Edge and Belle

Chapter 7 (Belle): Audacity

Since it was my turn to bring snacks and drinks to practice, I was lagging behind West and Piper as I rolled the cooler behind me. West was carrying his helmet, bat and glove, and Piper was carrying the bag of granola bars for me. Making our way to the bleachers, we settled there, West running ahead to the team's dugout.

I was chatting with a couple of the other moms, one of them, Monica, a single mom like myself, and Piper was chattering animatedly with her group of girls.

"Welllll, hel-lo, handsome," Monica suddenly interrupted our discussion of the snack schedule. She nodded at me. "Your man sure fills out a pair of jeans very nicely."

My man? -- Oh, no. Nope, nope, nope. I turned and saw Edge walking toward the ball field. He looked right at me, smiled, then held up his hand to wave hello, but continued walking toward the coach who greeted him with a huge smile and a handshake. They talked a minute, then Coach handed Edge a clipboard and a Slayers ballcap that Edge immediately fitted onto his head. The two men continued talking for a few more minutes, and my eyes bounced from them to West, who was eyeballing Edge, a little storm cloud building on his face. My boy's eyes shot to me and I shrugged, as if to say I didn't know why Edge was here, talking to Coach.

Before West could come ask me what was going on, Coach called the boys together and we all listened as he explained that Coach Edge would be helping out the team and would be third-base coach during the games. During practices, he'd help with fielding and batting so Coach could concentrate on the three pitching and catching teams and strategizing plays.

West threw me a grumpy look that broke my heart...and somehow also managed to accuse me at the same time. If Edge and I had been together, my little boy would have been over the moon that Edge was helping to coach his team. Now? My son looked ready to take a bat to Edge's knees. I might even help him.

Coach ran practice a little differently since he now had some official help (Guys, Coach Edge here played baseball for a D1 college team!). He took the six pitchers and catchers on one side of the field and sent the rest of the team over to Edge on the other side of the field. 

Edge began working with the boys on fielding techniques, helping them practice by hitting ground balls and pop ups to them, then having the person who caught the ball in the field throw it to the player standing next to Edge, who would toss the ball to their new coach. Then the boy who caught the ball would run out and replace the boy who threw the ball, who would then run to the back of the line.

The drill was going fine until it was West's turn in the field. He dropped the pop up, then frustrated or a little embarrassed or maybe just plain pissed off, he threw the ball as hard as he could right at Edge. I gasped as the ball headed straight for Edge's face. At the last second, he popped his hand up, right in front of his face, and caught the baseball barehanded. We all cringed at the loud smack we could hear from the bleachers as the ball hit his palm.

Edge marched right to West, and I had to resist running out there. To protect my boy? I should have known better. Mad as I was at Edge, he'd been nothing but patient and fair with my children. He crouched in front of West, speaking quietly to him. West looked away from him, and after what seemed like a long time, he looked back at Edge and I saw his little mouth moving.

Edge gave him a nod, stood back up and resumed practice while my boy ran the bases three times before resuming his place in the fielding practice line.

His face was a bit sweaty but I didn't think he'd be throwing a ball at his new coach's face again. I knew I would have to discipline him later....but I was sorely tempted to lecture him while he ate a hot fudge sundae that I wanted to make for him. Not as a reward. Pfft. No. That would be terrible parenting. It would simply be for the purpose of restoring his sugar levels after practice.