older bunch. Grizzled. A short, stocky man with a long mustache is their lead-off batter. He steps into the batter's box. The chatter from the Bandits' infield doesn’t faze him.
Bob stands in the entrance to the Bandits' dugout. He shouts to his pitcher, “Come on, JJ. Just put one over the plate. Let him see what you’ve got.” He then shouts at the rest of the team, urging his defensive players, “Be ready in the infield!”
The batter taps the bat against each of his shoes, then glances out at the pitcher. He taps his bat on home plate, then raises it up over his shoulder.
The umpire surveys the field. Satisfied everything is ready, he shouts, “Play ball!” then squats down behind Ramiro.
JJ winds up and fires one at the plate.
The batter swings hard. Craackk as the hard wood strikes the ball.
All the Bandits in the infield stare skyward, following the ball as it sails far into right field. Mayday backs up...backs up...turns and runs for the fence, trying to keep his eye on the ball.
The batter knows what he has. He calmly tosses the bat over to his own dugout and starts jogging toward first base.
Mayday throws his glove on the ground as the ball easily clears the fence for a home run. Some kids race each other beyond the fence to get to the free baseball.
Ramiro stands up behind home plate, shaking his head. He turns to the umpire. “Not a good way to start the season.”
The Tigers shout support as the batter trots around third and heads for home. They all rush out to greet him with high-fives at the plate.
Bob is still standing in the entrance to the dugout. He shouts at his pitcher. “Don't worry about it, JJ. Shake it off.”
The next batter steps into the box. JJ fires another one in. The batter swings and connects, sending a grounder to third. Santini scarfs it up and fires it to first.
Shinji shrinks from the hard throw, but catches it in the tip of his glove. The runner, still several steps from the base, is obviously out.
The base judge quickly confirms it with a sweeping move and calling, “Runner’s out!”
Bob jumps and shouts. “Way to go, Santini! Nice throw! Good catch, Shinji!”
The next Tigers batter slaps a hard drive over Q’s head into left field. The runner makes it around first and holds at second.
The runner at second is aggressive. He takes a long lead off the base. JJ watches him closely. Pauli stands near second, just in case. JJ’s eyes meet the runners. They hold for several long moments in a staredown. The runner tries another step toward third and JJ fires the ball to Pauli. The runner races back and dives low, touching the base just before Pauli can reach down to tag him. Safe.
Pauli throws the ball back to JJ and the game of cat and mouse starts again. This time, the runner doesn’t take such a long lead off the base. When JJ launches his pitch, the runner breaks to steal third.
Ramiro will have none of it. The batter swings to block Ramiro’s view of the ball, but that doesn’t work. Ramiro grabs the pitch, and in one smooth motion, he stands and fires hard to Santini.
Santini grabs the throw at third and easily makes the tag. The runner is out at third.
Bob is all over the third base line, congratulating his team on some great plays.
Unfortunately, right after their impressive play at third the Bandits’ luck changes.
A pair of doubles later, and a Tiger slides safely into home plate, making the second score of the game. Before the first inning is over, the Tigers are beating the Bandits three to nothing. Finally, a dribbling hit down the first base line allows JJ to grab it and throw the runner out at first, ending the misery.
The Bandits jog to the dugout, forlorn.
“Shake it off, guys,” Bob says. “We have plenty of time to turn this thing around.”
Privately, Bob isn’t sure how the game will go. From what he’s already seen, the Tigers are good. They have quite a few good sticks, and their defense is impressive as well. Bob knows his Bandits need a lift as they mope into the dugout.
JJ practices his swing on deck, and Q is waiting at the dugout entrance with his bat.
Bob waves JJ in and turns to Ramiro. “Ramiro, you take leadoff.”
Ramiro quickly removes the rest of his equipment and grabs a helmet and a bat. He only gets a couple of practice swings in before the umpire calls ”Play ball”. Ramiro steps over to the batter’s box and taps his bat on the plate.
The Tigers' catcher squats, punches his glove. “What is this? The blue jeans league?”
Ramiro ignores the snide comment and faces the pitcher.
The pitcher stares him down, then winds up and throws. Ramiro backs up from the plate, letting the first curve ball go by.
“Ball one,” says the umpire.
Bob, coaching near first base, shouts at Ramiro, “Way to watch 'em, Ramiro.“
The second pitch and Ramiro swings. Crack!
The Bandits' dugout erupts with cheers as Ramiro sprints for first. The ball flies well over the center fielder's head but doesn't quite reach the fence.
At first base, Bob waves Ramiro on, yelling, “Go. Go. Go!”
Ramiro makes the turn at first and races for second base.
The center fielder catches up with the ball. He snags it and throws it to second.
Bob yells from first base, “Hold up at second!”
Ramiro slides feet first to bleed his speed and beats the throw by a full second. He stands up on the base and dusts off his pants... safe.
The Bandits are elated, most of them standing outside the dugout, yelling and giving each other high fives.
In spite of the initial offense, the rest of the inning doesn’t go as well. JJ is up next. He connects, but is thrown out at first. Q pop flies out, then Shinji swings at a two and two pitch, but doesn’t connect. With three outs, Ramiro is left stranded on second at the end of the inning.
The rest of the game doesn’t go as well, either, but at least the Bandits record a few runs, mostly on errors by their opponents. At the top of the ninth, the scoreboard shows the Bandits losing fifteen to six.
Ramiro is at bat, with Q on first. Ramiro singles into right center, but the Tigers’ right fielder’s throw beats Q at second. Game over.
Ramiro and Q droop back to the dugout.
The team slowly puts their equipment into their bag. They grumble about everything from the field to the calls the umpires made.
Bob trots in from his post as first base coach.
“All right, guys,” Bob says. “You all did pretty good. Shake it off.“
“Coach,” Ramiro speaks for the team. “We need a pitcher.” Ramiro slaps JJ on the shoulder. “No disrespect, man, but you suck.”
Bob nods. “A deeper pitching bench wouldn't hurt. But don't kid yourselves, this is a team sport. I saw some pretty outstanding play out there today.“
The team still grumbles.
Bob knows he has to do something to lighten the mood. “Heck. Pizza's on me. Let's get out of here.”
---
Security Forces Headquarters
Word travels fast around the security forces squadron. Early the next morning, Paul—the rent-a-cop who disparaged Bob’s ability to coach and his potential as a cop—sneaks into the break room. He’s carrying a large piece of brown paper rolled up under his arm. He stops at the door and checks the hall to make sure no one sees him.
He closes the door and carries the paper over to the bulletin board. He clears a spot and tacks the paper up with pushpins. The paper has a handwritten list of the twelve games the Bandits are going to play. Paul takes a marker and puts a big “L” beside the first game, then slinks out of the room.
---
Bandits Baseball Field
Bob worries the Bandits might not show up for practice after their initial loss, but they are all there, practicing hard. Their defense is good, but Bob knows he needs to improve their pitching if the Bandits are to have a winning season. He stands near JJ at the pitching mound, watching his
technique.
JJ winds up and throws a strike.
“Good throw,” Bob says. “Now, let's try a small change in your—“
Beyond Josh, near the fence on the third base side, a young man dressed in a mixture of American and Arab garb steps through the gate.
Bob sees him first, recognizing him as the kid who threw in the ball the other day. He stares at the young man.
Q follows his coach’s gaze from shortstop and sees the teen walking toward them.
“What the hell's he doing here?” Bob asks no one in particular, loud enough for the teen to hear.
The teen stops when he hears Bob’s question.
Q trots over to greet the newcomer, yelling over his shoulder, “I asked him to join the team, Coach.”
“What?” Bob asks. He glances around at his team, then back at the teen standing on the far side of the third base line. The teen has the olive skin of the Afghans Bob became so familiar with during his deployment—the same color of skin as the Afghans who planted the bomb that took his arm and killed Johnny. Bob wasn’t sure where it came from, but he heard himself say in an angry tone, “We don't need him.”
“Come on, Coach, give him a shot. You saw him throw,” JJ says.
Bob shakes his head. “I doubt he even knows how to play baseball. Let’s get back to practice.” Bob waves the kid away.
The team wanders in toward the pitcher’s mound. Ramiro is the first one there. “Can’t hurt to find out, Coach.”
Q waits with the teen, still standing near third base.
“Yeah, give him a chance, Coach,” Pauli says. “Won't hurt nothin'.” Pauli waves for Q to bring the kid over.
Q leads him toward the mound.
Bob definitely recognizes the look of the