The GHOST and Charlie Dusenberry
Chapter Eleven: DD Day

PG. 32 TGACD R. ZEIS

Friday morning arrived and the Dusenberry family was glad to see it. Susan had arranged for friends to help her finish up her furniture projects in the garage on Saturday. DD looked forward to baseball practice after school. Charlie just looked forward to sleeping late the next morning.

Friday didn’t go too badly for Charlie. Zeph Yarnell behaved himself in class probably because the weekend was too close to risk another after school stay. One other bright spot was Charlie got to eat lunch with DD.

After choosing between pizza, peanut butter, and jelly sandwiches, or chicken nuggets and French fries, DD and Charlie settled on the pizza. As DD always said, “you can never go wrong with pizza, even school-made pizza.”

“Today’s the day, Dad!”

Charlie had been about to take his first bite of lunch when DD made his statement. “What’s that, DD?”

“At practice this afternoon Coach Estrada will let us know if anyone has volunteered to be our coach.”

Charlie sat back in his chair and sighed. “I hope someone has stepped up for you, DD.”

“Someone has,” countered DD, “you have.”

Charlie sighed again, “That’s only if nobody else has. DD you know I wouldn’t be a very good coach.”

“Sure you would.”

“Why would you say that?”

“Because,” DD smiled, “I would be there to help you.”

Charlie sadly shook his head, but at the same time felt very lucky to have a great kid like DD. The faith the boy had in him was touching. But his doubts caused that old familiar fear to rise up in his throat like bile. Fear of letting his son down.

Silently Charlie prayed, “God, please help me.”

PG. 33 TGACD R. ZEIS

The school day seemed to last forever. But finally, the clocked ticked off the minutes until the school bell sang at three o’clock and the students poured out the front door. DD met up with his friend Grego and boarded the bus. As always, they sat together near the back of the bus and discussed the trials and tribulations of their school day.

The bus dropped the two boys off near their homes and the youngsters raced each other to DD’s house. Laughing, they promised to meet up in front of Grego’s house for the short walk to practice in a little over an hour.

As practice time neared, parents dropped their kids off at the little league diamond and most drove away. Only a few stayed to watch the practice. DD and Grego were able to walk the short distance there.

“This is Coach Estrada’s last practice,” said Grego.

“I know,” DD answered sadly.

Grego put a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “I hope coach has some good news for us.” He paused. “You know, I mean about another coach volunteering.”

DD shook his head in understanding. “We’ll see.”

Hector Estrada watched as his twelve ballplayers made their way to the field. He felt close to several of the kids who he had coached several times over the past years. There were some new ones, however.

Take Mitzi Wright, an eleven-year-old African American. She was undoubtedly the fastest kid he had ever coached. In his nine years of coaching, Mitzi proved to be one of the best base runners and fielders he had seen. However, no matter how hard she tried, she could never make contact with a pitched baseball.

Then there was Billy Mickelson. He was a tall, skinny kid. In fact, that was his nickname, “Skinny.” Here was another head-scratching talent. Billy was one of the Yankees’ possible starting pitchers. He could bring the heat, but batters took their life in their hands when in the batter’s box. Skinny was wild. You never knew where the ball would go once he unleashed it from the mound.

On the opposite end of the size spectrum was Wally Wilson. The kid never stopped eating! He was a good kid, but way overweight. Wally took a lot of guff about is weight, but it didn’t seem to bother him.

Estrada instructed the arriving players to get some baseballs out of the equipment bag and toss them around to warm up. Two of his new kids then caught his attention.

“Hey, Jason! Grab a ball and let’s have a catch.”

PG. 34 TGACD R. ZEIS

“Why would I want to have a catch with you, Jack?”

“Maybe it’s because everyone else has someone to catch with you MORON!”

“You’re the moron, Jason!”

Estrada stepped between the two twin brothers. “Cut it out you two! Warm-up together.”

Jason and Jack were always bickering about something. It was the same story every practice. The coach would have a problem separating them on game day.

Only he wouldn’t be there on game day. What a raw deal. With that in mind, Estrada noted that all twelve players had arrived. He might as well get the bad news over with.

“Everyone gather around and take a knee.”

As he expected, the first two to hustle over were his best players. Dalton Dusenberry was a bona fide all-star pitcher and catcher. His buddy, Grego Carter, was a past all-star catcher and first baseman. Grego could also pitch in a pinch. These two gave the team a fighting chance to win a game or two.

The rest of the Yankees wandered over. Estrada mentally checked them off:

-Willow Spencer. Twelve-year-old who NEVER got dirty. Estrada had never seen the young lady slide or dive for a ball.

-Tommy Waldrip. Nice kid, but a bit nerdy.

-Chris “The Beast” Harper. Big guy. He could hit the ball a mile when he didn’t strike out…which was a lot.

-Mohammad Ator. He was really new. He had only been to two practices so the jury was still out on him.

-And then there was Cleon Jones, another African American. As usual, he had his earbuds in listening to music. Cripe, he even tried to leave his earbuds in when he took batting practice.

Here they were. This season’s version of the little league Yankees. His team, for one more hour. Estrada felt lousy.

“OK, everybody quiet down. And, Cleon! Get those ear things out!”

PG. 35 TGACD R. ZEIS

Everybody turned to stare at Cleon who smiled and slowly pulled his earbuds out. “What can I say, I got the beat!” Estrada couldn’t help but smile.

“Thank you, Cleon.” Estrada paused a moment and then slowly scanned the faces of his players. “It’s good to see everybody made practice today.”

“What about our new coach?” Mitzi Wright yelled.’

“I’m getting to that, Mitzi.” Estrada cleared his throat as a hush fell over the gathered players. “Up until a few minutes ago, I hadn’t received any news from the league office that a volunteer coach had been found.”

Disappointment cropped up on many young faces. Even a low moan was heard.

“However, I did get a volunteer’s name just before practice from DD.”

At that, everyone turned to stare at DD.

“DD’s dad said he would coach you until another volunteer surfaced”

Some of the Yankees let go with a cheer. Others continued to stare at DD.

“Does your dad even like baseball?” asked Mitzi.

“Yeah, DD. How come he’s never at any of our games?” added Skinny Mickelson.

DD blushed and looked down at the ground. Before he could utter a reply Coach Estrada stepped in.

“Be grateful Mr. Dusenberry is willing to help you guys out. None of your parents did!”

That had a sobering effect on the youngsters. In fact, some of them looked embarrassed.

“OK, Yankees! Let’s get some fielding practice in. Get to your positions.” Estrada put a hand on DD’s shoulder and pulled him aside as the rest of the team raced onto the field. “Can I see you for a minute?”

DD looked up at his coach wondering what he had to say.

“I’m glad your dad stepped up for the team.”

“Thanks, coach. I hope it all works out.”

PG. 36 TGACD R. ZEIS

“I’m sure it will. I’ll take you home after practice today and deliver the equipment to your house. I’ll meet with your dad tonight when he gets home. That will give me a chance to discuss the players with him.”

DD thanked his coach and then slowly walked out to the field. Both DD and Coach Estrada didn’t know it, but both of them were saying silent prayers at the same time.

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