Date: Thu, 17 May 2012 10:18:49 -0700 (PDT)
From: Joe Hunter <hunterjoe45@yahoo.com>
Subject: Baseball Diamond Tails - 6H & I

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 young boys 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

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

____________________________

BASEBALL DIAMOND TAILS - 6H&I
(copyright 2012, Joe Hunter)

::::::::::::::::::::
 Shortstop:  Part H
::::::::::::::::::::

That Monday I made it a number one priority to get Sean a rock collecting
book on my lunch hour and I had it with me when I went to practice.  As
soon as Shane and Sean arrived riding in the back of the pickup truck they
hopped out and came running over excitedly.

"We both did our exercises twice today, Coach," Shane reported.

Sean was standing right next to him bouncing happily.  "I did my pull-ups
and chin-ups on the bar of the swing set," he said.

"That's great," I gave them both a pat.  "I knew I could count on you
guys."

I looked at them proudly.  They were both shirtless, dressed only in their
new shorts and Nikes.  Shane had an arm protectively over Sean's bare
shoulders.  The first baseman's mother dropped him off and he came running
up.  He had on his new shorts as well, along with an old tattered shirt.
As soon as he saw his mother driving away he took off his shirt and handed
it to me.  "Can you keep this for me, Coach?"

"Sure," I told him.  "Work on all your double plays today, guys.  Two more
regular-season games this week and playoffs start Saturday.  Get that 6-4-3
and complete your collection!"

"We'll do it, Coach!" Shane told me.  "Come on fellas!"

They worked hard that afternoon and I focused most of the infield practice
on the double play drills.  The whole team was excited about the string of
double plays and everyone was rooting for the boys to get the 6-4-3 they
needed.  My third baseman, a tough little 12-year-old with a missing front
tooth, also wanted to get a double play, either a 5-4-3 or a line drive fly
out with a picked off runner.

"I'm not fussy, Coach," he told me with a big grin.  "I just wanna' get
one!"

At the end of practice Shane, Sean and the first baseman all stayed to help
with the equipment.  As we were putting the bags in the Blazer the first
baseman spotted his mother's car turning into the access road at the far
end of the field.

"Have you got my shirt, Coach?"  He asked quickly.

I gave it to him and he pulled it on hurriedly.  "My mom bugs me if I don't
keep my shirt on," he explained apologetically.  "She's convinced I'm
gonna' get skin cancer or something.  She's really weird."

"It's okay," I told him.  "Just keep her happy."

The first baseman grinned at me.  "I'm an expert."

I reached into the car and brought out Sean's rock collecting book.  "Sean,
here's something you might like."

The young boy took the book eagerly and the other two crowded around him to
see.

"Cool, rock collecting!"  The first baseman said.  "Sean, that is fun!  I
did a collection for Boy Scouts.  Come over tomorrow and I'll show it to
you."

"I gave him some agates from the ranch today," Shane told him.

"We could polish those if you want," his friend said.  "I've got a little
machine that does that."

"That sounds like it might be fun, Shane," I told him.  "Let me see if we
can arrange it so you boys can do that."

Shane's sister-in-law had arrived in the pick-up truck and, since she had
worked the snack stand at games with the first baseman's mother, the two
women knew each other.  I got them together, applied some artful persuasion
and arranged things so that all three boys could stay at the first
baseman's house that night.

"I don't know how I let you talk me into these things, Coach," the first
baseman's mother said.

"Come on," I told her with a grin.  "Three active boys running around your
house all night?  Think of the fun you'll have!  Just be sure they make it
to the game in one piece tomorrow night."

"Oh, we will, Coach," Shane's sister-in-law assured me, laughing.  "We want
them to get that last double play, too."

"God, yes!" the first baseman's mother said.  "It's all I hear about
anymore."

Our team did make a double play in the game the following night, but it was
my third baseman that got it.  In the second inning with one out and a
runner on third he stopped a line drive with a spectacular diving catch.
The surprised runner, who had broken for home, could only watch helplessly
as my tough little infielder rolled to his feet and stepped on the bag for
the second out.  He flashed me his gap toothed grin before tossing the ball
to the pitcher's mound and I grinned back, pumping my fist, happy for the
boy because I knew his dad was in the stands watching the game.  I gave him
a pat and a quick hug when he came off the field.

My three rock collectors had come to the game all excited after spending
the day together hunting along the riverbed for interesting specimens.
Shane showed me one of the agates they had polished in the first baseman's
machine.

"This is beautiful, Shane," I told him, admiring the colorful striations.

"We had fun today, Coach," Shane told me happily.  "We're rock hounds.
That's what the book says you are if you collect rocks."

"That riverbed is a good place to look."

"There's all kind' a neat stuff down there," my first baseman said.  "We
found a cave."

"Did you have a good time last night?"  I asked.  "I hope you guys got some
sleep."

"We got some, Coach," Shane told me with a grin.  "We stayed up for a
little while."

"We played cards," Sean said.  He and the first baseman both giggled.

"We messed around for a while," Shane whispered to me.  I nodded and
smiled.

All three boys played a good game, even though they did not get any double
play opportunities.  They all hit well and Shane made a beautiful play on a
ground ball up the middle.  He dove to stop the ball and then rolled to his
knees and threw to first.  His friend the first baseman stretched to the
limit and pulled in the ball for the out.  The crowd roared its
appreciation.

"Great play!"  I told them when they came back to the dugout.  Sean stood
next to his friend bouncing on his feet a little and looking up at Shane
admiringly.  They all went and sat together to wait for their turns at bat
with the younger boy in the middle and the two older ones to either side of
him.

We won that game handily, even though the other team was a good one.  Our
kids all looked sharp.  Everything was coming together for the playoffs
just as I had hoped it would.

"Batting cage tomorrow," I told the team before I sent them to the snack
bar for their free hotdogs.  "You three get some sleep tonight!"  I told my
young rock hounds.  They laughed and looked at each other mischievously.

The next afternoon at the Pitch'n Putt Shane and Sean came running up to me
as soon as they arrived.

"Coach, Sean has a problem," Shane announced.

"What is it, son?"  I asked the young boy.

Sean looked up at Shane anxiously.  "He got invited to a birthday party,
Coach," Shane said.

"Uh-oh!  It's not on Saturday is it, Sean?  I need you for that playoff
game!"

No, no, Coach," Shane assured me.  "It's on Sunday.  But he doesn't have a
present to give, Coach.  He doesn't know what to do."

Sean looked up at me appealingly.  "I asked my mom, Coach.  But
she... she..." His voice started to shake.

I stroked his hair and patted his shoulders.  "Everything's gonna' be fine,
Sean," I assured him.  "I'm very glad you told me about this.  That's the
right thing to do.  Don't worry.  I'll fix it for you."

I asked a few questions and discovered that the party was for a boy who had
been in Sean's class at school.

"What does he like, Sean?  Does he have hobbies?"

"He likes models," the boy told me.

"Fine," I said.  "Right after practice you and Shane and I will go find a
nice one for him.  You can pick it out.  We'll get it all wrapped with
party paper and you can give it to him Sunday.  It sounds like a lot of
fun."

"See, Sean," Shane told him.  "I told you Coach would fix it."

"Thanks, Coach," Sean said and gave me a little hug.  He looked a lot
happier.

"That's all right, son," I told him lovingly.  "I want both you boys to
tell me if you have things troubling you so I can help.  Now, go pick out a
bat.  I know those exercises are making you stronger.  Show me how hard you
can hit the ball!"

Later, while Sean was in the cage batting, Shane stood close to me.
"Coach, will you be home on Sunday?"

"Sure, I'll be home."  I looked at him.  "I guess it'll just be you and
me."

"Can we go fishing in my secret spot?"

I nodded and smiled at him.  "Yeah, as long as the weather's good."

"I hope it is," Shane said.

"Why don't you see if your parents will let you stay in town all next
week," I told him.  "That way you won't have to worry about coming in for
the playoff games and you can plan on spending Sunday night with me."

Shane beamed up at me.  "Okay, Coach, I'll try."

Sean called to me then.  "Coach, watch this!"  He brought his bat around in
a beautiful little swing.  There was a solid 'Tang' from the aluminum bat
and the orange ball went flying out into the nets.

"See?" he yelled, "I'm getting strong, Coach.  I'm gonna' be like that boy
in the book.  I'm only gonna' hit homers!"

"That's fine, slugger," I told him with a smile.  "Just be sure to save a
few for tomorrow night."

After practice I had a word with Shane's brother in the pickup truck, and
with the first baseman's mother.  I ended up taking all three boys to
Wal-Mart so Sean could pick out a model for his friend.  I was getting
superstitious about their double play and thought it might be best for them
to be together as much is possible.

Sean selected a nice fighter plane model to give as a present.  I had
expected that the two older boys would give him advice about what model to
get, but Sean turned out to be surprisingly knowledgeable about military
aircraft and picked the model himself.  Both he and Shane kept displaying
hidden talents and interests.

"Is that what you think he'd like, Sean?"  I asked.  "Does he like airplane
models?"

"I think he likes car models, Coach," Sean said.  "But if it was me, I'd
want this one.  It's awesome!"

"Tell you what," I said, suppressing a smile.  "Why don't you find a good
car model to give him and we'll get this plane model for you."

"Oh boy!  Thanks, Coach!"  Sean bounced a little with excitement.

Now the advice of the older boys turned out to be useful, because Sean knew
little about cars.  He ended up getting a model that Shane and the first
baseman assured him was, "Totally rad!"

I studied Sean's aircraft model for a moment and added a package of paints,
some brushes, thinner, and glue to our shopping basket.  Then I went to the
customer service desk and had the car model wrapped.  Meanwhile, the boys
selected a card, which Sean signed.

"Now you're all set," I told him.

In the Blazer Sean sat on Shane's lap and explored the bag of things I had
gotten him with increasing excitement.

"Coach," he said in a hushed voice.  "Coach, there's paints and brushes and
like glue and everything in here!"

"Yeah, Sean," I told him.  "Listen.  Be careful of that can of thinner.
Make sure you store it outside somewhere.  That stuff's flammable as hell."

Shane and the first baseman were looking into the bag over Sean's shoulder.

"Coach got you everything you need," Shane said, stroking the younger boy's
shoulder.

"I can paint the model and put on all the decals and do all that stuff
that..."  Sean was at a loss for words.  "I've never been able to do that
before," he told Shane.

"You can do it with this one," the first baseman said, poking around in the
bag.  "All the colors you need are here."

"Coach..." Sean tried to say.  "Coach..."

I reached over and patted his leg.  "You make a nice model, Sean.  I wanna'
see it when you're done.  And you have a good time at that birthday party.
And tomorrow, you hit that ball for me, okay?  As a matter of fact I hope
you all hit home runs.  I wouldn't mind that a bit."

We dropped the first baseman off at his house.  The boy surprised me by
leaning over the back of my seat and giving me a hug before he got out.  I
gave his back a pat.

"See you tomorrow," I told him.

On the way across town to the trailer park Sean sat quietly in Shane's lap,
holding the bag with the models so that it covered Shane's hands, which
were busy beneath.  He leaned back against the older boy and let his legs
sprawl to either side.  I reached over and slid my hand on the silky skin
of his knee and Sean sighed happily.  "Coach, I like being with you and
Shane better than anything."

"I know, son."

We dropped him off and he climbed out of the car holding his bag.

"Store that thinner outside," I cautioned him again, "I'll see you tomorrow
for the game."

"Thanks, Coach."  He waved as we pulled away.

"Sean's a great kid, isn't he," I told Shane.

He nodded.

I reached over and patted Shane's leg.  "I'll take you back to the ranch,
Shane.  We're not in a hurry, are we?"

He shook his head and shifted over in his seat.  Leaning across the center
console he rested his head against me.  "I wish we could go to your house."

"Me, too."  I put my arm around him and stroked his firm side through his
cotton shirt.  Shane pulled it up so my palm could slide over his smooth
bare skin and then put his hand on my thigh, stroking the thick denim of my
jeans and pushing up into my crotch.  His fingers pressed on the hard bulge
under the cloth.

I moved my hand across his hard ridged tummy and pushed under the edge of
his shorts and the wide elastic waist of his little jock.  Shane's rigid
penis slid into my fingers and the boy caught his breath as I began to rub.
I felt the shaft swell as he tightened his butt.  He pulled up farther in
the seat and opened his thighs so I could rub the full-length of his
straining member.  As my fingers stroked firmly the boy gave a soft moan.

I continued to rub and caress him as I drove through the back streets.  We
went over the railroad tracks and through the underpass beneath the
interstate.  Beyond it the narrow two-lane highway stretched out across the
bare rolling country toward the ranch.  There were no other cars on that
lonely road.

Shane looked around quickly, and then twisted in his seat and pushed his
shorts and jock down off his hips to his knees.  He pulled his perfectly
formed smooth legs free and let the clothes fall into the foot well.  Then
he pulled his shirt off over his head.  Pulling his legs up onto the seat
he twisted his naked body so that he was stretched back over the center
console with his head under the steering wheel on my lap.  His knees sagged
apart and his rigid boy stick strained up quivering.  He seemed
tremendously aroused.

"Do me, Coach," he begged.  He took my hand and put it on his throbbing
shaft.

I slowed the car and began to rub, keeping one eye on the road and another
on the nude boy writhing on my lap.  Shane moaned and twisted.  I felt his
stiff rod pulse quickly several times.  He strained his thighs apart and
reached down to feel his firm rounded butt cheek.  The boy pulled his right
leg up farther, put it on top of the back seat and then strained his arm
down to insert a finger into his boy hole.

I pumped his shaft harder and Shane groaned with pleasure.  His body
shuddered.  As he began to arch, his left leg came up off the seat onto the
dashboard against the windshield.  He bucked, groaning again as his
throbbing hardness contracted over and over.  Droplets of milky fluid shot
from the tip.  I rubbed harder and another convulsive tremor shook him.  He
arched his head as far back in my lap as he could and his entire body
strained upward.  He twisted the finger in his opening I felt another
series of throbbing pulses in his stiff little rod.  More fluid oozed from
the tip, dribbling down over my fingers.

At last the boy collapsed, body sprawling over the center console, fingers
slipping from his crease.  He lay still while I slowly caressed the silky
surface oh his inner thighs and then, curling his legs back up on the seat,
Shane turned to the side to press his face against me and hug my waist.  I
stroked his firm tapering back and mounded butt.

"Coach..." He whispered.  "Coach, I wish I could be with you every day."

"I know, son," I told him soothingly.  "Be patient.  Soon I think we'll
work something out.  I want you, too, Shane."

The boy made a soft little sound and hugged closer.  "Don't lose me,
Coach," he begged.

"Never, Shane.  Never."

As we got close to the ranch he pulled his clothes back on while I stroked
the smooth rounded muscle of his shoulder.  "Getting stronger," I told him.
"Keep those exercises going."

"I never miss, Coach.  Twice every day.  And I read, Coach.  Those baseball
stories are awesome.  I'm almost finished with them."

"Good.  There are a lot more I can get you."

When I dropped him off he lingered by the Blazer, reluctant to say goodbye.
"I'll see you tomorrow, Coach."

"You're the very best, Shane.  Don't ever forget it."

He smiled and waved as I pulled away.

The following evening we had our last regular season game.  We were the
second game so it was completely dark by the time we got started.  It was a
sultry night.  Moths and insects flew around the field lights and the
occasional flash of heat lightning flickered on the horizon.

Our opponent was a solid team, but we had beaten them before and my boys
were even better now.  That team played well against us, but from the first
inning I felt confident that we would win.

Shane and the first baseman both homered in the first inning.  They were
beautiful hits.  Shane's flew far over the centerfield fence and bounced
off the top of someone's car.  Sean was in the on deck circle and he jumped
up and down, yelling with excitement.  He was standing by home plate to be
the first to congratulate his friend when Shane finished rounding the
bases.

The home run for the first baseman was only his second of the season.  He
was beaming with delight when he came around the bases to be greeted by
Shane, Sean and the rest of the team.  Again he surprised me by coming over
and giving me a tight hug.  I stroked his slender shoulders and patted his
back.

"Congratulations, Tiger," I told him.  "Tonight's your night."

He nodded, smiling.  His eyes were shining with excitement.  Shane and Sean
took him back into the dugout and I saw them all sitting together, talking.

The double play!  I thought.  I bet they get it tonight!

They did get one that night, but it still wasn't the combination they
wanted.  In the third inning with one out and a man on first, Sean made a
picture-perfect play on a hot grounder.  He scooped the ball beautifully
and without breaking stride flipped it to Shane at second who stepped on
the bag and rifled it to first.  The runners never had a chance.  They were
out easily.  It was the best play I had seen the boys make.  As they
trotted off the field the crowd in the bleachers gave them a standing
ovation.

"I know it wasn't the one you wanted," I told the grinning boys, "But it
sure was good!  I gave them all a quick hug.  "Keep it going, guys, it's
your night!"

They were all up again that inning.  Shane and the first baseman got solid
hits and were on base when Sean came up right after Shane.  Sean had popped
out in the first inning when he took a big swing trying to hit a homer like
his friends so I beckoned him over to me now.

"Listen, slugger," I said, kneeling down to talk to him.  "Don't make me
sorry I gave you that damn book to read.  Stop trying to swing for the
fences.  You just go up there and use that nice solid swing I taught you,
okay?"  I stroked his smooth little side tenderly and patted his pert butt.

He gave me his sweet little smile and nodded.  Then he straightened his
helmet, which always looked too big for him, and trotted over to the
batter's box.  I watched as he took a breath to steady himself and then got
set.

The other team had an 11-year-old on the mound who was a pretty decent
pitcher, so it was a fair confrontation.  Sean ignored two balls that were
high, but when the third pitch came in over the plate, he stepped into it
and unloaded.

It was a beautiful swing, just as I had asked him to do it.  He kept his
head down, kept the bat level and finished with a perfect follow-through.
The aluminum bat made a satisfying, 'Tang!"

Sean had neither the size nor the upper body strength to be a long ball
hitter.  But sometimes you just get lucky.  It was one of those nights.
His bat nailed that pitch right on the sweet spot and it sailed out toward
the left-field fence.

It can't be, I thought as the ball arced up into the lights.

"There's no way!" I said under my breath, as I watched the outfielders
running back.

"Oh my God, it is!" I yelled as the ball went over the fence and hit one of
the light poles.  "Yyyeeeooowwwiiieeee!"

Everyone went nuts.  My team poured out of the dugout.  The crowd in the
bleachers stomped and cheered.  My first baseman rounded the bag at third
yelling his head off.  He slapped my palm and trotted home.  Than Shane
went by with a huge grin.  He slapped my palm, too, as he stepped on the
bag and headed for the plate.  Finally Sean came past.  He was running the
bases with one hand on his helmet to keep it from falling off.  He was so
excited that he was doing more bouncing and skipping than running.  I saw
that he was being very careful to touch every base, stamping on them with
his foot as he went by.

"Coach, I did it!  I did it!"  He yelled delightedly as he came bouncing
into third.  He slapped my palm and scrambled down the third-base line into
the arms of Shane, the first baseman and all the rest of his teammates.
They brought him over to me in triumph and the little guy jumped up and
clung to me tightly as I hugged and petted him.

"I did it, Coach!"  He told me again.  "I did it!"

"You sure did, son," I told him proudly.  I looked around.  "Someone needs
to go get that ball for him."

"I'll get it," my first baseman said.  He pushed off through the crowd of
excited boys.

I put Sean down next to Shane and the two of them grinned up at me happily.

"You told us all to get home runs tonight, Coach, and we did!"  Sean told
me, his eyes sparkling.

"Maybe I should try that more often," I said with a smile.

"Here's the ball, Coach," my first baseman said.  He handed it to Sean and
the young boy hugged it to his chest.

Shane looked at me curiously.  "Coach, what did you say to him right before
he went up to hit?"

Sean and I glanced at each other and smiled.

"I told him to trust his coach and remember what he had been taught," I
told Shane.  "I wish my advice always worked out that well!"

Our team finally crowded back into the dugout and we continued the game,
but the final result was never in doubt after Sean's three-run homer.  We
won by five runs and finished the season on a high note.

After the final handshake between the teams I borrowed a felt tip pen and
gathered our club together in the dugout for a ceremony.

"Your first home run is something you should never forget," I told Sean.  I
took his ball and wrote carefully on it the date, the teams playing and,
"First Home Run.  Three RBIs!"  Then we all signed it for him.

"Always keep this, Sean," I told him, giving him the ball.  "It's good luck
and it's a very happy memory."

The boy looked at me gratefully and I swept my eyes over the rest of the
team.  Their happy young faces beamed back at me.

"Great game, guys," I told them.  "Great season.  I don't have to tell you
how well you all did, because I know you know it.  I'm very, very proud to
be your coach.

"This Saturday's our first playoff game.  I know you guys want to win it.
But, remember, so does the other team.  You've got to want it more than
they do.  We split with them in the regular season and they were both tough
games.  Now we play the tiebreaker.

"Enjoy your victory tonight, have fun tomorrow with a day off, and then
come with your game faces on for Saturday.  Let's show those guys that when
it's playoff time, the best players are sitting right here in this dugout!
Give me your fists!"

The boys all put their clenched fists in with mine and gave a cheer.  Then
they broke to go to the snack bar.  A knot of girls was waiting by the
fence for Shane so I slipped him a few bucks to get them all something to
eat.

"Stick around, Shane," I told him.  "Keep the other two with you.  I wanna'
talk to you guys later."

I cleaned up the dugout quickly, and then went out to mingle with the
crowd.  No one was in a hurry to leave and I spent time talking to all the
parents, reliving the season and congratulating them on the way their sons
had performed.  It seemed that in every conversation Shane, Sean and the
first baseman would get mentioned.

"Yes," I found myself agreeing often, "They're very close friends."  "Yes,
they had quite a season," or "Yes, they're a gifted combination of
infielders."

I spotted Shane's brother and his wife talking to the first baseman's
mother and went over to them.

"What a game, Coach!"  Shane's brother exclaimed.  "That double play!
Incredible!"

"And the home runs!" his wife said, "They all got one.  Wasn't it amazing?"

"Sean was so cute when he hit his," the first baseman's mother told me.
"We were all so happy for him."

"They still don't have that one play they wanna' get, Coach," Shane's
brother said anxiously.  "You think they'll get it?"

"Don't know," I said.  "Frankly, I'm getting a little worried.  I was sure
they'd have it by now. Time's running out."

"Oh, they've just got to get it," the first baseman's mother said.

"Maybe I'm being superstitious," I told them, "But I'm positive that if we
can keep the boys together long enough, they'll make the play.  I can't
explain it, but I'm sure it'll happen.  You know, I had a feeling today
they were all gonna' hit home runs and they did.  It's strange."

"They'll be together tomorrow," Shane's sister-in-law said.  "Shane's
staying in town with us for the next ten days.  The boys can get together
every day."

"That play is gonna' happen," I told them.  "You'll see.  Be sure you all
sit together on Saturday for luck."

The next person I ran into was the other coach.  He and I had been friends
for the two years he had managed his son's team.

"Next year he'll be in the 13 and 14 league," I said, "Are you gonna' coach
up there?"

"I don't know," he said.  "Maybe as an assistant."

We both looked over toward the snack bar where Shane, Sean and my first
baseman stood surrounded by four or five girls.

"How did you ever create that infield of yours?"  The other coach asked.
"That double play they made - I've never seen anything like that at this
level."

"Oh, you get kids that can do it from time to time," I assured him.  "I
once had a first baseman who..."  I stopped and smiled fondly, recalling
the memory.  "Anyway," I continued, "It happens occasionally.  I didn't do
anything."

The other coach watched the boys.  "The three of them are close friends,
aren't they?"

"Very close," I agreed.  "That's a big part of their teamwork."

"My son tells me that one boy, Shane, is the most popular boy in the sixth
and seventh grade.  And your second baseman.  He's only 11, isn't he?
Where did you find him?  He didn't play coach-pitch last year."

"No, he didn't," I said, concealing a smile.  "He was just a lucky draft
pick.  Actually, Shane found him for me."

The other man looked at me skeptically.  "I guess you have your secrets,
Coach.  They all say you're good."

I smiled.  "So are you.  We're lucky to have lots of dedicated coaches in
this league.  I'm no better than any other.  It's like I tell the kids.
There are no good coaches, just good players."

He shook his head.  "I'm not so sure."

We watched my three boys talking and laughing.  Shane's tousled blonde mop
gleamed in the lights from the field.

"That boy is quite something," the coach said.

"Yes," I agreed.  "Quite something..."

I went back to the dugout and packed up our equipment.  As the crowd
dispersed and cars pulled out of the parking lot I took the bags to my
Blazer and put them in the back.  Before locking the snack stand I checked
to be sure the volunteers had turned everything off.  Then I cut power to
the field lights.  The sudden darkness turned the diamond into a smaller,
eerier place.  In the glow from the town coming from above the trees the
infield was just visible, two empty dugouts lurking like crouching forms on
either side.

By the bleachers three slender figures waited for me.  I knelt in front of
them, their faces a pale blur.  Three pairs of eyes gleamed.

"You all homered tonight," I whispered, "And you made one of the greatest
plays ever seen on this field.  I don't think that was an accident.
Believe in yourselves.  Stay together.  Your play is coming, I'm sure of
it.  Whatever you do, don't jinx it.  Don't talk about it among yourselves.
If your folks talk about it that's fine - but don't you do it!  On Saturday
afternoon we start the playoffs.  You're all great players.  Win or lose,
you know I love you more than anything in the world.  Come to that game and
give me everything you've got!  Put in your fists."

Each boy held out his little fist and I touched them with mine.  "Now go,"
I told them, getting up.

They went off without a word and climbed into the back of Shane's brother's
truck.  It pulled out of the parking lot with the first baseman's mother
following in her car.

I stood for a while staring at the dark, deserted field.  The incredible
moment of Sean's home run and the magic of the beautiful play the boys had
made were already in the past, gone without a trace.  But I wanted to
believe that somehow it was all still there in the field itself, becoming
just as much a part of it as the dirt, the grass, the wooden dugouts, and
the fences; the great moments accumulating through the years like the
layers of paint on the snack stand or the old bubblegum wrappers stuffed in
the crevices of the dugouts.

At last I went to the Blazer.  Before starting it I reached across the
center console to stroke Shane's mark on the corner of the passenger seat.
Reluctant to break the spell, I left my headlights off until I was near the
road.  Then I drove away.

The field remained; waiting beneath the night sky for the games to come.

::::::::::::::::::::
 Shortstop: Part I
::::::::::::::::::::

The following day, Friday, I fretted continually that I had made a mistake.

I should have had a practice, I thought.  An easy one.  Just an excuse to
get the kids together so they would stay focused and not go stale.  Now
they would all show up on Saturday either overconfident or tired out from
playing all day or distracted or... something, and we would lose.

The idea bothered me and I could not relax.  Finally I told myself to stop
worrying.  It was done.  Whatever was going to happen, would.  I did a hard
workout, read for a while and went to bed.

Saturday morning I was tempted to go see the first game.  The all
12-year-old team was playing the squad we had beaten Thursday night.  But I
was superstitious.  I didn't want to see a game before I coached a big one.
I went down to the garage and killed time cleaning all the catcher's
equipment and polishing the batting helmets with Johnson's Spray Wax.

The sound of bicycles turning into my driveway made me look up.  To my
surprise and delight my three boys were riding up.  Shane was on his bike
with Sean standing on the rear pegs.  The first baseman followed on his
mountain bike.  They were all dressed identically in their baseball
uniforms.  Their shirts were freshly washed and their pants sparkling clean
and ironed.  They came into the garage wheeling their bikes, grinning
happily.

"Hi, Coach!"  Shane said.  "We wanna' go to the game with you."

"For good luck," the first baseman told me.

Sean was bouncing as he always did when he was excited.  "We all did our
exercises yesterday, Coach," he told me proudly.

"I did them, too," the first baseman announced.  "Shane taught me."

"And we practiced yesterday, Coach," Shane said.  "Just so we could stay
loose."

I brushed my eyes, love for them welling up and then I gave each one a hug
and a little pat on the butt.

"You did just the right thing.  Going to the game together is exactly
right."

I put the two bikes over by my workbench and then we loaded the equipment
bags into the Blazer.  I took the three of them upstairs and gave them a
light lunch; just a little soup and a sandwich.  While they ate, I
entertained them with stories of seasons past and I also mentioned the
feeling I had about the really great things they did on the diamond
becoming part of the field itself.  Little Sean was captivated by the idea.

"You mean part of me is there right now, Coach?  `Cause of what we did?"

He was clearly quite pleased at the thought.

"Not so much a part of you," I told him, "More like a part of what you
accomplished."

"Nice," Sean said dreamily.

"Geez, Coach," Shane exclaimed.  "What about when we really screw up?  I've
missed a few easy plays at shortstop that I'd rather not remember.  I hope
they didn't get into the field!"

I smiled and stroked his hair.  "Would it really be so bad, Shane?  Don't
forget, our mistakes are just as important a part of us as our successes.
Mistakes aren't so bad if you learn from them.  And if you never made any
mistakes, how could you appreciate the good plays when they happen?  But I
think it's just the really, really great plays that stay a part of the
field."

"There have been lots of good things to remember the summer, Coach," Shane
told me with his eyes shining.  The other two boys both nodded.

"And there'll be a lot more," I assured them.  "Remember, the summer's not
over yet."

When they finished eating I piled the dirty dishes in the sink and left
them for later.  We went downstairs and I pulled the Blazer out of the
garage.  This time all three boys got into the back seat with the two older
ones on either side of Sean, just the way they always sat in the dugout.
They were quiet on the way to the field.  I heard them moving around a
little, but there was no talking.

Once we got there, my worries about team morale went away.  Shane got
everyone pumped up for the game.  He seemed to be everywhere during our
warm-up, talking and encouraging the other boys in his quiet way.  The kids
were just as ready as I had ever seen them.

It was a good thing they were, because that game was as tough a one as we
had all season.  Once again we were playing my friend's team and they
wanted to win just as badly as we did.  Plus my friend and I had our steak
dinner bet!  The contest was close to error free, a feat in 11 and 12 year
old ball, and looking back at it later I could appreciate what a fine
effort it was by both sides.  At the time, I wouldn't have minded a few
screw ups by the other club.

In addition to tough competition I had the usual substitution complexity to
deal with.  There were 13 boys on my team and only nine could play at a
time.  In playoff games, league rules required every player to get at least
one at bat and one defensive inning, but if a boy had been faithful during
the season – and all mine had – I made sure they played at least half
the game.  Substituting at four positions was not easy.  Talent and ability
ruled, but player and parent egos factored as well so tact was required -
particularly since my lineup had 11 year old Sean in for the entire game.
I managed to avoid bruising anyone's feelings.

That game was full of memorable high points.  My centerfielder and his
close friend, the youngster who substituted in right field, both made
spectacular over-the-shoulder running catches and came back each time to
the dugout grinning happily.  My aggressive third baseman was also having a
game, sliding in the dirt to stop hot grounders hit up the line and then
throwing to first from his knees.  I saw Shane talking to him and
encouraging him several times.

It was Shane who really kept us in the game.  I pitched him for an inning
in the first half and played him at shortstop for all the rest.  He was
everywhere, talking to the other players, keeping everyone sharp, and
making play after great play at his position.

On offense both teams were a bit subdued by the good pitching, but there
was still plenty of action.  Shane made contact every time he was up and in
the third inning he knocked a home run over the left-field fence as Sean,
the first baseman and all the rest cheered excitedly.  Shane's homer gave
us a temporary lead until the coach's nephew on the other team cranked one
of his own in the next inning.

My left-handed first baseman drag bunted his way to first twice, something
he was getting very good at.  "Just call me 'Speedy'," he told me happily
as he came to the dugout after scoring on a double by Shane.

Sean also tried to bunt his way on in the first inning.  But he was a
righty and his legs were shorter than my graceful first baseman's.  He laid
down a nice bunt, which advanced Shane who was on base ahead of him, but
Sean could not get down to first fast enough to beat the throw.  He trotted
back looking discouraged.

"Chin up, son," I told him as he went by to the dugout.  "What have I told
you?"

He gave me an apologetic little smile.  "That it's okay as long as I do my
best."

"Right!"  I patted his butt and winked.  "That was a nice bunt!  Next year,
after we feed you a little and you grow some, you'll beat those out.  Good
job."

He went into the dugout looking brighter.

The climax of the game came in the last inning, and it built up so slowly,
wrapping me so tight in the game, that when it arrived I was not prepared
for it.

We came into that inning down by a run.  As `visitors' we batted first and
I prayed we could score enough runs to get a good lead and hold on through
the other team's at-bat to win.  I got involved in the strategy of making
that happen and missed the significance of what was actually occurring.

Our leadoff batter was one of my substitute players, the seventh spot of
our order.  He was not our best by any means, but he had tried hard,
improving all through the season, and had become a good little contact
hitter.  I gave him an encouraging smile and flashed the sign to swing
away.  He lined the first pitch right through the middle and scampered up
the first base line for a single.  Standing proudly on the bag, he beamed a
smile at me where I was standing in the third-base coaching box.

"Way to go!"  I shouted and gave him a fist pump.

Now we've got it started, I thought.  Everyone hits!  Get some base runners
and then the top of our order's up!

It was not so easy as that.  My next batter, eighth in the lineup, hit a
chopping grounder to the left side.  The third baseman had trouble with it
but managed to finally get it out of his glove and threw to first.  I was
positive my man was safe.  It seemed as though he had hit the bag well
before the throw came in, but the umpire signaled an out.

The call got mixed reviews from the stands, fans booing or cheering
depending on which team they were rooting for.  I trotted down the baseline
to the home plate umpire.  He took off his mask as I approached.

"Did you see that?"  I asked.

"The man closest to it made the call, Coach," the ump told me.  "That's all
there is to it."

There was not much I could say.  I went back to my coaching box.

"Okay, let's get one!"  I shouted to our ninth hole batter and clapped my
hands a few times.

He almost did.  A 12 year old with some power - when he remembered to swing
properly - he got nearly every bit of the third pitch, sending it high into
the air to left-field.

"Halfway," I yelled to my base runner. (Get over that fence! I thought,
trying mental influence on the ball.)

But the ball was hit too high and not far enough.  The left fielder got
under it out by the fence.  (Drop it!  I thought.)  But he not only made a
nice catch, he also made a great throw to his cut off at second.

"Back!"  I yelled to my runner frantically.  But he was already scrambling
toward the bag.  He just barely beat the throw.  Another step and we would
have been eliminated.

"Pretty close, Coach," the other team's third baseman said with a grin.

"Man, you're not kidding!"  I grinned back at him and nodded in
appreciation.  "That was a nice play."

Over on second my runner made an exaggerated pantomime of wiping his brow
and sighing with relief.  He was a spunky little guy and we both smiled as
I wiped my brow back at him.

The next batter was my first baseman, the top of our order.  With two outs,
the game and the whole season on the line, it all came down to him.

Baseball is such an amazing game.  Sometimes the things that happen are
just so unexpected.  Sean and Shane had both had their share of incredible
moments that summer, but in this crucial situation it was to be their
friend, so often playing in their shadow, who was to determine the outcome.

My very first thought was, why couldn't it have been Shane?  But almost
immediately I dismissed that as unworthy.  This boy had worked just as
hard, and improved himself almost as much.  He had been a loyal friend all
through the season and had made his share of good plays, cheerfully doing
everything I asked of him.  Why shouldn't it be his chance now?

But even as the idea formed I experienced a terrible fear.  It would be so
unfair if, after all his hard work, my first baseman should make the last
out of the season...  Anything, I thought, anything but that.  The fear was
an actual knot in my gut and for an insane moment I searched for some way
of shielding him.

I'll tell the runner to steal, I thought.  Let the runner make the last out
and I'll take the blame.

But the insanity passed and I did what all coaches must do.  Players cannot
be protected from the risk of failure if they are to gain the strength
needed for competition.  I smiled and nodded, pretending confidence, but
within I was praying, "Please, please let him do something, anything.  Just
so he has some little success."

If it had been Shane or Sean I wouldn't have minded so much.  They had had
their chances.  But this was all this boy had.  I should say something to
him, I thought desperately.  But what to say?  I could think of nothing
that did not sound banal or stupid.  Tell him to do his best?  This boy
would die before failing to give his best.

The moment to say something passed, and then finally I had an idea.  It was
harebrained, but at least it was something, and if it did not work it would
be my fault, not his.

Twice my first baseman had burned the other team with drag bunts.  Why not
try to use that?

The boy walked to the plate looking very determined, but I could tell he
was nervous.  Who wouldn't have been in that situation?  He turned and
looked uncertainly up the line for my signal.  I gave him the one for swing
away, wiped it off, and then called for a fake bunt.  He gave no sign of
recognition, but I knew he understood.  He was that kind of kid.  He
stepped into the batter's box.

The thing exceeded my expectations, largely because of my first baseman's
skill.  But luck certainly played a part.  The first pitch was a ball and
he shifted his bat just enough to make it appear that he was thinking of
bunting and then pulled it back.  All the infielders' gloves came up and
the third baseman took a couple of running steps in.

"Okay, big hit now, big hit!"  I yelled as I flashed the sign for the fake
bunt again.

Instead of faking, my first baseman actually blunted the next pitch just
foul and started running up the baseline.  All the infielders were reacting
now, convinced that he was going to try to burn them as he had before.

"Go get it now, you can do it!"  I shouted.  I wiped off the fake bunt sign
and signaled for him to hit away.  The pitcher delivered, all the
infielders charged and my first baseman stepped into the pitch, belting a
line drive to right-center field.

I can't prove it, but I think my strategy might actually have saved us.
That line drive was probably playable if the outfielders had been in
position.  As it was, they were coming in to back up the infield and the
ball sailed right over their heads, rolling to the fence.  The
centerfielder reacted immediately, turning around and racing back for it.
But our runner from second scored standing up, tying the game and my
excited first baseman rounded first, heading for second.

Oh brother, I thought as I saw the centerfielder pick up the ball.

It was a good thing my first baseman had speed because the fielder made an
excellent throw to second and the play was close.  My guy slid in under the
tag and the umpire yelled, "Safe!"

It was a dramatic moment.  Of course in the bleachers the fans and parents
were all going nuts, especially ours.  All my boys in the dugout were up
cheering and Shane and Sean were actually outside the dugout yelling their
heads off.  Sean was jumping up and down.

My first baseman got up, dusted himself off and stood on the bag at second
taking it all in, his face split by a smile so wide it looked like it went
ear-to-ear.  It was his biggest moment so far in the season.  I felt
enormously relieved, and I was very happy for him.

I called time and walked out onto the field.  The cheering continued as I
went over to the boy.  "Just want to see if he's okay," I called to the
umpire.

I took my delighted first baseman by the hand and put my other arm around
his slender shoulders, drawing him close.  "Just wanted you to know, that
was one of the greatest clutch at-bats I've ever seen," I told him.  "I'm
so proud of you..." I hugged him tightly.

He looked up at me, blushing from embarrassment, but I could tell he was
very pleased, too.  "Thanks, Coach."

"Maybe I should `a waited to tell you at the end of the inning," I
continued, "But I just couldn't.  I wanted you to know.  Now, let's see if
we can get you in to score.  Okay?"

"Okay, Coach," he said grinning.

I gave him a little pat and then walked back to my third base coaching box.

The next batter was Shane.  Baseball games have a way of shifting quickly
and I could feel this one coming our way.  The other team could have walked
Shane in this situation, but they elected to pitch to him and Shane belted
a triple into the right-field corner, scoring his friend and giving us a
one run lead.  He grinned at me when he reached third standing up.

"Nice hit, son," I told him.  "Be ready now."

"Sean will get me in," he told me confidently.

Little Sean came up next looking grimly determined.  I pantomimed a nice
level swing to him and he nodded.  The outfielders expected him to bunt or
hit short so his well hit fly ball to left caught them by surprise.  The
left fielder could not quite get to it and it dropped in for a hit scoring
Shane.  Sean stood on first grinning happily and bouncing a little as he
always did when he was excited.

The pitcher and catcher went into a conference and I had Sean steal second
on the next pitch while they were distracted.  The catcher almost threw the
ball away when he fired to second.  I became hopeful that we would get at
least one more run.

But it was not to be.  Our next batter grounded out on a close play and the
inning ended with us in the lead by two runs.  It would have to be enough.

"Okay guys, let's put 'em out and win this thing!"  I told my players as
they took the field.

Shane gave me the high sign and he went around talking to the other players
as the pitcher warmed up.  When the umpire called for the balls to come in
and the boys did their 'coming down' drill, Shane and the first baseman
went to bring the ball to the pitcher.  They both said something to him and
ran back to their positions.

Our pitcher for this final effort was one of my experienced 12-year-olds.
He did a good job with the first batter, who was just a little too eager to
hit.  With the count at one and two the batter took a big swing at the next
pitch and missed.  But our catcher dropped the ball and the batter alertly
sprinted up the baseline.  Our catcher fumbled for the handle, finally got
it and made a desperate throw to first.  My slender first baseman stretched
his full-length and hauled in the ball, just getting the runner.  This
earned him another big cheer from the stands and he grinned when Shane and
Sean yelled something to him.

Okay, I thought, one gone.  It could've been a lot worse.

It rapidly did get worse.

The next batter took a 2-2 pitch and zinged it into the left side of the
infield.  Shane lunged, diving to his right, managed to get his glove on
the ball, knocking it down enough so the third baseman crossing behind
could pick it up.  There was no way to get the runner and he wisely held
the ball rather than attempt a throw.

Next up was the coach's nephew, a left-hander with a deceptively slender
build who could crush the ball if he got hold of it.  I seriously
considered walking him, but that kind of thing nearly always backfires at
the 11 and 12 level of play.  It demoralizes young pitchers to deliberately
walk a batter; it breaks their rhythm and often the result is a string of
walks instead of just one.  It's usually better to pitch to the hitters and
roll the dice.

So I shifted everyone over for the left hander and signaled my pitcher to
fire away.

It did not work out too badly.  The kid got a hit, but at least it was not
a home run.  It was a good deep fly to left and my 11-year-old left fielder
almost made an over the shoulder catch.  A few more inches and he would've
had an awesome play.  As it was, he still did very well.  He played the
ball off the fence, got it straight in to Shane, his cutoff man and the
batter was held to a single.  The runner coming from first to second gave
up any idea of trying for third.

Time for an out, I thought.

My pitcher did his best.  He bore down as well as he could, but in his
attempt to throw hard he began to overthrow and lost the plate.  In
addition to being a good pitcher he was a sharp little guy and he caught on
to what he was doing before I had to go out and tell him.  He looked over
at where I was standing by the dugout, smiled ruefully and made a little
throwing gesture with his hand.

"That's right," I called to him.  "You know what to do."

He nodded.  Shane went over and patted him on the shoulder and he nodded
again.  The count on the batter was now three and one.  My pitcher got
another strike for a full count.  Then he lost him on a very close pitch
that the umpire ruled a ball.

The bases were loaded.

"That's okay, shake it off.  You'll get the next one," I called out.  But I
watched with apprehension the next hitter coming up.  He was another good
one.  I could feel the momentum of the game shifting against us.

The first pitch to him was a ball.

"Settle down now," I called, "Rock and roll."

The next pitch was better.  A strike.

"That's the way!"  I shouted.

The count was 1-1 now.  Another pitch just missed on the outside.  Two and
one.

"That's okay," I called, "Way to hum.  Just put it in there!"

Another pitch, this one right down the middle and the batter unloaded on
it.  He lofted a towering fly ball into right foul territory that landed in
the parking lot and bounced off the side of a car.  A crowd of little boys
raced over to fight over it.  Returning foul balls was good for a free soda
at the snack stand.

My pitcher walked around the mound and kicked some dirt on his landing
spot.  At last he got set and stared at the batter.  Then he wound up and
fired a beautiful curveball that tailed off outside as it got to the plate.
Somehow the batter laid off and the umpire called a ball.

The count was full.

"Don't lose it now," I yelled.  "You can do it!"

Even if he hits it, I thought, as long as it's not a home run my guys will
hold them to two runs.  The game would be tied.  So what?  We'll still be
in it.

I was so wrapped up in thinking this and watching my pitcher, I almost
missed it.

I heard Shane call out something.  I don't know what it was.  Maybe
something to encourage the pitcher.  Maybe a heads up to the infield.  I
never did find out.

But it made me think.

Why were we up by two runs?

Because three boys had put us there.  Shane, Sean and the first baseman.
Boys I knew, beyond any possible doubt, had to be linked in ways past my
understanding.

And now, in this semi-final championship game, with our whole season on the
line, it was the bottom of the last inning.  The bases were loaded, there
was only one out and one of the best hitters in the league was at the plate
with a full count.

None it was an accident.  It was all meant to be.

It was their time.

I straightened up in the coach's box, the very air around me seeming alive
with electricity, and I knew exactly what was going to happen – knew it
as well as I knew that the sun would set in the west that night.

My pitcher delivered the ball and time slowed.

I saw the ball drift toward the plate.  The kid'll swing, I thought.  And
he did - a big, looping swing over the top of the ball that sent it
spinning into the infield.  It hit in front of the pitcher's mound and
skittered off toward the left.

I turned my head to follow.  Everything seemed to move in slow-motion, as
if I were dreaming.  I watched Shane take a step to his left and position
himself perfectly on the ball.  It was like a picture in a textbook.  The
muscles in his lean lithe body stood out under his tight uniform.  The ball
hopped up into his glove.  Sean had broken for second as the batter swung.
Now he came striding toward the bag, his trim athletic form moving beneath
his baggy shirt and pants.  Without any hesitation Shane turned and flipped
the ball to second.  It arced, spinning, and reached Sean just as he got to
the base.  The boy caught it, stepped on the bag and then, in a move of
heart-stopping beauty he jumped, pivoting...

An older boy with more upper body strength might have been able to throw
while he was in the air.  But Sean was only eleven.  He had to have his
feet planted so he could use his body in his throw, and this gave the
runner coming from first opportunity to break up the play.  But Sean had
both courage and quickness.  He came out of his pivot and made his throw,
ignoring the oncoming runner.  The ball had no sooner left his hand when
the runner slid into him, knocking him down, but by then the ball was on
its way.

Nothing could have stopped that play.

The throw was not perfect.  The first baseman had to stretch full length...

"Whop!"

The ball hit the glove... the batter's foot came down on the bag... and
then my first baseman was triumphantly holding up glove and ball.

The umpire was signaling the out.

I had started onto the field even before the play was over, but Shane was
ahead of me.  He was already helping Sean up.  I could see that the boy was
all right.

Suddenly everyone behind me in the dugout was racing past me onto the
field.  I heard the people in the stands yelling, screaming, applauding.
It dawned on me that the game was over and we had won.

Shane, Sean and the first baseman were being escorted off the field in
triumph by their teammates.  Sean was limping slightly but he was beaming
happily.  Shane made him tip his cap and the people in the stands applauded
even louder.

The two teams were mingling on the field now, shaking hands, not even
waiting for the coaches to line them up.  Most of these boys were friends
off the field anyway.

I went to find the other coach.

"Man, what a game!" he told me as we shook.  "Those three boys are
something else.  I owe you a steak dinner."

I shook my head.  "We'll split it.  We're both winners in this one.  Our
side just happened to get a few more runs.  Let's do it after the All-Star
picks on Monday night."

"Right," he said.

I finally got my team rounded up and back in the dugout.  They were all
happy and proud as they looked up at me.

"I'll keep this short," I said, smiling at them.  "You've earned the right
to play in the final round for the League Championship.  We'll play that
game next Tuesday against the all 12-year-olds."

There were a few groans at this.

"Yeah, I know," I told them.  "But, believe me; they're pretty worried
about you right now.  And they are beatable.  You darn near did it last
time.  Now - we'll have a practice on Monday.  Just a light one, a few
things to keep you loose, so come for practice at the usual time."

I looked at them all.  I was so proud of them.  The feelings that welled up
in my throat made it hard for me to continue and I had to pause a moment
before going on.  "I said I'd make this short, but I just have to tell you
this.  I'm so very, very proud of you.  Every single one of you played
great today.  Just great.  It's the best thing in the world to be your
coach.  I...  Well, I guess I'm kind of at a loss for words.  You're just
the best, that's all.  The best."

They all stared at me, every one of them just as proud as he could be.

"Well," I told them.  "I guess we better go get some pizza."

"All right!" yelled Shane, and the meeting broke up with cheers.  The team
filed out, but my three boys remained behind.

"We're riding with you, Coach," Shane told me with a grin.

"And, we have to go home with you after,' cause our bikes are like at your
house," the first baseman said.

"And we wanna' stay over tonight and sleep in my tent, Coach," Sean begged.

"Please Coach," Shane asked, "Can you fix it so we can?"

"Please," Sean pleaded.

I chuckled softly.  "Yeah, I can probably fix that for you."

I sat down and looked at the three of them fondly.  "So, you got the double
play you needed to complete the collection.  You met the challenge and I
have to pay off.  You know what we're gonna' do?"

"All you can eat at the steakhouse, right Coach?"  Shane said.

I smiled.  "Steaks are part of it, but not all of it."

Sean stared at me.  "It's gonna' be sompthin' nice, isn't it, Coach.
Sompthin' special!"

"Yup," I told him, "An' I'll tell you what it is after the game on
Tuesday."

The boys all looked at each other and grinned.

"I was awfully proud of you guys today," I told them and then smiled at the
first baseman.  "These other two have had their moments of glory and today
you had yours.  I'm real happy for you, son."

I brought him close and gave him a hug and the boy clung to me, hugging
back.  I stroked his slender back.  His eyes were shining when I let him
go.

"Now, I'll go fix it so you can sleep over in the tent tonight.  You guys
put the equipment bags in the Blazer."

Sean and the first baseman got one of the bags and went out with it.  Shane
was picking up the other when I stopped him.  I put my arms around his
shoulders and pulled him close.  The boy put his arms around my waist and
laid his head against me.

"Thank you, Shane," I said quietly, stroking his tousled hair.  "Thanks for
keeping them all together, and encouraging them, and for making it all
happen."

The boy hugged me very tightly.  "I love you, Coach," he whispered.

"I love you too, son."

The pizza party that followed was a roaring success.  Our crowd of parents,
ballplayers, assorted siblings and various hangers-on must have set some
kind of record for the number of pizzas they consumed.  I made a mental
note to get the owner of the shop to make a contribution to our league.

The exciting ending to the game plus the party and all the food had the
parents in a good mood and with the help of Shane's sister-in-law I was
able to persuade the first baseman's mother to let him participate in the
sleepover.  After stuffing themselves and playing every video game in the
place all three boys piled into the back seat of the Blazer and I took them
back to my apartment.

The moment they came in the door Nikes and leggings were off and soon they
were sprawled in front of the TV wearing only uniform pants and shirts
watching the National Geographic special because Sean and Shane wanted the
first baseman to see it.

I had gotten two more National Geographic's for them, one on the Grand
Canyon and another on the animals of the Great Plains.  I also put two
movies out for them, "The Lost World" and "The Natural".  One had dinosaurs
and the other baseball so I figured one or the other would work.

Shortly into the Grand Canyon tape I noticed that, in the interest of
comfort, the tight baseball pants were being taken off.  I went to get them
all some soda, and when I came back I had two 12-year-olds in just baseball
shirts and jocks, and an 11-year-old in just a baseball shirt.  There were
bare butts and naked legs all over the floor.

I went and got the big soft quilt off my bed and spread it out for them.

"Shane, remind me on Monday to go get some jocks for Sean," I told him.
The boys all giggled.

While the boys were watching their movies I checked their tent and put the
space blanket and a big sleeping bag in it for them.  I left a deck of
cards and a bottle of Hawaiian Tropic on the breakfast bar, pointed them
out to Shane and then watched the movies with them.  The boys were still up
when I went to bed.

I woke up once during the night.  The apartment was quiet.  When I checked,
the living room was empty so I assumed they'd gone out to the tent.  I went
back to bed and slept soundly.

I got up late that morning - late for me being anything after seven
o'clock.  That morning it was almost eight.  I got up, showered, dressed
and made a quick breakfast.  Before cleaning up I put my head out the back
door to check on the tent.  Everything was quiet.  There was no movement.
I crept over so I could put my head down by the flap and was rewarded by
the faint sounds of breathing.  I slipped away back inside, did the dishes
and then went into the living area.  The quilt was still on the floor with
soft cushions and the boys' baseball pants scattered on it.  I put the
Grand Canyon tape in the VCR and stretched out on the quilt to watch.  I
had not yet seen it all the way through.

I was in the midst of it when the door to the outside hall opened and Shane
came in quietly.  He was dressed in just his baseball shirt.  When he saw
me, he padded over and lay next to me.  I took his lean young body into my
arms and kissed him as he pressed himself sweetly against me.  He smelled
of tanning lotion and the coconut aroma combined with the sweet scent of
boy sweat from his shirt was a heady mixture.

I reached down for his boy rod and felt it stiffen under my fingers.  Shane
pulled up his shirt and then lifted his lips to mine as his eyes closed and
his arms twined around me.  His mouth opened and I thrust my tongue deeply
into him, rubbing his straining shaft.  The boy moaned softly and twisted
against me.  I felt his rigid shaft throb.

When our lips parted Shane kissed the hollows of my neck, and then buried
his head in my shoulder while I caressed his smooth firm back and silky
butt.  His shirt was bunched up around his shoulders and I slid my hand
under the folds to stroke the rounded muscles.

The boy sighed deeply and snuggled close.  "What time is it, Coach?"

"It's after nine," I told him.  I wanted him so badly just then that my
voice was only a husky whisper.  I was so hard it was almost painful.
Drips of fluid were oozing from my tip.  I trembled and hugged Shane
tightly.

"Coach," he whispered and hugged back, clinging as he thrust his hips
against mine.

I struggled to push my old pants down.  "Quick!"  I begged.

The boy helped to get everything down to my ankles.  Then he put his warm
little fist on my throbbing shaft.  His touch triggered a tidal response
within me.  I tightened my butt desperately to hold back.  My hips arched
up.

"Take it, Shane!"  I pleaded.  "Take it!  Uhhhhh..."

The boy slid me into his mouth and as moistness surrounded the head of my
straining rod I lost all control, exploding into him.  Shane swallowed
convulsively and fisted the base of my shaft quickly as I came over and
over, filling him with semen.  I twisted and arched, groaning with passion,
throb after throb contracting powerfully in my shaft.

At last I sank back, completely spent.  The boy milked me and licked the
drops off my sensitive tip as I writhed beneath him.  When he pulled off
and I reached for him, hugging him against me.  Impatiently I pushed his
shirt up out of the way so I could feel the full length of his hard little
body against my own.  I covered his face and neck with kisses and then held
him tight, my lips on his, tongue in his mouth, tasting my own semen.

As I rolled us onto our sides the boy wrapped his arms around me and pulled
his leg up over my hip.  I held him with one arm and reached into his groin
with the other so I could take his rigid penis and rub quickly.  Shane
moaned, then trembled, clutching at me, and as I held him tighter and
rubbed even faster his hips bucked.  The boy's thickened shaft pulsed
rapidly and then contracted hard twice.  As he twisted against me I rubbed
my fingers over his sensitive tip and felt him pulse again.

At last he began to relax.  I slowed the rhythm of my fingers on him and
then stopped as our lips parted.  He rested his head on my chest while I
stroked gently, letting my palm slide over his velvety sides and the
delicate hollow of his lean waist.

"Shane, Shane..." I whispered, stroking and caressing.  "You're the best
boy in the world, Shane.  The best.  The best in the world."

The young boy hugged, snuggling against me.  I felt his little heart
beating in his chest.  I could have held him like that forever.

At last I saw his eyes open.  He looked up at me dreamily and whispered,
"Coach..."

"Shane..." I whispered back.

He smiled sweetly.  "Now I've had breakfast."

"Yeah..."  I leaned down to kiss his nose.  "The best kind, too."

The boy giggled and nestled closer.

"I wish we were by ourselves, Coach,"

"We will be.  When's the birthday party Sean's going to?"

"Around one, I think."

"You better go get them up," I told him.  "I'll make some breakfast."

Shane got up reluctantly and stood looking down at the way his hard four
inches tented out the bottom of the shirt.  He stroked himself and smiled
at me mischievously.  Then he slipped into the hallway to go to the back.

He was gone longer than I expected.  I put out bowls of cereal and milk,
and got some eggs started while I waited.  At last there was whispering and
the pattering of bare feet in the hall, and then all three boys came
through the door giggling.  They were in nothing but their shirts.  Shane
and the first baseman were carrying their jocks.  They closed the door to a
crack and peered back out.

"Coach, there was a girl next-door trying to see us," Shane told me.  All
three were obviously having a wonderful time.

"I think she did see you, Shane," the first baseman said.

"Just my butt.  She couldn't see this..."  Shane pulled his shirt up in
front and the other boys giggled.

They kept peeking out into the hallway but no one followed them in.  Either
the girl had left, or she was entirely imaginary.  I did not know of one
who lived around me.

At length they closed the door and came over to eat.  Like Shane, the other
two boys smelled strongly of tanning lotion.  They all ate cereal hungrily.
When they had finished and I had gotten them started on some eggs and
toast, I went back to the quilt to see the end of the video.

I was quickly joined by three nearly naked boys.  Sean lay down next to me
and snuggled happily into my arms.  The two others got on my other side.
Shane leaned back against me and the first baseman leaned against him.
Shane put his arm protectively around his friend's shoulders and stroked
him.

I held Sean's trim perfectly formed little body and petted him.  His shirt
had pulled halfway up exposing tummy and groin, and I watched his slender
little shaft, already half stiff, raise into full rigidity.  Reaching with
my fingers I rubbed gently, feeling the hardness swell as the boy squirmed
and tightened his butt.  His eyes closed and his tender lips parted.  He
twisted around and stroked a warm hand over my shoulder.

I released his straining rod and circled a palm on his lean belly and
delicate waist.  Then I slid my hand along the silky skin inside his
thighs.  After several caresses I moved my fingers back to his quivering
rod and began to rub again.  The boy stirred, pulling up one knee and
opening his legs.  Tightening his arms around me he nestled close and I
kept moving my hand over him, pumping his boy rod and then stroking his
soft skin.  Sean's thighs strained to open further and he gave a soft moan.

I pushed my hand up under his shirt and slid my palm over his slender
chest.  The tiny nipples were hard beneath my probing fingertips and Sean
arched his head back, lifting his slender arms over his head to let me
explore further.

"Take it off," he whispered softly.

I slipped his shirt off completely and the boy lay naked in my arms.  His
body was beautifully put together and flawlessly proportioned, the childish
muscles perfectly defined under nearly translucent skin.  Sean was just at
the onset of development and I could see the beginnings of growth in his
legs.  Chest and shoulders showed rounded firmness from the exercises he
had been doing with Shane.

I let my hands roam over his upper body, caressing taut back, slender
shoulders and smooth silky chest.  Sean arched, writhing beneath me.  As I
slid my palm down his side and onto the satiny hollow of his tiny waist he
lifted his face to be kissed.  Then, as I took his rigid penis and began to
rub firmly, his arms tightened around me

Behind me I felt Shane's body moving.  I could tell he had taken off his
shirt when his naked back pressed against mine.  He was twisting slowly and
I heard someone groan softly.

I concentrated on Sean.  The young boy was so incredibly sweet.  I kept
alternately caressing and rubbing him as he writhed in passion beneath me.
I took his hand and pushed it beneath my pants, and then I unbuttoned them
and pushed down the fly.  I felt the boy's warm fingers exploring and then
his little fist took my shaft and rubbed.

For a long time we lay together, stroking, kissing...  At last, as I rubbed
Sean faster, his taut little body quivered.  He tensed, arching as first
one tremor and then a second shot through him.  I slid my fingers rapidly
up and down his quivering little rod and the boy gave a soft cry as his
head pulled back, hips straining upwards.  His entire body jerked as his
hard little shaft pulsed in a rapid series of throbs.  Then he sank down
against me and I held him close, feeling his heart pounding in his chest.

I kissed his fine blonde hair and stroked his silky butt and he snuggled
tight against me.  Leaning over I kissed him again.  "Coach..." he
whispered very softly, clinging tight.

"I love you, son," I whispered.

I held him until his heartbeat slowed.  Behind me Shane was twisting and
writhing.  I heard soft whispers and moans.  Suddenly I felt Shane's body
tense and there was a little cry of passion.  Then he gradually relaxed.
There were more murmurings and then silence.

I waited for a while, gently caressing the beautiful young boy in my arms.
Then at last I said, "Shane, We better get Sean ready to go to his party.
Why don't you take him into the bathroom and give him a shower."

After tickling Sean gently to make him giggle happily, I turned my head to
look behind me.  Shane and the first baseman were both naked.  The first
baseman lay sprawled against Shane with his head on his friend's shoulder.
Shane was stroking his side.

The two boys parted reluctantly.  Shane got up and so did I.  I reached
down, picked Sean up so I could tickle him again and then put him on his
feet.  I smiled down at him and then knelt so I could examine his legs.
There were bruises and some healed cuts on his shins that I stroked
tenderly.

"They're okay, Coach," the boy assured me.  "It hurt yesterday, but it's
okay today."

I got back up and stroked his hair.  "You're my brave boy.  Shane, make
sure he gets a good shower.  I want him to look nice for this party.  Clean
him all over."

The two boys grinned.  They were both rigidly hard, their stiffies jutting
straight out, Shane's thicker and longer than Sean's.

"I'll take care of him, Coach," Shane promised.  He put his arm around Sean
and led him off toward the bathroom.

As soon as they were gone I turned back to my first baseman who was sitting
naked on the quilt hugging his knees.  When I stroked the boy's shoulders,
he came into my arms, hugging tight and pressing his nude body against
mine.  He was trembling slightly.  I stroked his warm tender skin and
kissed his thick mop of brown hair.

"I like you a lot, Coach," he whispered.

I heard the faint sound of the shower start up in the back of the
apartment.  Pulling the slender boy to me, I reveled in the feel of his
young supple body.  He was as well built as Shane, but without Shane's
extreme definition.  Instead, this boy was all young slim grace, the long
rounded muscular build of a swimmer or a dancer.  He moved against me and
as I cupped his firm rounded butt he lifted his lips to be kissed, body
shuddering with passion.

"I was happy you did well yesterday," I told him when our lips parted.

"I was scared, Coach," the boy told me in a small voice.  "But I remembered
what you told Sean.  I tried not to show it.  I wanted you to be proud of
me."

"I was," I assured him.  "I still am.  I always have been.  Don't you know
that?"

He stared at me with wide dark eyes, shaking his head and I realized how
desperate this boy had been for my approval all season.

"I think you, Shane and Sean are the best, most wonderful boys in the
world," I told him.  "I thought you knew that.  But if you didn't, you know
it now."

He looked up anxiously.  "You like me as much as you like Shane and Sean,
don't you Coach?"

"Just as much," I assured him.  I slid my hand down the smooth satin of his
flank and pushed it between our bodies so I could take his hard slender
shaft into my fingers.  His straining boy stick was not quite as thick as
Shane's but it had begun to lengthen just as his friend's had.

The boy moaned softly as I began to rub.  His arms tightened around me and
his body shuddered again.

"Coach, please show me stuff like you do Shane," he begged.

"Yeah," I whispered, and kissed him.  I rubbed him faster and the boy
writhed against me, lips parting beneath mine.  My tongue pushed in and he
groaned softly.  His entire body tensed as he thrust his hips against my
stroking fingers.  I felt his stiff shaft throb powerfully.

Rolling onto my back I pulled the boy up so his rounded butt sat in the
hollow of my stomach and his head fell back over my left shoulder.  Pushing
his arms up I arranged them around my neck and then took his quivering rod
and began to rub again, stroking my fingers up and down the engorged little
shaft, slipping them over the sensitive head.  The boy stretched, arching
his slender body in ecstasy.

With my other hand I pulled up his left thigh so I could reach around into
his butt crease.  My finger probed his tight little opening, finding it
slick with oily lotion.  The boy uttered a sigh of delight, "Oooooooo!"  He
pulled up his other slim rounded leg, strained his thighs apart and when I
felt his ring loosen my finger slid up into his body.

The boy's head went back, lips parting in a soundless cry.  As I kept
rubbing faster his opening loosened even more and I slipped a second finger
up into his hot sweetness.  Twisting them, pushing as far as I could, I
brought the boy into arching tension and he moaned and turning his head
from side to side.  The long rounded muscles of his slender body stood out.
His belly was so taut I could see smooth squares of definition beneath his
silky skin.  He gave a soft shuddering cry, "Uhhhhhhhhh..." and his rigid
shaft contracted powerfully under my fingers, pulsing again and again as
droplets of milky fluid rolled from the tip.

After a final jerking thrust of his hips the boy sank back down on top of
me, sprawling limply.  His knees sagged apart.  I let my fingers slide out
and stroked his tummy and rounded thighs gently.  When I rolled him onto
his side and took his slim supple body into my arms he stirred and clung
tightly, trembling against me.

I stroked his thick hair and kissed his slender shoulder over and over
until he quieted.  His trembling stopped but he continued to hug tight.  I
slid my hand down over his slim tapering back and mounded butt.

"Okay?" I asked.

He nodded and moved his warm little hands over my bare shoulders, twisting
to squirm against me.  We stayed that way for a while, until I heard the
shower go off in the bathroom.

"They'll be coming back out now," I whispered.

The boy let go reluctantly.  As his body slid off mine he took my arm and
looked up at me.  "Please Coach, do more," he said in an urgent whisper.

"We will," I promised him.

I helped him put his shirt back on.  When Shane and Sean came out from the
bathroom I was leaning back on the pillows with my arm around my first
baseman as he rested against my shoulder.  My hand was on the bottom of the
shirt rubbing his slender hard branch under the thin cloth.

Shane and Sean stretched out naked on either side of us.  Shane pushed up
against me and took my free hand, putting it on his hard erection.  Sean
lay next to the first baseman and snuggled against him.  He put his little
fingers with mine and helped me rub.

"Time to get dressed, guys," I told them.

"No, Coach," Sean said.  "Just a little more."

"We have to get you home so you can go your party."

"There's time," he said.

"'Fraid not."  I sat up slowly as three nude boys sprawled around me.
Shane rolled over and began to tickle the first baseman and Sean joined in.
The boy shrieked with laughter and curled into a ball.

I tapped Shane on the shoulder.  "Come on," I said.

"Okay, Coach."  He got up slowly and the others followed.  They got dressed
reluctantly in their baseball uniforms.  I got a brush from my bedroom and
brushed their hair.

"You look so good in those uniforms," I told them, admiring them proudly.
"I hope everyone sees you on the way home and knows what champions you
are."

They all smiled and looked at me with shining eyes.

We went downstairs into the garage where I inspected their bicycles
carefully.  Shane's still looked in good condition and I wiped it down with
a cloth after putting some wax on the paintwork.  The first baseman's bike
needed some work.  I tightened his brake calipers and chain, oiled his
sprocket and then ran a cloth over his paint and chrome, too.

"Next time you come we'll do a little work on this," I told him.

They wheeled their bikes out onto the driveway.

"By the way," I told them.  "Don't make any plans for next weekend."

They all looked at me.

"Why, Coach?" my first baseman asked.

"I have a feeling we might be doing something then."

Sean was bouncing up and down.  "It's somethin' about the surprise, isn't
it Coach," he said excitedly.  "I know it.  It's somethin' about what
you're gonna' tell us after the game."

Shane was grinning at me.

"You'll see," I told them.  "Just don't make any plans, that's all.  Now,
you guys be careful riding home.  Don't forget practice tomorrow.  And
Sean, you have a good time at that party."

I gave them all a little pat, whispering, "I love you guys."

They got on their bikes and peddled down the driveway.  Sean stood on the
back pegs of Shane's bicycle.  I waved to them as they turned into the
street.

The apartment seemed very empty without them.  I cleaned everything up,
went out and straightened up their tent and collected the space blanket and
sleeping bag to put them away.  In the far corner of the tent was the deck
of cards, a little oily with tanning lotion, and the empty bottle of
Hawaiian Tropic.

I kept looking at the clock, wondering if Shane would come back.  Perhaps
his brother and sister-in-law wanted him to go somewhere with them, or
perhaps he and the first baseman would spend the day together.  There were
a lot of possibilities.  I waited hopefully.  I tried to read but I was too
restless.  Finally I made a light lunch and ate it.  Just in case, I made
some extra sandwiches for Shane in case he came back.

[ To Be Continued In Parts J and K ]

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-

Hope you enjoyed 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.

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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.  To
get that list click the Authors tab at the top of the Nifty home page and
then select 'Prolific Authors'.  I hope you will read and enjoy!

All the Best.  Joe