Imperfectly Beautiful (Jordan Knight Fanfic, Liadan #3)

Speed and Sponsors

-LOGAN-

Deep breath in, deep breath out. Stay in alignment. Keep eyes focused. Fluid, controlled movements. Throw.

My heart skipped a beat as I felt the leather ball escape my fingertips before I watched it soar down the practice tunnel and land in my father's awaiting mitt with a thump. Every muscle in my body was tense and anxious as I watched him glance at the radar.

"Great job, kiddo," Dad turned to me with his almost ever-present smile and adjusted the Red Sox cap that was turned backwards on his head. "You're really getting your fastball speed up there."

"I hit seventy?"

He nodded and I felt my excitement build to hear that magic number that I'd been working so hard to achieve.

"You're right at 68 miles per hour."

And just like that my hopes came crashing down again.

"Let's try it again then," I sighed and held my hand up for him to toss the ball back.

"You've got a really strong arm for your age, Logan, don't beat yourself up because it isn't exactly seventy. It's close."

"Maybe, but I don't need it to be close. I already asked coach about the speeds of some of the guys playing JV and I can't guarantee that I'll make it this year with anything below a seventy."

"Well, it's okay if you don't make it, Logan," Dad said as he bounced the baseball in his own hand without throwing it back. "Going out for the JV team should just be a learning experience right now and if you make it then great, but if you don't, it won't hurt if you wait another year until you're actually in high school to make it. You're growing and going through puberty, it might just take you some time to get your speed up and there's nothing wrong with that."

I sighed. That was basically the same thing he'd said for the past two weeks when he'd brought me to practice after getting off from working at the local children's theater.

All my life I'd dreamed of one thing and one thing only—and that was to play for the Boston Red Sox. I could clearly remember excitedly playing with a plastic Little Tikes ball and bat set in the backyard with my older siblings and taking t-ball seriously even as a tiny preschooler. Throughout my years of moving up through Little League, eventually joining a traveling baseball team, and excelling on my jr. high team, I'd only gotten more and more invested in my love for the sport. Still, my journey so far hadn't been void of its share of difficulties and I was determined to push myself beyond all limits.

Much to my dismay, I hadn't been lucky enough to inherit my mother's right-handedness—rather, like my father, I was a southpaw which came with pros and cons in the world of baseball. On one hand, lefties were valued and well overrepresented in the sport in comparison to the general population, but on the other hand, a lot of the aspects of the game from the flow of play to the designs of stadiums were catered to righties. Thus, left-handed baseball players were typically relegated to placement in only a few positions and I knew I had to be the best to enhance my chances of ever making it all the way to the majors.

Growing up in Boston, I came from a sports-loving family as part of the culture, but neither of my parents took my playing all that seriously. They were extremely supportive—constantly rooting for me at every game, practicing with me whenever I wanted, and buying whatever supplies I needed, but they were nowhere near the crazed team parents that I'd witnessed kicking and screaming and pitching a fit on the sidelines about their sons' "future careers in the MLB". As far as my mom and dad were concerned, baseball was an activity that I enjoyed at the moment—not my future career. They didn't discourage me from dreaming of playing for the Red Sox, in fact they always told me I could do anything I wanted to, but they firmly believed that I had a whole world of opportunities ahead of me that may or may not include baseball.