I have to stand in between the batters Noah is facing and stretch. My back is starting to ache from sitting down for too long, but thankfully it’s almost over. We’re in the top of the fifth and we’re taking the field.
“You okay?” Liam asks as he hands me a bottle of water.
I nod and keep shifting from foot to foot, pressing my hands into my lower back to relieve some of the strain. “Just stiff from sitting for so long,” I tell myself. When Noah strikes out the third batter, ending the inning I sit back down, only to have fingers start kneading my back.
“Relax,” my mom says as she digs her fingers into my lower back. “You’re full of stress right now and there’s no reason to be.”
I take a long drink of my water and point to the dugout where her grandson is about to step up to the plate. “He’s my stress,” I tell her. “And yet he’s so calm about everything.”
“That’s because he’s just like Liam. I remember watching many games and biting my nails because I thought we were going to lose and there was Liam, cool as a cucumber.”
I bump my leg with Liam’s, and he smirks. “He was cocky, Mom, there’s a difference.”
Liam turns and winks and I blow him a kiss. When Noah’s name is announced over the loud speaker my mom stops rubbing my back so we can watch.
“Let’s go, Westbury, keep your eye on the ball!” Liam yells after Noah swings and misses.
He digs his right foot into the dirt before stepping in to face the batter again. The pitch is delivered and I reach for Liam’s hand, squeezing tightly, as Noah steps with his left foot and starts the bat rotation. The thwack of the ball hitting the bat ricochets loudly throughout the stadium. Our side is yelling at him to run, while the other side is yelling at their kids to drop the ball.
It’s a hit down the left field base line, good for a double.
“Okay, Appleton, bring him home!” Liam shouts. Junior Appleton is a big kid for his age, but a damn fine baseball player. He works just as hard as Noah does on his game, spending extra time with Nick. The thought occurs to me that Nick is like everyone’s surrogate dad. He’s always willing to help the kids learn and get better. I know for a fact that when the boys won the state title he was beside himself and almost brought to tears when Liam said he’d cover the charges for the team to fly. We haven’t spoken much since we’ve gotten here because he’s been busy with team and coaching events, but I can’t imagine what he’s feeling right now. Knowing him the way I do, he’s telling himself that this is just another baseball game.
Junior is faced with a full-count. Liam is as anxious for him as he was for Noah. Candy is on the bottom bleacher, rocking back and forth. I feel her pain.
The loud clank brings us all to standing. The outfielders are running and Noah is holding tight to second with his eyes focused on Nick. Goosebumps take over and Liam and I squeeze each other’s hand. I don’t know what to watch, the ball or my son. As soon as I see the ball fly over the outfielder’s head, I’m screaming as loud as I can.
When Noah crosses the plate, I’m jumping up and down along with Aubrey. Two pregnant chicks shouldn’t jump at the same time because it messes up your equilibrium. Liam catches me as I wobble and Harrison grabs a hold of Aub
rey, but that doesn’t stop us. When Junior rounds third, we become louder. Everyone is screaming. The ball is thrown and Junior slides. The whole stadium grows quiet as we wait for the umpire.
When he goes out wide calling Junior safe, we erupt in cheers. We are up by two runs in the bottom of the sixth. If Noah can hold off the power hitters for the Japanese team, we win.
“Oh god, I have to pee.’ I cross my legs in an effort to hold it.
“Want me to walk with you?” My mother offers. I turn and glare at her. She must think I’m nuts if I’m leaving when my son is pitching in the LLWSC game.
“Are you crazy? I’d rather pee my pants than miss Noah pitching.”
“She’s not crazy, Josie. She’s just offering. Face forward like a good girl and watch your son. I’m sure by all the daggers you just put in your mom’s chest, she knows you’re willing to pee down your leg,” Liam says as if nothing is amiss.
“Don’t be gross,” I say to Liam, who throws his hands up in the air.
As soon as I sit down my mom is back to giving me a massage. I feel a little bad for Aubrey because I’m getting pampered, but I really like it and I don’t want my mom to stop.
“Come on, Westbury.” Liam is upset because Noah just walked a batter, putting a runner on first base. “It’s just you and Junior out there,” he says, encouraging him to work with his catcher.
The second batter strikes out swinging. It’s our first out. We’re just two outs away from the championship. All the moms are rocking back and forth with our hands in praying position. The younger kids are the cheerleaders, using their chants to distract the batters. Behind us, the broadcasters are talking and over the course of the ten days we’ve been here, they’ve done specials on certain kids. Noah was one of them. Noah does a lot stuff that makes me proud, but I was over the moon when he answered the question about how it feels to be Liam Page’s son with: “I don’t know Marv, how does it feel to be your dad’s son?”
After the interview, the broadcaster apologized to Noah and asked to do the interview over again. Noah gave him another chance and finally got to talk about himself and his passion for baseball and football. I’m sure somewhere during the television broadcast they brought up Liam’s high school career and cover from Sports Illustrated.
The third batter hits a pop fly, which is easily caught by our third basemen. The runner has to stay at first, even though he tried to act like he was going to run. The next batter up is Japan’s big hitter. He’s hit a homerun in every game, except for this one. Junior calls timeout and heads to the mound, followed by Nick. You can tell they’re talking strategy because Noah and Junior have their mouths covered. Nick brings the rest of the infield in briefly before heading back to the dugout.
“What’s going on?” I ask Liam, who is staring intently at Noah.
He shakes his head. “Nick’s just calming him down, telling him where he wants the pitches to be.”
I’m so nervous that my heart is going to burst out of my chest. I close my eyes when Noah starts his pitching motion, opening just in time to see the batter start his swing. The ball is hit and we all stand, our side breathing a sigh of relief when it goes foul.