Poston

Chapter ten : Baseball and War

Nino took a deep breath. "Okay," he said to the group of teenage boys in front of him. "Uh... welcome. My name is Kazunari Ninomiya, and I will be your coach for this spring's baseball season, the first ever here at Poston." He stopped to see if anyone was really interested or not. In all honesty, he couldn't tell. Some boys looked like they were listening, but others looked like they were there just because they had nothing better to do.

In Poston, that excuse would actually be believable.

"Right, so," Nino continued. "How many of you have played on an actual baseball team before?"

Most of the group raised their hands.

"Good!" Nino let out a sigh of relief. "Good, then everybody should know the rules, right? As far as positions go, that will take a while to determine what spot is the best for you."

"When are you deciding a pitcher?" a boy in the front row asked.

"Do you want to be a pitcher?"

"Yes, sir."

Nino scowled. "Don't call me 'sir'. My father is a 'sir'. Your father's are 'sir'. The guys in the post right up there keeping watch are 'sir'. I am here to teach you baseball."

"So you're our teacher?" a boy next to the first one asked. "We call you Mr. Ninomiya?"

"No, not that either. Being called 'Mr. Ninomiya' is just as bad as being called a 'sir'."

"Then, Coach Ninomiya," the first boy said. "Or just Coach?"

Nino sighed. "Coach is fine. Your name is...?"

"Yuto Nakajima," the boy answered. "I was a pitcher for the Los Angeles High School baseball team."

"Oh, really?" Nino couldn't help but smile. "I went to school there. I was a pitcher too. We went to state a few times. I hope that you had a chance to do that before you came."

Yuto frowned. "No, Coach. We never had the opportunity. As soon as I started the baseball season there, we came here. I never had a chance to play."

"We never had a chance to play," the boy next to him added. "I'm Yuri Chinen, Coach. Me and Yuto have been friends since kindergarten. We were on the same team, but we were nearly kicked off the team because we're Japanese."

"You are Japanese Americans," Nino corrected. "Or better yet, just Americans. Unless you were born under the care and guidance of the emperor or surrounded by floating sakura petals as you were born, you are completely American."

"What if we were born in Japan?" another boy asked. "Ryosuke Yamada, sir. I was born in Japan right before my parents immigrated here."

"Do you feel like you are Japanese? Or do you feel like you are American?"

Ryosuke pondered. "I feel more American than anything," he said truthfully.

"Then you are American." He saw a look of confusion on the rest of the crowd's faces. "Look," Nino said drawing them in. "Your heart belongs to wherever or whoever it belongs to. If you heart is not in Japan, then you should not be counted as a citizen. Citizenship is just a piece of paper. If you feel like you are American and you speak American and you love anything that has to do with America, then by all means you should be an American. To get your citizenship in the future might be difficult, but one day it will be obtainable." Nino stopped when he realized he was blabbering. He stood up straight and cleared his throat, but by now he had all of the kids' attention. "Okay, everybody, I have made bases over in this empty field. I have a bat that we will share, but be careful with it. It's my boyf—I mean, my friends' bat. When I point to you and give you a position, do not argue."