Chapter 14 - The Empty Seat in the Bleachers
The tournament opener began under low gray clouds.
Nicole arrived ten minutes before the first pitch, carrying a folding chair and a thermos of coffee.
Dad came alone and sat two rows behind us.
He didn't wear his old coaching jacket or shout instructions from the stands.
He simply watched.
Owen struck out his first time at bat.
I waited for the familiar grandfatherly lecture about keeping his shoulder in.
None came.
His next at-bat produced a hard single up the middle.
Dad clapped, once, then again, almost shyly.
In the fourth inning Owen missed a throw and allowed a runner to advance.
He looked toward the bleachers instinctively.
Dad was still there.
He hadn't crossed his arms or turned away.
Owen exhaled and returned to his position.
By the final inning we were down a run.
Owen led off with a walk, stole second, and scored on another player's double.
His team won on a later hit.
It wasn't a storybook victory built around one boy.
It was a team victory, messy and earned.
After the handshake line Owen came toward us with sweat in his hair.
Nicole hugged him first.
Dad waited until Owen looked his way.
"Good game," he said.
Owen shrugged.
"I messed up that throw."
"You did," Dad answered. "And you stayed in the game."
Owen's face tightened at the familiar language.
Dad seemed to realize it too.
He corrected himself.
"What I mean is, I enjoyed watching you. Even when things didn't go your way."
For the first time since the birthday, Owen smiled directly at his grandfather.
It was small, but it was real.
Then my phone rang.
The caller was Melissa.
She said Scott had found out Dad attended the game and was furious.
He'd left the house, taken his coaching equipment, and told her he was going to settle the matter with me.
I looked across the field at Owen, who was laughing with his teammates.
I told Melissa I would not meet Scott at the ballpark.
May you like
Whatever he wanted to say could wait until the children were gone.
