The GHOST and Charlie Dusenberry
Chapter Twelve: Facing Reality

PG. 37 TGACD R. ZEIS

Charlie Dusenberry’s fate revealed itself when he pulled into his driveway. For Charlie, it had been a longer than usual day at school. A scheduled faculty meeting and some continuing education work had kept him there until after five o’clock.

The relief of finally getting home quickly faded as he saw standing by the garage door were Susan, DD and DD’s baseball coach. Charlie tried to put a name to the coach’s face but failed. It was some Hispanic name.

Susan greeted Charlie as he climbed out of his car. “Hi, honey!” She planted a big kiss on his cheek and added, “I’m so proud of you for what you’re doing for DD and those kids!”

“Oh, and what’s that?” Charlie said even though he knew and dreaded the answer. Meeting with Coach Estrada sealed his fate.

The information was coming to him a little bit at a time. Gus Dusenberry had learned that his “mission” was because of a prayer and that the person who had prayed was someone he knew. That was the gist of his information.

Gus had already gone “down” a couple of times. Each visit was short and confusing. He remembered suddenly showing up on a baseball field. The angel had warned him that it would take a few visits for him to get used to being away from “up” here. She had been right. It was a bit strange to suddenly show up somewhere and not know why he was there. However, the angel was also right about something else…he would feel better every time he went “down.”

Word was that Gus was going “down” again very soon and that he would finally get some answers as to why. Gus felt anxious about his “mission.” He never thought he could be the answer to someone’s prayer.

DD bounded out of bed even though he could have slept longer. No school today! It was Saturday and there was baseball practice in a couple of hours. The first practice for his dad. DD felt he had to be ready to help him. Sure, Coach Estrada had written down the practice routines and suggested positions for each of the kids, but DD knew his dad might struggle with his new responsibilities. Also, there were only two practice days left before Tuesday’s opener versus the Red Sox. There was much to do.

PG. 38 TGACD R. ZEIS

Charlie Dusenberry was out of bed long before his son even though it was a sleep-in Saturday. He was nervous. Today he was going to be in a different type of classroom. Sure, it still featured eleven and twelve-year-olds, but he was going to teach a subject he was not in love with. That’s not to mention it was a subject he was far from mastering. Today, Charlie was a baseball coach. Holy cow!

Susan knew her husband was facing a task he was not fond of facing, so she prepared the boys’ favorite breakfast-pancakes. DD wolfed his breakfast down while Charlie took his time. “It’s not your last meal,” Susan kidded her husband. Charlie smiled at her, but she could tell it was a forced smile.

Two hours later the Dusenberry boys left home for the short drive to the baseball field. Most of the team was already there with a few of them tossing a ball around. All activity came to a halt when Charlie and DD dumped the equipment bag near the entrance to the dugout.

“OK, guys, gather around,” Charlie said.

DD, standing close to his father, leaned nearer him and whispered, “Coach Estrada would always ask us to take a knee.”

Charlie nodded and added, “Everybody take a knee.

With the team kneeled in front of Charlie, and several parents close by, Charlie asked, “Is everybody here?”

“Not yet, Mr. Dusenberry,” offered “Skinny” Mickelson. And to prove his point he nodded his head in the direction of left field. Two players were racing towards them. As they got closer you could hear the verbal exchange between them.

“Look! We’re late because of you!”

“Hey, it wasn’t my fault you couldn’t find anything you liked for breakfast!”

“That’s because you ate MY cereal!”

“It wasn’t YOUR cereal! You can’t own cereal!”

Charlie was thus introduced to the Helmuth twins. According to the notes Estrada had given him this behavior was a common occurrence. The two boys finally reached the gathered team and after one more nasty look at each other, they took a knee in front of their new coach.

“Now that everyone is here,” began Charlie, “let me introduce myself. I’m going to be your coach for at least a while. I’m DD’s father. You may recognize me from being at his games last season.”

PG. 39 YGACD R. ZEIS

“That wasn’t very often!” This comment was thrown from one of the parents who were sitting in the stands behind home plate.

The comment stung Charlie badly. The children gathered in front of him didn’t say anything, but could tell it hurt him. What made the comment so hurtful was that it was true.

Resisting the urge to face the parent, Charlie chose to ignore the hurtful comment. “Coach Estrada tells me we have some talented ballplayers here. We’ll work together to be the best we can be.”

“This isn’t the Army!” Once again the same parent added his opinion…loudly.

This time Charlie decided to locate the source of the criticism. Walking over to the fence in front of the stands where the parents were gathered he took a deep breath to calm down. It wouldn’t help to start things off being belligerent. “Parents, if you could please hold your comments until we can meet face-to-face after practice.” In response, a tall, black man stood up and said, “I look forward to it.” Charlie realized this was the source of the hurtful comments. This was one more thing to look forward to.

Turning from the parents, Charlie walked back to his team. “OK, let’s do some fielding practice.”

Estrada had assured Charlie that the kids knew what positions they would play this season. That appeared to be the case as each player ran onto the field. They grouped in the outfield and infield.

DD ran up to his father and handed him a bat and ball. “Here you go, Dad. I’ll catch for you.”

Reaching for the bat and ball from his son, Charlie’s mind suddenly flashed back many years. He remembered being very small and standing on a field that looked so very big. Pain flared in his stomach as he remembered how his coaches had struggled to find a position for him to play. He later came to realize they were actually struggling to find a spot to “hide” him.

“Dad…”

Charlie snapped back to the present. “Yes, DD?”

“You have to hit the ball to each position,” DD offered. “You ready?”

Charlie looked down at his son. “Sure.” It was a lie, of course. How could he be ready? The little boy who coaches wanted to “hide,” was now the coach. HE was supposed to be the judge of these youngsters. All he could do was shake his head in irony.

PG. 40 TGACD R. ZEIS

“We usually start with ‘get one,’” offered DD.

“Get one!” yelled Charlie. Looking down the third baseline at Jason Helmuth, Charlie tossed the ball in the air.

SWISH. Charlie swung and missed. Apparently his baseball skills hadn’t improved over the years.

SWISH.

SWISH,

“HA!” came from the stands. Charlie knew the source of the laugh was from his new, “favorite” parent.

Turning beet red with embarrassment Charlie stood still as the team stared at him. This was exactly what Charlie had feared. He was letting his son down. He was once again the little leaguer who had let his father down.

“It’s OK, Dad. You can do it,” DD said quietly. DD was holding the baseball up to his father.

Dropping the bat, Charlie took the ball from his son. There was only one way to go. “Get one,” yelled Charlie. Ignoring the bat the newest coach in little league threw the ball on two bounces to the third baseman. The ball rolled between the legs of Jason Helmuth into left field.

“Was that for me?” yelled Jason.

“Who do you think that was for?” screamed his brother Jack. “You are the worst third baseman in history!”

At that, Jason charged his brother and the two of them once again went at it nose to nose.

“Coach Estrada tried to warn you about them,” DD said.

“Consider myself fully informed.” It took a few minutes to break the two arguing youngsters apart and restore order. Charlie started over, “Get one!”

And so the first practice day of Coach Charlie Dusenberry came and went.

That night the new coach would remember some of the “highlights” of this first day.

*Tommy Waldrip covered his head with his glove when a fly ball came his way.

PG. 41 TGACD R. ZEIS

*The Helmuth twins missed less grounders than they did arguments with each other.

*Willow Spencer refused to slide because she might get dirty.

*More than once he had to tell Cleon Jones to remove his ear buds and pay attention.

*And, Wally Wilson, the 250-pound twelve-year-old who found it hard to swing because as he told his coach, “I’m too big!”

Even with all the bad, Charlie had to admit there were some bright spots. Of course, there was DD who worked so hard to help his father. Also, DD’s friend, Grego hustled and proved that he knew his way around a baseball field.

With only one practice to go before the season opener, Charlie still had to figure out several of his players’ abilities. Those players included Skinny Mickelson, Chris “The Beast” Harper, and Mohammad Ator.

Charlie was grateful the next day was Sunday, a day off from baseball. His arm was killing him. He must have thrown two hundred ground and fly balls that day. Taking an extra, long, hot shower, Charlie hoped some of the aches and pains would go away. Too bad the shower wouldn’t wash away his fears too.

“So, this is why I’m here?” questioned Gus Dusenberry. No one had paid attention to him that morning as he witnessed his son’s embarrassing practice. He was left alone in the stands after all the parents and players had gone home. Gus sat for quite a while in the empty stands pondering what he was supposed to do. While he was thrilled to see his grandson, DD, play baseball, he was not too thrilled to witness the lack of ability his son, Charlie, had demonstrated... again.

The now familiar fog began to form near the pitcher’s mound. Gus slowly walked towards it and then entered its comforting coolness. As he began his journey “up,” Gus thought he would have to visit with that angel again. He needed some clarification as to what he could possibly do to help his son and grandson. “Heck,” he said to himself. “I’m no angel.”

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