THE AMERICAN DREAM

1.15 ▫︎ APRIL, 1934 ↦ BUCKY

1.15 ▫︎ APRIL, 1934 ↦ BUCKY

The next day after school, the evening sun was not so bad that day at baseball practice. For nearly two hours, Bucky had not left the pitcher's mound and his shoulder ached like hell. He collapsed onto the dugout bench where the assistant coach was waiting with ice wrapped in a cloth. "Thanks, Coach," he said. The old man was not paid enough for what he did here, but Bucky knew that this was his passion. He would not have stayed on the team if it was not for Coach Meyers.

"You need to take it easy for the rest of the day, son."

Bucky sighed, glancing at his feet. He knew that Coach did not want him boxing. And he knew it was bad for his arm to be overworking it like this. "This is my last year," Bucky countered. "I'm putting myself all in. Champ here, champ there. Bada bing bada boom."

Coach Meyers frowned. "Alright then Barnes. I'll see you tomorrow." Bucky stood up and grabbed the fabric wrap and began to fasten the ice to his shoulder. As Coach Meyers stepped out of the dugout, he turned to Bucky once more. "And I know you have been training for your championship, son. I know the reward may be tempting, but remember to take care of yourself. You cant take care of everyone."

And with that, he left Bucky alone. He headed back to the located room and changed back into his clothes. Brown trouser, a white undershirt and green button up over it. He left his left arm out of the sleeve so ice could have room to alleviate the inflammation and pain in the shoulder.

As he was lacing his shoes, another guy came in. Bucky looked up to see his class and teammate, Bill Werther.

"Seems like you've got first locked down," Bucky noted. "What a play you made earlier."

Bill smiled. "Not too bad yourself, Barnes."

"Too bad you can't hit my curveball, or you'd be the whole package."

The first baseman scoffs. "Well at least I can hit a pitch."

Bucky chuckled as he swung his bag over his arm.

Bill pulled his shirt over his shoulders and spoke again. "Say, Bucky, are you headed over to Goldie's right now?"

He nodded. "Yeah. I'm gonna train for a few hours."

"Do you need a sparring partner?" Bill asked

Bucky smiled, shaking his hand. "Sure thing, pal."

The wall from the school to Goldie's was about 4 blocks, and it didn't take them very long to get there and get wrapped up.

"Where's Rogers?" Bill asked as he slipped on his leather padded helmet.

"He said he was going home after school." Bucky said with a shrug. "Who knows what the punk is actually doing."

Bill snickered as he pulled his gloves over his wrapper hands. "I swear it's like that guy asks for his ass to be kicked."

"He really does," Bucky agreed. "I can't keep up with him."

"He's a pretty swell fellow. I don't know why he doesn't hang around."

Using his teeth, Bucky pulled the laces tight and tied them in his second glove. "Well, you know... some of the guys aren't that nice."

"Roy?"

Bucky gave him a look of agreement.

"Well, prom is coming up? You always have a date of some sort. Who are you taking?"

Bucky knocked the ice off his shoulder, which had mostly melted away and stretched his arm across his chest. "I dunno, Bill. I guess it won't be hard, but I sure didn't get closer to finding a date Saturday."