Chapter 8
It was opening day for the Ventura Coastal Little League Fall Ball season, a three-month stretch of additional baseball made possible by the great weather of Southern California.
During games, Jackson sat in his usual high perch behind home plate on the third-base side. Hoodie and shades. Anonymous. Observing. His spot in the stands that he would come to for the laughter, for the innocence, for the solace. His spot where nostalgia would liquefy his eyes.
Today, however, a special day. All the age brackets were in the ballpark at once, the pee-wee tee-ballers, or as parents and coaches loved to refer to them, the herding cats division. Then there were the minors, the majors, the intermediates, the juniors and the big kids, the seniors up to age sixteen.
The juniors and seniors
