Kyle stuffed his running shoes into his duffel bag, then walked across the track toward the baseball field, the shortcut to his car. Normally, the field was empty after his run, but today a crowd was gathering. As he approached the field, he spotted his work supervisor, Craig.

He jogged toward Craig, calling out, “Hey, Boss!”

Craig turned in Kyle’s direction. “Oh, Kyle. I wasn’t expecting to see you here.”

“I run here on Saturday mornings.”

“Ah…I thought you were here for the game, but running makes more sense.”

Kyle eyed the crowd. “It’s kind of early for a game. What’s up with that?”

“Oh, it’s a special league. It just started. We had to take an early slot to get access to the field.” He motioned toward the bleachers. “Would you like to join me?”

“What? Watch the game?” Kyle raised an eyebrow. “You don’t have a kid in this game, do you?”

“No, but—”

“That’s good. Parents are the worst at baseball games. They’re always yelling at the ump.”

“That’s not likely at this game.”

“Why? Don’t they have an ump?”

“That’s not what I meant. These parents have a different perspective.”

Kyle rolled his eyes. “Yeah, right. That’s what they all say. ’Til their team starts to lose or little Johnny strikes out.”

“I understand what you’re saying,” said Craig as he waved to a young couple in the bleachers. “But these parents—”

Kyle smirked. “Oh…I get it. You’ve got friends here.”

“Well, yes…but—”

“Really, I get it. I know how you are. You see the best in everyone. Rose-colored glasses and all that. But I’m telling you, baseball brings out the worst in people. You’ll see. Don’t be too disappointed when I’m right.”

“I’ll keep that in mind. Thanks. Does that mean you’ll be joining me?”

“Sure, why not? I’ve got time before I have to meet Ally.”

As they approached the bleachers, Kyle stopped. “Maybe we should sit at the edge? Away from the crowd. We don’t wanna get stuck near some crazy parent screaming in our ears.”

“I don’t think—”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. Your friends don’t do that. But trust me, the rest of the parents will.”

Craig sighed.

Kyle climbed the bleachers, sat down, and saw several young children, wearing green and orange jerseys, jogging onto the field. He watched a young boy stop at first base, tap it twice with his shoe, then jerk his head several times.

Movement in the outfield drew Kyle’s attention. A young girl flapped her arms, then held them tight to her side.

“Whoop, whoop. Whoop, whoop.”

Kyle scanned the field to locate the source of the whooping. The catcher, who seemed to be the only person on the field who wasn’t jittery, was whooping. He squatted and held his position.

A batter dressed in a blue and red jersey stepped up to the plate. He pinched his upper lip, set the bat down, and shook his hands. Then he picked up the bat and took his stance.

Kyle looked at the pitcher, who set his glove and the ball on the ground, then flicked both of his ears. After this, he placed his hand into the glove, flicked one ear with his free hand, then picked up the ball.

A woman in the crowd called out, “It’s okay, take your time. You’re fine.”

The crowd clapped and cheered.

After a few head twitches, the pitcher set his legs in position, drew back his arm to throw the ball, but stopped suddenly.

Kyle looked back at the batter, who had set the bat down again and seemed to be repeating the routine he had performed earlier.

When Kyle looked back at the pitcher, he expected him to look frustrated or annoyed. Instead, he was waiting patiently with a calm expression.

When the batter settled in again, the pitcher flicked his ear with the baseball, twitched a few times, then threw the ball. The bat connected, and the batter ran to first base. The ball rolled past the young girl in the outfield. She chased it until it came to rest, then she flapped her arms, followed by holding them tight to her side. Keeping one arm tight to her side, she reached out with the other and picked up the ball. Turning around, she looked toward first base, where the batter was now chatting with the first baseman. She turned toward the pitcher and threw the ball.

“Man, I knew baseball players had bizarre rituals, but this team reminds me of that Christmas movie with the island of misfit toys. What in the world is going on around here?” asked Kyle.

Craig sighed and stood up. “I’d explain, but my nephew’s on deck to bat. He could use some help staying relaxed. Here.” He handed a brochure to Kyle. “Read this.” Then he climbed down the bleachers.

Kyle looked at the brochure. The heading read:

‘Tourette Syndrome Sports League.’

Under the heading was a photo of a baseball that had a blue heart scribbled on it, apparently drawn by a child.

Under the photo it read:

‘A special thank you to our supporters. Many of our precious children suffer ridicule and judgment when they attempt to participate in their local school or community leagues. This league will allow them to play sports in a loving and relaxed environment where they can be themselves and still find acceptance’.

When Craig returned to his seat, Kyle said, “I’m sorry, man. I didn’t realize.”

“That’s okay, Kyle. Some people just need a little extra grace.”

“Right. Yeah…I should have thought about that. Those kids need extra grace.”

“Actually, I wasn’t talking about them.”

“Huh?” Then it dawned on him. “Oh…right…me. Oops.”

__________

Want more stories starring Kyle? Check out The Thugs Next Door and A Slice of Advice in April’s Bookstore.

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April Wenzel writes family-friendly fiction. She is a multi-story FaithWriters Challenge winner. Her readers often describe her work as sweet, intriguing, funny, and surprising. April firmly believes that her most valuable and joy-filled roles are wife, mother, daughter, sister, and friend. Read her full bio at aprilwenzel.com/about.

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