Basics [A Sandlot Story]

8 || The di Marello Development

Andrew was an odd sort of friend to have. Or at least, in comparison to the friends Ty was used to anyway. He was loud, popular, and people seemed to respect him an incredible amount, as though he were twenty-four and already in quite an accomplished career, rather than a fourteen year-old boy who was just overly involved in his little league team. Thus, by default, Ty - who generally preferred to remain out of the social limelight - was also quickly becoming well-known and well-respected, simply by association. She wasn't sure whether to be pleased or anxious.

It was a Thursday afternoon, some seven or eight days after they had first met. Ty was sitting in what had become her spot at the back of the bleachers, watching Andrew and his friends wrap up another training session, laughing and joking with one another as they filed off the field.

Today, she couldn't help but watch with a scowl on her face. It had been more than a week since she had begun to hang around with the Tigers, and she was growing tired of continuously spectating. It was irritating, and honestly rather boring.

Andrew seemed to be able to guess as much as he approached her later, wearing a thoughtful expression.

"Can you pitch a ball, Ty?" Was the first thing he asked as he bounded up the bleachers. She looked up from the book she had brought with her, caught slightly off-guard.

"Can I pitch a ball?" She repeated. He nodded.

"Yeah. Manny Vasquez broke his wrist biking up to visit his aunt yesterday afternoon. I thought we'd be able to get through a session without him, but it was pretty tough out there today." He rubbed the back of his neck, looking almost embarrassed. "Then I remembered you sayin' you liked sports, an' I thought maybe you'd be able to help us out."

Ty frowned a little, biting her lip apprehensively.

"I can pitch." She affirmed, holding up a hand before he could get another word out. "It's nothing flash or fancy, though. I'm much better at batting." Andrew grinned all the same.

"Naw, I'm sure you'll be fine. Nothin' too serious. Just tossing the ball so that some of the less coordinated fellas can get a feel for hittin' it."

She considered his words for a moment.

"The other boys aren't going to like this, you know." She told him. She knew from experience. He shrugged, nodding.

"I know."

"So why are you asking me then?"

"Because I'm captain. And what I says goes."

She wanted to argue that teams didn't usually work like that - they either fell apart under that kind of rule or pushed for a more democratic approach - but for once, someone else was trying to do something nice for her, so she kept her mouth shut.

The following day, at around ten o'clock, Ty was ready and waiting for the Tigers. She had her mitt in hand, her hair tied back, and a steely expression of determination settled across her face. Andrew was handing her an opportunity here - she'd be daft not to take it.

The team was mostly silent as he informed them she'd be joining in. A few looked like they were about to burst an organ of some kind. A dark haired boy, whom she vaguely remembered being called Eric, went quite red in the face, opening his mouth to protest. But before he could say a word, the tall blond boy beside him stepped forward, arms crossed, a thoughtful expression on his face.