Newsies One Shots

Better than a Homerun

Modern AU 

The sun was shining brightly, the air was crisp, and the excitement was strong. Finally the early spring season had come. And everyone knows what that means. Baseball. The time for peanuts and cracker jacks. Long hours sitting in the cool air until the summer heat came as night fell upon the sky, under the bright lights. The stands filled with family and friends, while the smell of sweet grass, fresh dirt, and sunscreen filled the air.

"Remind me again why I'm awake before 9 A.M. on a weekend?" Davey asked as he kept a tight grip on the cup of coffee.

"We're here to support the fellas Davey," Jack reminded as he clapped Davey on the back. "Remember?" he asked with a cheeky smile.

"Yes. But I don't know why we had to be here the same time the team had too," Davey pointed out bitterly.

"To get good seats!" the boys, and Feister all replied as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"It's high school baseball!" Davey yelled out loud. "Does anything even remotely interesting happen?" Davey had witnessed plenty of pee-wee baseball games thanks to Les. So he can say with full confidence that absolutely nothing happens. Some kids trip over their own two feet, others just stand there and do nothing. There's the kids who try to slide to home-base, the ones who kick dirt, those who miss the ball and get angry about it (same goes for getting three strikes). And lastly, there's always that ONE kid who's older/taller than everyone else and obviously belongs in a different pee-wee division. And Davey should know, HE'S THE COACH. (which he didn't want to be, but Les suckered him into doing it because no one else wanted the job). He's gone home more bruised and dirty than the kids who play! So what difference could high school baseball be?

"Oh c'mon Davey this is gonna be WAY more interestin' than watchin' little rugrats run around and kick ya in the shins," Feister said with a bright smile.

"Hey! Those rugrats may be annoying elementary kids, but at least there's a fine line with respect for their coach," Davey exclaimed as his cheeks flushed a deep shade of red.

"Davey, you do know that no one in their right mind actually wants to coach the 992 division. They're a nightmare to deal with," Jojo replied. "I coached those ankle-biters two summers ago....I quit halfway through the season." he shuddered at the haunting memory.

"To deal with kids it takes a gentle hand," Davey pointed out, trying to convince Jojo that coaching elementary kids wasn't SO bad.

"The high school will literally give any poor sucker extra credit just to coach those monsters!" Jojo shouted.

"Hey! That's my team you're talking about here!" Les yelled in an offended tone. His team wasn't awful, they just weren't the best. Right now that is. Because they will get better.

"Twenty minutes in line and all that place had were hot dogs, pizza, and lots of sugar. Both in beverage and candied form," Henry said as he came back to the seats. "Now I love a good slice of old fashion pizza and soda, but....if that tiny building had a stove I'm sure they could make somethin' less grease filled."

"Oh yeah cause nothin' says baseball like a well cooked steak and mashed potatoes with little baby veggies and smiley faces," Albert said sarcastically as he walked up to the fence. Resting the baseball bat on his shoulder and laughed. "C'mon Hen, it's baseball. It's what America was built upon. Along with that ancient George W dude and the guy who wrote Hamilton."

"Albert, is this why your entire history report on Alexander Hamiton was just the plot to the musical?" Jack questioned, finally putting two and two together on why the redhead had gotten an F minus.