Don't Hate the Player...Hate the Game(50)

My dad was striding out of the dug-out towards the pitcher’s mound. At the mere sight of him, my heart fluttered a little in my chest, and my stomach tightened into knots. Geez, if I was going to have this type of reaction to just seeing him, what was it going to be like when I met him? Would I puke or piss my pants?

The minutes ticked by to game time. Finally, we rose for the National Anthem. The entire time I kept my gaze focused on my dad. I couldn’t help it. I scrutinized every motion he made—the way he brought his hand over his heart, the way his lip shuffled back in forth like he was impatient about something. I couldn’t help noticing that was one of the little quirks he had that I had inherited too. I guess I was searching his face for all the answers I desperately wanted to know about him—all the unanswered questions that had piled up over the years.

It turned out to be an edge of your seat kinda game. Then in fifth inning, my dad gave up a home run. “Uh-oh,” Josh murmured, as the coach came out to the mound. “Think he’s done?” he asked me.

“I don’t know. He might have a little left in him,” I replied.

In the end, he did, and he managed to strike out the rest of the batters. The next inning the Padres caught up, and my dad’s sacrifice bunt helped them to take the lead. I don’t think I’d ever enjoyed a baseball game so much. The final score was Padres 5 and Braves 4. Josh danced around the box—which got us some strange looks from some of the Braves’ fans.

When the game was over, an usher came up to us. “Mr. Preston asked me to bring you down for a tour of the field.”

“Wow!” Josh exclaimed, as he shot out of his seat.

Maddie grinned as we followed the usher out of the box. “Wait right here, please,” he instructed as we got down to the field.

“Okay,” I replied.

Maddie leaned over and whispered in my ear. “How are you holding up?”

I jerked my gaze to meet hers. I didn’t know how she was always able to tell exactly how I was feeling. It was freaky, but it was also comforting. “I’m fine,” I lied.

“Hang in there. It’s going to be fine, you’ll see,” she reassured me.

We watched as some of the remaining players were being interviewed by news reporters, and a couple of players were giving autographs. Because of our VIP passes, they came over and talked with Josh and signed caps and posters.

But my dad was nowhere to be seen. Then I turned around to see him striding towards us. It was one of those moments when your heart stops, and you have to struggle to breathe. I might’ve been almost eighteen years old, but there was a part of me that was still that seven-year-old kid inside, desperately wanting a father.

Joe smiled and extended his hand. “Noah, it’s great to see you again.”

When I shook his hand, I almost laughed when I found it as nervously clammy as mine was.

He glanced over at Maddie and Josh. “And who are your friends?”

“Oh yeah, this is Maddie Parker and her brother, Josh.” I ruffled Josh’s cap a bit. “I think he might be your biggest fan.”

Josh stared open-mouthed at my dad like he was seeing a superhero or something. At my comment, he slowly bobbed his head in agreement.

My dad laughed. “Well, you’re awfully small to be my biggest fan!”

Normally Josh would have protested at being called small, but he was too stunned by “greatness” to argue. “I-It’s nice m-meetin’ you, Mr. Preston,” Josh stammered.

“It’s nice meeting you as well.”

Thrusting out the jersey that had come with the VIP package, Josh asked, “Can I have your autograph?”

“Why, of course. Actually I think I can do much better than that. Why don’t you all join me for dinner tonight?”

Josh seemed more surprised than I was. “Really?”

“Of course.” He reached in his pocket and brought out his wallet. He thrust a fifty into Josh’s hands. “First, why don’t you and your sister go check out the souvenir tables? Maybe even get a milkshake. If they give you any trouble, tell them Joe sent you.”

Josh beamed. “All right!” he cried.

Maddie glanced up at me through her long dark lashes and then smiled knowingly. “We’ll see you later,” she said and then she hurried behind Josh who was already bounding away.

My dad watched them go and then he turned back to me with a sly grin. Always the pimp and player, he mused, “She’s very beautiful.”

“She’s just a friend,” I replied.

He acknowledged my comment with a skeptical look before saying, “You know, this might sound a little strange, but she reminds me of your mother.”

I’d thought the same thing myself, but I sure as hell wasn’t going to admit it. I didn’t like the sort of weirdo Oedipus thing it said about me that I was attracted to a girl who reminded me of my mom.

“Maybe,” I said.

He motioned for me to have a seat. We sat in silence for a few minutes, watching the crew clean and repair the field. Finally, he sighed. “Noah, I just want you to know that I’m really glad you got in touch with me.”

I raised my eyebrows and fought the urge to spat, “Yeah right!” Instead, I managed a much more even tempered, “You are?”

“Yes, I am. There’s been many times over the years I wanted to see you. Not a day has gone by that I haven’t thought about you, wondered how you were doing, and if you still hated me.”