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Fic: Lost Boy - 12/? - Baseball

Lost Boy - Chapter 12 - Baseball

Disclaimer: Not mine. Still. Sadly.

In honor of “Stealing Home” (Yay! Baseball!) here is a baseball-themed fic that was briefly hinted at in the previous chapter of “Lost boy”.

    “Mommy! Mommy look!” Neal, as exuberant as ever, ran into the kitchen like a runaway wind-up toy, nearly knocking full-force into Elizabeth’s legs. “I has a unifowm. Isn’t it pwetty?” He plucked at his Yankee’s shirt and grinned.
    Elizabeth smiled at her husband as he leisurely trailed Neal into the kitchen, then looked back down at her son. “It’s lovely, sweetheart. Does that mean you and your daddy are going to go play baseball?”
    Neal shrugged distractedly, brushing a spot of lint from his pants.
    “Yeah,” Peter answered for her, “A couple of the dads from his school are setting up a game in the park. I figured he could use my glove from when I was in little league. Might be a little big still, but he can grow into it. You want to come watch?”
    “Of course! What do you think baby,” she asked, turning back to Neal, “you want me to see you play your first baseball game?”
    He looked at the excited faces of his parents and nodded. “Uh-huh! Come see!” He tugged their hands towards the door. “Satchmo, come!”
    Four eager feet skittered quickly across the tile and followed them out to the car.


    Neal was good at a great many things, both as an adult and a child.
    Baseball was not one of them.
    As a pitcher, his throws kept falling short. “I don’t wanna hit anybody!”
    As an outfielder he kept getting bored and wandering off, charming the grandmothers who’d come to see their grandkids play, or drawing DaVinci sketches in the dirt.
    At bat, he wasn’t bad. He could hit the ball okay, but he really shined when it came to running bases. The boy was fast, there was no doubt about that, and it made Peter proud to see his kid was obviously a much faster runner than any of the (mostly older and much bigger) kids. There was just one problem.
    He wouldn’t slide.
    “Neal, that’s how you play the game. Sometimes you’ve got to slide to a base to make a run.”
    “But Daddy, there’s dirt,” Neal informed him exasperatedly. “I’ll get dirty.”
    Peter scrubbed a hand over his face. “That’s part of sports buddy. You get dirty when you play. You’re a little boy, it’s supposed to be fun.” It certainly had been when he was a kid. Whether it was in the event of playing a sport, roughhousing with his friends or just running through mud puddles, he loved to see just how dirty he could get, and what color his mom’s face would turn when she saw him.
    “But I don’t want to.”
    Peter sighed. “Just try bud, for me, okay? Please.”
    Neal sighed too, sounding extremely put-upon, but nodded. “Okay, fine.”
    Ten minutes later, Neal slid into home.
    His team cheered.
    Peter puffed up with pride.
    Neal stared sorrowfully at his grass-stained knees.
    Five minutes after that Elizabeth and Satchmo cuddled Neal over by the picnic tables, promising she could get the stain out, while the rest of the kids gleefully played in the dirt.
    Peter tried to console himself with the thought that maybe Neal could at least run track.

Please review. Also, as I have decided that I am not above begging, please please please, if you have a Facebook account, go to http://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.330544246989911.80458.241564562554547&type=3 and “like” both Alabama Toys and Teacups Boutique, and (especially) the pic of the black and white cocker spaniel & cat. (I’m trying to win a puppy, and I’m obviously willing to give up my dignity to do so!) ;)


Feb. 25th, 2012 03:20 am (UTC)
Thank you! :)