Catalyst of Dreams

2. The Community League

It was a pretty warm day but not hot enough to keep everyone inside, not that they would have today. The baseball tournament is one of the biggest events that our community looks forward to. The community league is made up of five teams. The teens from our complex make up one team and the visitor teams are made up of students from the neighboring towns. It is a friendly competition set up to increase good relations. It is also a  way for the teens to stay in training in the off-season.  Many of the students from the neighboring towns also come to take English lessons from the parents who had time to teach in the afternoons. Kenta is one of those students and my dad is not only his teacher, but also his coach.

“Hi Mr. Lewis!”

My dad, with a too-serious expression on his face, turns around in the dugout and looks over to where Lilia and I are sitting in the bleachers, eating our corn dogs. He is a tall, dark-haired man with a clean-shaven face and brown eyes that light up when he sees us. My eyes. 

“Hi girls!” he calls back, “Lilia, I hope you’re not scoping insider information for the enemy.”

“I would never!” Lilia says in pretend shock. “My dad doesn’t pay me enough in chore money to get anything out of me anyways.” 

“OH is that right?” bellows a deep male voice from behind us.

“Eek! Dad! How long have you been standing there!?”

“Hello Dunkaroo!” I merrily greet the coach of the community team. His build is a bit bigger than my dad's, but he has blond hair that matches the hint of beard on his chiseled face.

“Good afternoon Beanstalk!” he greets back.

I smile at the nickname. I started calling Mr. Duncan, Dunkaroo years ago when he and my dad were having a competitive banter over who would win the league tournament that year. It resorted to name-calling in which he called my dad, Mr. Lewis, Loser-Lewis. Lilia and I were nearby and snacking on cookies dipped in white frosting with sprinkles in which I piped up,

“Not so fast Duncan-Dunkaroo.”

It was the best I could come up with as an nine-year old but it seized their arguing and they both laughed. 

“What do you have to say about it, Beanstalk?” 

“Beanstalk?”

“Yes. You’re Bree, the Beanstalk. You’re tall but a skinny-mini” he answered with a laugh.

“That’s not funny!” but it was actually really funny and we laughed, forgetting about the bantering. I was tall and lanky for my age like my dad was when he was younger. My grandparents would joke that I could be his mini-me if I was a boy. And since then, the nicknames stuck except for “Loser-Lewis” because my dad’s team has won every year since.

“Dad’s team is going to win again this year. His pitcher is pitching in the high eighties now” I chime.

Mr. Duncan couldn’t hide behind his shock. He examines the smirk my dad now has on his face.

“Kenta is pitching strong after his pitcher’s elbow last year?” Mr. Duncan asks unbelieving.

“He’s got the best physical therapists money can buy. His parents want him going pro after high school” my dad answers, almost like a proud father.

Truth is, Kenta is my dad’s favorite student and player. My dad loves his family and his duty to his country, but if there’s something he and the people of Japan love, it’s baseball. He couldn’t help but see all of his past potential in his star player. 

Mr. Lewis was the epitome of an all-American boy. He was the star of his baseball team in high school and had a pending scholarship for the University of North Carolina. Unfortunately his parents were poor and facing bankruptcy. He couldn’t afford to move across the country so he did what most men did in his situation and enlisted. Part of why he works as an English instructor and a coach is because it pays really well and he can afford to send the extra money home to his parents in the states. 

The first year Mr. Lewis agreed to coach the neighboring team, they lost. He lucked out when Kenta joined the team the next year. He was strong and confident and gave the other guys on the team the spark they needed to train harder and get better. They have become unbeatable since.

“Well this is the first game of the season, so we will see just how good his therapists are” Mr. Duncan says bitterly before turning and heading to his own team’s dugout.

“Do you think they will stay friendly this year?” I ask Lilia as we watch both coaches at their respective dugout prepping their team.

“Probably not. But I don’t really care to stick around to find out. After the game we are leaving and if we lose, I would rather spend the next couple of hours having fun.”

I wish she wanted to stay but I understand. If her dad’s team lost, he would spend the whole visit to her grandmother’s in an endless rant about how he didn’t have enough resources to make his team better or that his kids were too focused on girls rather than their own training. That last part is true. Lindsey’s boyfriend, Kyle Matthews is the star pitcher on the community team, and he spent way too much time sucking faces with Lindsey behind the library to be training. 

I shudder at the thought.

“Well there’s supposed to be a new store opening that’s only up the street. Maybe they have new scented lip gloss!” I say with promise.

“Oooh! Yes! And maybe I can find new stationary so I can write you while I’m away.”

“Aww don’t remind me. I hate when you’re gone too long. This is our last summer together.” I almost couldn’t say the last part. 

We try not to mention it but being in a military family meant moving a lot. Japan feels like my first real home. Prior to here, we moved a few times from base to base in the states. I really don’t remember much, probably because I didn’t hang out with too many kids then. 

As we climb down from the bleachers, I feel someone staring at me. I look around before I spot Kenta looking at me as he walks confidently backwards toward the pitcher’s mound. Is that a smile?

I brave another look but he has already turned around, picking up pace to the mound.

 No... 

It was only a second that we happened upon each other’s gaze. I shake the thought from my head and follow Lilia out of the fence-line for the field. 

It was just a coincidence.

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