Date: Wed, 10 Aug 2011 06:52:48 -0700 (PDT)
From: Joe Hunter <hunterjoe45@yahoo.com>
Subject: Baseball Diamond Tails - 2D

All the usual disclaimers apply:

+This story is a work of fiction.  If you think it is real, you have a very
active imagination.

+Do not read this story if you live in an area where it is illegal to do
so.

+Scenes of sexual activity between an adult male and a young boy are
represented.  Do not read further if this offends you.

+Please do not imitate the actions portrayed herein - the author cannot
accept responsibility for any actions promoted by this story.

If you would like to get in touch, please e-mail me at:

			hunterjoe45@yahoo.com

I hope you enjoy reading this story as much as I enjoyed writing it.
Support Nifty!   Joe

____________________________


BASEBALL DIAMOND TAILS - 2D
(copyright 2011, Joe Hunter)

::::::::::::::::::
 Catcher:  Part D
::::::::::::::::::

At work on Monday, I tried to think of a way I could help Todd with his
father.

Todd and I had spent two hours with the weights the previous day and he had
loved it.  My little catcher had a natural talent for lifting and obviously
enjoyed the sheer physical sensation of pushing his body's limits.

I tried to think of a way to convince his father to let me train Todd with
the weights on some regular schedule.  I also wanted his father to
encourage Todd to join a wrestling team in the fall and winter.  I
suspected it might be his best sport.  I worried at the problem for a while
without thinking of any good solutions and decided to let it sit on the
back burner for a bit.

When I got to the practice field that afternoon, Todd and Pauli were ahead
of me as usual.  The boys waved and ran over to greet me.

"Hi, Coach!"  Todd yelled happily.  He looked sweaty and dirty and had a
big grin.  "I've been working on my throw to second with Pauli."

I nodded in approval.  "Way to go, guys."  The boys slapped palms with me
and then I looked up at the cloudless sky.  "It's gonna' be a hot one this
afternoon!"  I yanked the big equipment bags out of the truck.  Todd and
Pauli picked up one, I took the other and we brought them to the edge of
the field.

"Coach?"  Todd asked as we set the bags down, "Will you please tell Pauli
that I'm really the starting catcher."

"Yup," I said to Pauli, "He's the man."

"Told ya'," Todd said proudly.

Pauli gave his friend an envious look.  He was a runty, skinny kid about an
inch shorter than Todd.  But even though small, he was wiry and tough.  He
didn't smile much, but when he did he seemed like a nice enough kid.

"How's your team doin', Pauli?"  I asked him.

The boy shrugged.  "OK."

"I've been watching you guys," I said, gesturing to the adjacent field.
"You look pretty good to me."

"Yeah," Todd agreed.  "We've been scouting you."

"I think you're on one of the best teams this year," I told him.

Pauli shrugged again.

"How's it goin' for you in practice?"  I asked, trying to get the boy to
talk.  "Are the coaches teaching you stuff?"

Pauli thought about this, and then answered, "I guess so."

"What position do they have you playing?"

"Different ones," Pauli said, evading my eye.

We unpacked the equipment and I got things set up.  Over on the other field
some boys were gathering and then a car pulled up next to them.  "That's
you're coach coming now, Pauli," I said, pointing.  He picked up his glove
and scampered off.

"Pauli says his coach yells a lot," Todd told me.

I smiled at him.  "Well, you know Todd, every coach is different.  Pauli's
coach is pretty good.  Besides, I yell, too, sometimes."

Todd grinned.  "Yeah, Coach.  But when you do it we deserve it.  Nobody
minds that."

Our practice went nicely that day.  I had a lot of inexperienced youngsters
on the team that year and I knew we would not win many games.  But the boys
were all learning, and they worked together well, so I was content.

"Thursday night is the last practice game," I told them as we finished up.
"Then Opening Day, Saturday.  You pitchers and catchers will be doing extra
work tomorrow on the signs, so be on time.  And on Wednesday we'll do extra
batting practice.  I'm taking you all to the cage!"

The boys cheered excitedly when I held up a couple of rolls of quarters.
"We'll use the 50 mph lane," I said, "And the coaches are going to count
the hits.  The winner gets a sundae at Dairy Queen!"  This brought more
cheers and grins.

"Now, on Thursday," I continued, "Make sure you come in full uniform.  No
uniform, no play!  And, Todd, you and Charlie..." Charlie was Todd's backup
at catcher, "Make sure you have your cups on!"  There was much laughter at
this.  "I want everyone to leave the field with the same number of balls
they came with!"  Even more laughter and cheering...

"OK, guys," I told them all, "Good practice.  Let's roll it up.  I'll see
you tomorrow."

The boys drifted off, laughing and joking, heading towards their bikes or
the cars of waiting parents.  Todd and I gathered all the equipment and
packed it up.  I took one of the heavy bags over to my truck and threw it
in the back, but as I headed back for the second Todd came running up to
me.  He looked upset.

"Coach, you better look at Pauli.  He's crying and he says he's going to
quit."

I turned immediately and started walking quickly towards the trees where
the boys parked their bikes.  Todd trotted after me.  "I think he might be
hurt."

I broke into a run.

Pauli was huddled on the ground by his bike with his face turned away.  I
could hear him crying softly as I knelt down next to him.  "What's wrong,
Pauli?  Are you hurt?"  I took hold of his shoulder.  "Talk to me son."

Pauli shook his head, keeping his face averted.  With my hand on his
shoulder I turned him toward me, and what I saw made me swear.

"God damn it!"

Pauli's right eye was puffy and swollen shut.  A huge bruise was forming
all around the orbit.  There was a cut under his eye that was bleeding
freely.  When I reached to touch it Pauli flinched away.

"Stop that son!"  I told him.  "Hold still."

I pressed very gently.  Everything seemed more or less in place, but I knew
that facial bones could be cracked.

I picked the boy up in my arms.  "Todd," I ordered, "Bring your bike and
Pauli's to the truck."

I carried Pauli over and sat him in my passenger seat.  "Everything's going
to be all right, son," I assured him.  Then I got an ice pack from my first
aid kit and instructed Pauli to hold it on his eye.  Opening my cellular
phone, I called the league president and told him we had an injured boy.

"I'm gonna' swing by and get his parents and then take him to the ER for
x-rays," I told him.  I asked him to call Bill, Pauli's coach, and have him
meet us at the hospital.

After retrieving the second equipment bag I loaded the two bikes into the
truck and put Todd in next to Pauli.  "Navigate me to Pauli's house, Todd,"
I said as we started off, "I don't know where he lives."

Todd nodded anxiously.  "Coach?  Is Pauli going to be OK?"

"I think so.  You and I are gonna' take him to the hospital to be sure."

On the way to Pauli's house I dragged the story of what had happened out of
the boy.

"I missed a grounder," he said in a little choked voice.  "Coach yelled at
me.  He said it was because I was afraid of the ball."  He up looked at me
in appeal.  "I'm not afraid of the ball.  I'm not!  It's just that
sometimes I just miss getting to it."  He brushed tears off his face.
"Coach hit one right at me as hard as he could.  I got in front of it.  But
it b-b-bounced and h-h-h-hit me," he sobbed.  "It hurt."

"All right, Pauli.  All right."  I put my arm around him and gave the boy a
hug.  "Didn't you tell coach that you were hurt?"

He nodded miserably and brushed away more tears.  "Y-y-yes.  H-h-he told me
not to be a baby."

"All right, son.  All right," I soothed.  "I know you're not a baby, son.
I know how brave you are."

Pauli's neighborhood was a street of shabby one-story cinder block houses
and his was set amid a weedy lawn that needed mowing.  I knocked on the
streaked front door.  I had to knock hard several times before I got a
response.  A fat young woman wearing dirty shorts and a halter-top opened
the door.  I introduced myself and asked, "Are you Pauli's mother?"

She shook her head.  "My sister's not here.  She's working."

When I explained that Pauli had been hit in the eye by a baseball the young
woman did not seem much concerned.

"He's always getting hurt.  Is he OK?"

"I'm pretty sure he's OK," I lied, "But I think it would be smart to have a
few x-rays to be safe.  The league has insurance that will pay for it, so
if it's OK with you, I'd like to take him to the hospital just as a
precaution."

"Sure," she said.  "You want my sister's number at work?"

She gave it to me.  "I'll call her from the hospital," I told her.

I got back in the truck and headed for the ER.  Getting Pauli checked in
and examined was the usual hassle, but finally the x-rays were done, and
Pauli got a once over by an eye doctor who assured me his eyeball was
undamaged.

As we waited for the x-rays to be evaluated, I sent Todd with some money to
the vending machines to get Pauli a soda.  Then, while he was gone, I sat
down next to the boy and said, "I'm really sorry this happened, Pauli.  I'm
sure coach didn't mean to hurt you."

Pauli shrugged.  "It don't matter.  I'm gonna' quit anyway."

I got down on one knee in front of his seat and gripped his arms.  "Don't
do that, son," I pleaded.  "Please don't do that.  Don't lose faith in your
team, and your coach and yourself.  Listen to me, Pauli."  I stared into
his swollen face.  "I'm telling you.  I know how much courage it took to
stay in front of that ball.  OK, it bounced and hit you - but you still
stopped it.  Only a very few boys have that kind of heart, Pauli.  You're
one of them.  You're a fine, young, courageous ballplayer.  Any coach would
be proud to have you!"

Pauli looked down.  "He don't want me," he said miserably.  "I'm the worst
player on the team."

I gripped his arms hard.  "No!"  I told him fiercely.  "Don't ever say
that!  It's a lie!  I'll tell you where the worst players are, Pauli."  I
made a sweeping gesture with my arm.  "They're all the kids out there.  The
ones who sit at home every day and play video games and never even try to
play."  I shook him gently.  "You went and found the registration money,
Pauli.  You got yourself signed up for a team.  You've gone to every
practice and worked hard to learn things and improve.  You're not the worst
player, Pauli.  The worst players are all the kids who never tried!"

Pauli kept looking down.  He brushed his face with his hand.  "Why can't I
be on your team?"  He asked with a sob.

Todd came back as Pauli asked this.  He handed Pauli a Coke.

"Yeah," Todd said to me.  "Why can't he, Coach?"

I smiled at Pauli and pulled his chin up so he was looking at me with his
good eye.  "That is the very nicest thing you could have said to me," I
told him gently.  "I won't ever forget it.  But, I'm just one guy.  I can't
coach everyone.  And you already have a team.  It's a good one.  And you
already have a coach who wants you.  Remember, Pauli, he drafted you to be
on his team.  He picked you, not some other kid.  OK, he let you down
today.  I'm not saying he didn't.  But I'm sure he didn't mean to.  Don't
give up on him yet."

I looked out the ER doors and saw Pauli's coach coming in from the parking
lot.  I got up.  "I'll be right back boys," I said.  "Todd, you stay with
him.  Don't leave him alone."

I went and caught Pauli's coach as he came in.  He looked very worried.
"What happened?"  He asked anxiously.  "How is he?"

"His eye's all right," I reassured him.  "They're checking his x-rays now
to be sure nothings broken."

"Thank God!"  His coach took a breath and stared at me anxiously.  "I swear
I didn't think it was that bad."

"I know that."  I drew him off to the side where we could talk quietly.
"Bill, he's just a little fellow, and he doesn't field that well.  You
can't hit rockets at him."

"I was trying to teach him not to be afraid of the ball," Bill said
defensively.  "He's going to see some like that in games."

"Then use him in the outfield if he can't field the hot ones," I told him
reasonably.  "Besides, Bill, how afraid can he be?  He had the guts to get
in front of this one.  And he stopped it, too."  I paused a moment, and
then added, "Bill, he's talking about quitting."

Bill frowned and made an irritable gesture.  "Well, maybe he should.  He's
not that good, and he's trouble waiting to happen.  It's a lousy family.
He and his brothers all smoke dope.  I mean...  I caught him rolling one
right after practice last week.  He's a bad influence on the other boys.
I'm a lot better off without him."

I shook my head.  "But is he better off without you, Bill?  Isn't that the
real point?"

After giving him a moment to think about that I went on, "OK, I agree.
He's all the things you say he is.  But Bill, don't you see?  He could have
stayed home this summer and done whatever kids like him do.  Smoke,
shoplift, get into trouble... whatever.  But he didn't.  Somehow he got the
money for the registration fee and signed up to play ball with his friends.
And you drafted him.  You made a commitment.  And he's been faithful to
you.  He's come to every one of your practices.  All he wants is a chance
to have fun and play in some games."

I gave Bill a hard stare.  "Do you really want his memories of this summer
to be that you yelled at him and hit him in the eye with a baseball?  Don't
you want the little guy to have something more than that?

"What if this is his only chance, Bill?  What if he really is headed down
the roads we think he might be, and never has another summer like this with
a chance to play ball?  Wouldn't it be nice if he could have at least a few
good memories?  Of making a few plays or getting a hit in a game?  Or of
his coach telling him how well he had done?  Wouldn't it?"

Bill looked down at his hands.  "OK," he said, finally.  "You're right.
What should I do?"

I smiled.  "You know what to do, Bill," I told him gently.  "I've seen you
do it a hundred times."  I turned him toward where the boys were sitting.
"That's your little ball player over there and he's hurting.  I think his
coach needs to talk to him."

As Bill was about to go I held him for one final word.  "Tell the little
guy what courage he had to get in front of that ball and stop it.  Tell him
how proud of him you are."

Bill nodded.  He went over to Pauli and sat beside him while I beckoned for
Todd to join me.  While we watched Pauli and his coach talk, the doctor
came out to tell me that the x-rays were all fine and that we could go.  I
went and told Bill.

"Oh, that's great!"  He said.  He turned to Pauli.  "You hear that, Tiger?
Boy we're lucky you have a hard head!"  Pauli smiled.

"Thanks for everything," Bill told me.  "I'm going to take Pauli home."

I nodded.  "We'll drop off his bike."

On the way back, when we were alone in the truck, I reached over to give
Todd's firm thigh a squeeze.  "Listen Tee, I want you to make sure you tell
Pauli something."

The boy looked at me.

"Tell him that, whenever his team doesn't have a practice, I want him to
come practice with us, OK?"

Todd nodded.  "I think he'll like that, Coach."

"Yeah, well - his coach doesn't have to know about it.  Get me?"

My little catcher grinned.  "Yeah Coach, I'll tell him."

I worried about Pauli until I saw him, waiting with Todd, the next day when
I came to the field.  Not until then did I feel reassured that he still
wanted to play ball.

Because his team did not practice on Wednesday, Pauli joined us for our
team trip to the batting cage.  Several parents were on hand to help me get
all the boys over to the cage, which was at a putt-putt and driving range
out on the highway, and one was Todd's dad, who drove Todd and Pauli over
in his car.  It was an opportunity for me to chat with the man and we
talked for a while as I watched the boys hit.

"Todd told us what you did for Pauli," he told me.  "I want you to know my
wife and I were very impressed.  You obviously care about these boys very
much."

"All the coaches in our league care about the boys," I assured him.
"That's why they do this."

"Well, you seem to care more than most.  And the boys seem to sense it.  I
know Todd's enjoying baseball much more this year.  He's been very happy.
You're all he talks about.  He says every boy wants to be on your team."

"I'm lucky to have a chance to coach Todd," I said.  "He's a remarkable
boy."

Todd's dad gave me a curious look.  "You're the first coach to say that."

We were watching Todd work in the cage and when the boy fouled off a pitch
his father frowned.  "He still doesn't hit as well as he should."

"He's doing just fine," I told him firmly.  "He listens, takes instruction
well and he never stops trying to improve."  I was about to raise the
subject of the weight lifting and the wrestling when the other man turned
and said:

"We've been a little concerned about the friends Todd seems to make, but
since baseball started that's been much less of a problem.  Pauli seems a
nice enough boy, but..."

I nodded.  "Yeah, I know exactly what you mean.  And I think you should be
concerned.  I have some suggestions I'd like to talk over sometime that
might help."

"Yes.  I'd like to hear them.  You seem to know what you're doing."  He
paused a moment, and then, "I have no right to ask for this, but my wife
and I hope you could do us a favor."

"Certainly," I said.

"We're planning to be at the Opening Day game on Saturday," he went on,
"But neither of us can be at this practice game you're having tomorrow
night.  Would you do us the favor of seeing that Todd gets home all right?
We don't like the idea of him riding his bike on the roads at night."

"Sure," I told him warmly.  "And, listen.  You don't have to worry about
asking me for favors.  I'm delighted to do anything to help you with Todd."

So we left it that I would take Todd home from the game on the following
night.

I always enjoyed practice games because I could fiddle around with my
lineups and give the boys chances to play at different positions.  Also, I
could usually make a deal with the other coach to keep the score close.

The team we played Thursday night was the one I thought would probably win
the league.  I was good friends with their coach and we made our usual
arrangement about the score.

"It'll be a chance to give my substitutes some playing time," he said.

"Even your subs will be too tough for my young guys," I told him, "So take
it easy."

We had a nice evening for our game, warm and humid, but no thunder boomers
threatening.  There was even a good crowd of parents, brothers, sisters,
and other assorted relatives plus kids from teams whose practices were
ending.  The field lights, recently overhauled, were all working for a
change.  And, even though the regular snack bar was not open, some team
mothers were doing a brisk business in candy, soda and snacks out of the
back of a truck.

The game went pretty much as I expected.  The other team jumped out to an
early lead, but my friend rotated players and changed pitchers, which
allowed us to score a few runs to keep things close.  Our boys showed some
good defense, too, which kept their spirits up, including one nice little
play by Todd, pouncing on a short blunt and getting the ball to first in
time for the out.  He flashed me a quick little grin as he retrieved his
mask.

Even in full protective gear, when he crouched in back of home plate Todd
looked small and vulnerable.  But he went through the game with just a few
mistakes and only one big disaster.  This came about when Todd threw
completely over the third baseman's head on a runner stealing from second.
The run scored and Todd was shaking his head when he trotted to the dugout
at the end the inning.

"I got excited and rushed my throw, Coach," he explained with a frown.
"I'll do better next time."

Fateful words!

The next big moment, when it came, happened with dramatic suddenness as
things so often do in baseball.  It was the next to last inning with the
score 8-5 in favor of the other team.  We were in the field and had gotten
one out.  Their number three hitter came up, a big stocky boy, one of those
man-like fourteen-year-olds this team had in quantity.  He squirted a
sizzling grounder through the infield and took second on a bad throw from
my left fielder.

Todd stood at the plate watching that big base runner shift around on
second like he was just aching to get to third and home, and I knew my
little catcher was thinking about that overthrow he had made on the steal
earlier.  I saw him signal the third baseman to stay alert.

There was no need for a steal.  The next hitter swung at the first pitch
and stroked one right past our shortstop into center field.  When the base
runner saw the ball sail past the shortstop's outstretched glove he started
up the engines and began motoring to third.

One of my three veterans was in center, a tall wiry black kid who played
the position like a boy version of Willie Mays.  He charged in and scooped
the ball on one hop, but then his feet slipped on the turf and he appeared
to be falling.  Seeing this, the third-base coach swung his arm and waved
his runner around.  The big kid leaned in to the turn and charged for home
plate.

Then it happened.  My young Willie Mays made an incredible move, regained
his balance without falling and fired a frozen rope to home.  I knew
instantly what was going to happen.

There was going to be a play at the plate - the most dramatic moment in
baseball and the one most fraught with injury.  My nightmare scenario was
unfolding in front of me.  A huge base runner was bearing down on my
vulnerable little catcher.

Oh God, I thought.  Todd, just get out of his way!

But I knew the boy.  Who knew him better?  And I knew there was no way Todd
would not try to make the out.

I saw Todd standing at the plate with his helmet off, glove up and sweat
soaked uniform clinging to his body.  He looked like a statue.  The perfect
throw hit his glove in a puff of dust.  Then, with a look of implacable
determination Todd turned to face the oncoming runner.

League rules said a runner in that situation had to slide or be called out,
and the coaches taught that rule, but often in the excitement of play the
boys forgot.

I knew that fourteen year old was never going to slide.  He went into Todd
like a fullback hitting the line.  There was an audible "Wump" as the boys
collided.  Todd was hurled backwards and then slammed into the ground as
the big kid literally ran over him.  The umpire screamed, "Yer' out!" and
signaled to me, but I was already running toward the plate.

Oh God, I was praying to myself.  Merciful God, don't let him be hurt.

The crowd, which had been on its feet for the play, was silent.  At first,
seeing Todd lying so still and white, I was sure he was dead.  Then, as I
knelt beside him, I saw that his legs and arms were moving slightly.  I was
scared to death that his neck was broken.  His eyes opened as I touched his
cheek.  "Tee, Tee," I called.  "It's Coach."

He was stunned and disoriented, staring around wildly.  "Have I got the
ball?  Have I got the ball?"

He tried to get up, but I pushed him back and showed him his hand so he
could see the ball in it.  "You held on, Tee," I told him.  "He's out."

"He's out," Todd repeated, sinking back against my arm.  "He's out.  I got
him, Coach.  I've got the ball."

"OK, Todd," I told him.  "Be quiet now."

I ran my hands over the body I knew so well, checking for broken bones.
Todd was gradually regaining his wits.  I let him sit up and held his
shoulders.

"Give him a little time," I asked the umpire.

"Sure thing," the ump told me.  He got his broom out and started to whisk
the plate.

"I'm OK, Coach," Todd assured me.

"Try standing up," I said to him.  "Go easy now.  Let me help you."

With a slight assist, Todd got to his feet and everyone in the stands stood
up, cheering.  Todd looked at me and smiled.

"They're cheering for you, Tee," I told him proudly.  "Give them a little
wave."

Todd gave the crowd a grin and a wave.  They all cheered louder.

It was a big moment for Todd.  The biggest of the season as it turned out.
It was just a meaningless practice game in an anonymous youth league, but
great moments in sports come where you find them.  All the big plays are
not in the big leagues or the big games.  For Todd, this moment was
something he would always remember.

"Do you think you can stay in?"  I asked him.  I was uneasy about it, but
it wouldn't have been right to spoil his moment by taking him out if I
could help it.  He only had to get through one inning.

"I think so, Coach.  Let me try."

"OK.  Just give me the old sign if you need me."

"Thanks, Coach," Todd said smiling at me.

"No, son," I told him softly so only he could hear.  "Thank you, for making
me so proud of you."

He gave me a huge grin.  I turned toward the dugout and the crowd cheered
Todd once more as he put on his helmet.  Then umpire yelled, "Play ball!"

There were a few more nice moments for Todd before we finished.  At the end
of the inning, after they had gotten the third out, his teammates all ran
in and crowded around Todd patting him on the shoulders and escorting him
to the dugout.  He was up in that inning, and when he came to the plate he
got a big hand.  Then he got a hit, his first, and the crowd cheered him
again.

The end of the game went quickly.  We lost, but by that time no one noticed
or cared.  As he went to get his free candy bar afterward, Todd got a few
more congratulations from adults and kids that had been in the crowd.  I
noticed that he was very gracious to everyone and gave all the credit for
the play to the center fielder.  "It was his throw that made the play,"
Todd kept saying.  "I just caught the ball."

At last, the crowd thinned out and cars streamed from the parking lot.  I
put Todd in the passenger seat of my truck and told him to rest while I
packed up all the equipment and then checked both dugouts, turned off the
field lights and locked the gates.  When I got in on the driver side he was
sitting in his seat with his head back and a dreamy smile on his face.

We both sat quietly in the dark cab for a moment and then I said, "Tee, I'm
so proud of you tonight.  I just...  I don't know how to say it.  I'm just
very, very proud to be your coach tonight."

After a glance at me Todd stared down at his hands.  "Thanks, Coach," he
told me softly.  Then he turned to check out the window.  We were the only
vehicle left in the parking area.  He slid across the seat, put his arms
around me and hugged.  "Thanks," he whispered again.

I caressed him and held his head to my chest.  "You're the greatest kid in
the world," I murmured to him.  The boy's tight uniform pants were
stretched across his butt and I stroked the firm rounded curves.

Todd snuggled closer to me.  "I feel really good, Coach," he said dreamily.

"I know, Tee."  I petted him for a while, feeling his supple body under the
thin cotton uniform.

Suddenly Todd giggled and squirmed a little.  "Coach, guess what?"

"What?"

He giggled again.  "I'm hard under my cup."

"Oh, geez!" I laughed, "I think you're hard all the time!"

"No I'm not!"  Todd protested.  "Only when I'm with you!"

"Let's get something to eat," I said, pushing him back to the passenger
side and starting the truck.  "We've got something to celebrate tonight.
So what should we have?"

"Pizza!"  Todd shouted gleefully.

"Right!"  I cried in agreement.  But then I shook my head.  "Oh, man!"  I
said ruefully, "I forgot!"

"What Coach?"

I shook my head again.  "Your mom.  She left a healthy nutritious meal for
you in the oven.  Spinach and liver.  You're supposed to have that."

"Coach!"  Todd wailed.

I burst into laughter.

"Not!"

Reaching over I tickled him in the belly as hard as I could and Todd
doubled over giggling hysterically.  "Pizza, pizza," he called out as he
wriggled and laughed.

We stopped off at a Pizza Hut and I got a few pies for us - Todd's
favorites, sausage and pepperoni.  Taking them to his house we ate sitting
on high stools at the kitchen counter still wearing our dirty, sweaty
clothes and devoured hot slices washed down with cokes while we re-lived
the game and all its wonderful highlights.

"I liked the hit I got," Todd said happily.  "Did you see me, Coach?  I
used that level swing you showed me, and I kept my head down."

"Oh yeah, that was a nice one for sure," I told him.  "I think you're
really getting onto anticipating the pitch."  I looked at him, eyes
twinkling.  "But you know what my favorite play was."

Todd grinned hugely.

He was a slow, fastidious eater and liked to talk much more than he liked
to eat, so I was finished long before he was.  I looked around.  I had
never been in Todd's house before.  It was large, beautifully furnished and
so clean and tidy it was hard to imagine anyone actually living there.

I went to a memo pad that was mounted on the wall by the phone, got a clean
piece of paper and a pen, and then sat at the counter to write something as
Todd watched curiously.

"What's that, Coach?"

"Finish up first," I told him.  "Then I'll show you."

Eagerly Todd chewed, swallowed his last slice and looked expectantly at me.

"Wash your hands," I said.

He jumped up and went to the sink.  "What is it?"  He begged after drying
his hands.

I showed him the paper.  On it I had put the date and written, in my best
handwriting:

----------------------------------------------------- For Todd - so he will
always remember this day.

		Bravery in Adversity.

		Courage in the Face of Overwhelming Odds.

You are a true champion.  I am proud to be your coach.
------------------------------------------------------

Below it I had signed my name.

Todd read the paper slowly.  When he raised his head to look at me his eyes
were full and shining.

"Do you have a scrapbook, Todd?"  I asked.

He nodded.  "My mom used to keep one for me," he said wistfully.  "I still
have it."

"Let's put this in it," I suggested.  "I want you to keep this always."

We went to his room, Todd holding the paper carefully in his hands.  His
room was not as neat as the rest of the house.  Car models crowded the
shelves and a few model airplanes hung on threads from the ceiling.  Items
of clothing were scattered on the floor.  His bed was made, not too well,
with a coverlet decorated in baseball bats, balls and gloves.

He went to the drawer of a little desk in the corner and got out a large
scrapbook with blue vinyl covers.  I looked through it, flipping the thick
plastic-sheeted pages one by one.

Todd's early sports career was all there: pictures of Todd playing T-ball
and soccer; team photos of little boys in baseball pants or soccer shorts,
with Todd, always in the middle grinning cheerfully.  His father and mother
were in some of the pictures.  There was one of Todd, aged about eight,
holding a little trophy with his parents smiling at him hopefully.  Perhaps
expectantly.

There were fewer and fewer pictures as I turned the pages.  The last one
was over a year old.  After that, the pages were blank.

"She and I used to make this together," Todd said softly.  "I don't know
why she stopped."

I smoothed my hand over the first blank page.  "Why don't you start again,"
I suggested.  "Let's put this note in.  On Saturday we're taking team
pictures.  You can use this spot for the team picture, and then below it,
you can put your baseball card pictures.  One of you batting and another
fielding."

"I want my fielding one to show me in my catcher's gear, Coach," Todd said
eagerly.

"Absolutely!"  I assured him.  "We have to do that."

Together, we carefully mounted the note I had made for Todd, smoothing it
under the plastic.  "I'm going to show this to my parents," Todd told me
happily.

He put the scrapbook down and came over to hug me.  "Thanks Coach," he told
me again.

I held him tightly and kissed the top of his blond head.  The scent of his
little boy sweat filled my nostrils.  I knew that beneath the thin shirt
and tight pants of his dirty uniform he was nude except for his cup.  I
felt the hard muscles of his supple little body tremble as I stroked him.
The thrill of holding him and smelling his scent brought me to instant
rigidity and Todd felt it because he humped and ground his hips against me.

"Coach, I feel so good," he whispered.

"Me, too." I stroked the taut fabric over his hard, rounded butt.

The boy twisted, rubbing himself on my hip.  "Put it in me, Coach," he
begged.  "We can do it right now."

"What about your parents?"  I whispered.

"They won't be home for a while.  Please Coach."

By then I was so overcome by desire I would have run any risk.  We went to
the bathroom and I got a jar of Vaseline.  Then I took the excited boy into
the kitchen where we could hear a car if one came into the driveway or
garage.

"If they come, go right in the bathroom and start taking a shower," I told
him.

Todd nodded, eyes shining with eagerness.  "Uh-huh.  Hurry, Coach."

I turned him and put his elbows on the countertop.  "Hurry," he whispered
again.  Reaching around his waist I unfastened his pants and then pulled
down the fly, tugging the tight pants off his hips.  The boy squirmed to
help me, his naked butt gleaming in the kitchen lights.  I pulled the pants
below his knees and then pushed them along with his leggings all the way
down around his Nikes, striping Todd's smooth sculpted legs.

I slipped my hands around his waist again and the boy sucked in his lean
belly.  He was shivering in excitement.  "Hurry, Coach," he begged as my
thumbs went under the wide elastic band of his supporter.  I pulled it
clear of his jutting little boner and pushed cup and supporter down onto
his bunched up pants.  Todd leaned on the counter, lifting his naked butt
toward me.

I pushed my own pants and briefs to my ankles, removed the top of the
Vaseline jar and gobbed jelly over my straining member.  More thick gobs
got jammed into Todd's butt crack and the boy tried to spread knees and
thighs to help me.

"In me," he pleaded.  "Hurry...  In all the way..."

He was shuddering with desire, knees almost buckling.  With an arm around
his waist to steady him I slid my greased shaft into his butt crack,
letting the slippery head press on his clenched opening.

"Uhhh..." he panted.  "In...  Put it in..."

With a firm thrust I entered the boy, the head of my engorged shaft
squeezing through to the hot tight cavity beyond.  Todd's head drew back
and he leaned on his elbows, straining to open his thighs.

"Ohhh..." he groaned.  "In...  In more..."

"Is it hurting?"  I asked the desperately straining boy.

He shook his head back and forth.  "Uh-uh.  All the way, Coach...  Put it
all the way..."

With my arm tight around him I thrust again and my rigid shaft buried
itself deep in his writhing body.  Locking my groin to his rounded butt, I
stretched my tip up as far as I could and Todd gave a long shuddering sigh,
nearly a soft scream.  "Ahhhhhhhhhhh..." He thrashed weakly.  "In and out,
Coach," he pleaded.  "In and out..."

Supporting him around the waist I began to pump my hips, sliding my stiff
rod in the boy's quivering body.  My free hand was greasy with Vaseline and
I used it to fist his rigid little boner, stroking in rhythm with my
thrusts.

"Uhhhhhhh..." Todd struggled again to get his thighs apart, straining
against the tight clothes bunched at his ankles.  I felt his hips buck.
"Harder..." he gasped.  "Harder..."

My fist pounded on his shaft, and I let the top finger slip across the
sensitive little head on each stroke.  Todd writhed and twisted, holding
his weight on his elbows.  I felt his opening relax and I keep driving up
into him finishing every thrust with a grind and squeeze.

"Ahhhh...  Coach...  Coach..."

Suddenly Todd threw his head back.  His hard boy stick pulsed rapidly and
he leaned on his elbows, straining down as hard as he could.  His ring
gaped open and when I thrust into him contractions throbbed around my
ensheathed pole like massaging fingers.

"Oh... Uh... Uhhhh..."

The boy was jerking, his feet kicking in spasm after spasm.  I felt my own
hard member start to contract as fluid poured from its tip.  Todd screamed
softly - a long cry of ecstasy, and then both of us were bucking, powerful
contractions jerking our bodies again and again as the boy cried out in
passion, "It's doing it, I'm doing it...  Oh, Oh, Oh, Coach, I'm doing
it..."

We both finished at about the same time, the boy slumping against the
counter his knees buckling.  I had to support him with my arm to keep him
from falling.  When I withdrew, trickles of semen ran down the inside of
his thighs.  Reaching hurriedly I grabbed for some paper towels to keep the
milky fluid from dripping onto his clothes.

"Hang on a second, Tee," I whispered to him.  He sprawled on the countertop
while I pulled my pants back up and then I caught him just in time to keep
him from slipping to the floor.

Picking him up like a baby I cradled his half naked body in my arms leaving
his bunched up pants tangled around his feet.  He put his arms around my
neck and cuddled against me.

"Coach..." he whispered.

I kissed him and whispered over and over, "my little champion.  My little
champion..."

I carried him to the bathroom and while the tub filled, helped him to
undress.  When I eased him into the hot water he settled back with his head
against the side and I left him there, returning to the kitchen for a clean
up.

There was no way Todd's mother would approve of the pizza so I removed its
traces along with the little spots and streaks on the cabinets where Todd's
spurts had landed.  When I returned to the bathroom Todd lay sprawled, half
asleep in the tub.  He lifted both arms, trying to hug me when I knelt down
and then closed his eyes while I lathered him with a bar of scented bath
soap, caressing and fondling.

The slippery massage and hot water relaxed him into a sensual, half aroused
state.  My hands glided gently over his firm thighs, silky flanks, solid
little chest and shoulders.

"That feels good," he told me softly.

At last, I drained the dirty water out of the tub and helped him stand.
"Now, I want you to shower and wash your hair," I told him.

I closed the curtain and let him start the water.  Then I got a big bath
towel and waited patiently for him to finish.  Once he was dried off and in
his pajamas we took his dirty uniform clothes and put them on the washing
machine.

"Don't forget to tell your mom that they're here," I cautioned him.  "She
has to get them clean for Saturday and the team picture."

In the big living room Todd showed me his video games, taking great delight
in demonstrating all his little tricks and accomplishments.  I stroked and
petted him, and let him win at every game until he caught me at it.

"Coach!"  He protested, "You're letting me win!"

I smiled and caressed his shoulder.  "Tonight is your night, Tee.  I want
you to win at everything."

He grinned at me.  "It's no fun if I don't beat you fair.  You gotta' try
hard this time."

I stayed with him until his parents came home a little later.  I did not
want him to be in that big house, waiting all alone.

[ To Be Continued In The Final Installment, Part E ]
[ Coming Soon: The First Baseman! ]

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*
Hope you're enjoying it!  This baseball series has a 'long' short story for
every position.  Look for a new chapter or two each month.

Thanks for taking the time to read my story and if you'd like to comment,
my e-mail address is:

			hunterjoe45@yahoo.com

I will try to answer all serious mailings.  My on-line access is very
limited.  Rants and ravings will not get consideration.

To all you readers who enjoy these stories, please support Nifty with
contributions and keep the Archive online.  Check the Nifty home page for
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you will lose a wonderful resource to get our stories out.

You can find links to all my other stories on Nifty under my name, Joe
Hunter, listed under the J's (for Joe) in the prolific authors list.  I
hope you will read and enjoy!

All the Best.  Joe