start to fall to the ground, the way people are looming around her, but moving at a snail’s pace.
“Josie!” My words are muffled and sound robotic and it takes me what seems like an hour to get to her when she’s only a few feet away.
Her father is there to help her to the ground, and someone is yelling for 9-1-1. I’m by her side, holding her hand and trying to get the words that are ru