It’s ten minutes after school let out, and I’m already sweating. I’m in shorts and a t-shirt, in cleats with a baseball cap slapped on my head. My glove is pinned between my arm and my body, and I’m cowering in the shade of the dugout.

“Looks like we’ve got a decent amount of people trying out.” Someone says. I blink, turning to look at him. He’s about my height, with dark brown hair and light brown eyes. He notices my curious look, and grins. “I’m Andrew, a senior. Nice to meet you. You new?” I nod.

“Keanu.” I say, softly. We shake hands.

“On the quieter side?” Andrew asks. I nod. Andrew rolls his shoulders back. “We’ve got a pretty good team, and every year a bunch of students try out. But, it’s typically always the same people who’re chosen unless they drop out or graduate.” That makes sense. Mr. Harrison suddenly comes before us in the dugout, and claps his hands.

“Alright! When I call your name, I want you to take a warm up lap and start stretching.”

When my name is called right before Andrew’s, we both drop our gloves and start jogging together. Andrew’s quite talkative, and he doesn’t seem to mind me being on the quieter side. He seems really cheery and enthusiastic about baseball.

“I’m not annoying you, am I?” Andrew asks as we start to stretch our arms. “I’ve been told that I talk too much.”

“Nah, it’s alright.” I offer him a shy half-grin, and he beams.

Our tryouts start with throwing back and forth with partners, and we have to spread out pretty far, because there are some really haphazardly thrown baseballs. Andrew’s got great aim, and a strong throw. Mr. Harrison seems to be content with the time we’ve had to warm up, and we start our base running.

I hate base running, even though it’s one of the things I’m pretty decent at. We start in a line, and as soon as someone hits the first base bag, the next person goes.

“If anyone is overtaken, that’s two burpees for the entire group!” Mr. Harrison calls. He’s got a stopwatch, and I have no idea how long he wants us to go for, but my legs are burning and I almost trip over the third base bag on my fifth round. Thankfully, I don’t have to run another one, and I slump against the fence, grabbing my water bottle and chugging it down.

“My legs feel like Jell-O.” Andrew exhales heavily as he pushes back against the fence next to me. I wiggle my feet in response, and Andrew chuckles. “I think we’re practicing batting and fielding next.” The two of us watch as Mr. Harrison drags the pitching machine to the pitcher’s mound, and assigns everyone a spot. I’m currently in left field, with two others.

We alternate turns after each successful hit, and then we’re moved to center field. Andrew’s up next to bat, and I can tell by his form that he’s definitely a good batter. His form is sturdy, and sure enough, when the ball went through the pitching machine, crack.

If this had been in a stadium, it would’ve been an out-of-the-park hit. But, since there were no walls preventing me from trying to catch it…

My legs were still tired from the base running, but my eyes were locked on the tiny white dot, taking a couple steps back before turning and running, keeping my gaze on the baseball.

“Heads!” I heard the others scream. I knew that they weren’t screaming at me. They were screaming at the boys who were trying out for football. Although the campus was pretty big, the football fields were pretty close to the baseball pitch. The American football fields were on the other side of the campus, where there was more open space.

My eyes flicker away briefly from the ball to make sure I wasn’t going to run into the football goal and get tangled in the net. Some of the football players had heard the cry, and looked up. They saw me, and the small dot getting larger, and immediately moved out of the way.

It was a bit of a stretch if I wanted to catch it, but I pushed myself further and took a dive, hearing that satisfying smack of the ball in my glove. Dammit, that hurt. I felt the sting, but I soon forgot about it as I heard distant cheers from the baseball field.

“That was a wicked catch.” I glance up as one of the football players comes over, offering a hand to help me up. I take it, and he easily hauls me to my feet. I snag my cap from the ground.

“Thanks,” I’m out of breath, and I wave at him, before I hurry back to the edge of the football field, before throwing the ball back to an outfielder who’d approached me. He caught the throw, then turned to throw to the second baseman.

“That was incredible.” The outfielder was wild-eyed, and lifted his glove for a high-five. “You’ve got an arm, too.” He adds sheepishly, shaking out his arm.

“Sorry...” Mr. Harrison’s calling of my name has me looking up, and he’s waving me over.

“That was an incredible catch just now. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a man move as fast as you did right there.” I feel flustered, after having gotten three compliments in a row. What was this? I’m so unaccustomed to getting compliments of any kind.

“I- uh, thank you. Sir.” I stammer. Mr. Harrison chuckles.

“Just call me Coach.”

“But what about during class?”

“You can still call me Coach.”

“Alright, Coach.” Mr. Harrison beams, before handing me a bat.

“Your turn! Smack one out of the park, and let’s see if anyone else can go Sonic.” I snort, earning a playful smack on the back.