The GHOST and Charlie Dusenberry
Chapter Sixteen: Game Day

PG. 55 TGACD R. ZEIS

CHAPTER FIFTEEN: GAME DAY

Tuesday morning dawned with not a hint of rain in the forecast. No rain, no rained out baseball game. Charlie smiled thinly at himself in the mirror as he shaved.

No rain.

No ghost of his dad either. He was really beginning to think he had imagined the whole thing. It must be the stress of this little league coach business. It was just as well that he hadn’t mentioned Gus to Susan or DD. They might have committed him.

DD liked to ride the school bus with his friends, so Charlie rode to work alone each morning. As usual, Charlie listened to his car radio and he noticed there were no stories about baseball this time. Things back to normal? Was this a good thing Charlie wondered? Had a miracle in the form of his father occurred? Miracles were good things, right? So much on his mind lately…

BEEP!

Charlie jumped at the loud car horn from behind him. He had stopped at an intersection and apparently had zoned out. The irate driver had brought him back to the here and now. Waving his hand to the rearview mirror as an apology gesture, Charlie moved through the intersection.

The day at school proved mostly uneventful. It was test day over the major rivers of the world and Charlie was able to enjoy quiet classrooms. It gave him a chance to catch up on paperwork while his students worked their way through the exams.

“Excuse me, Mr. Dusenberry.”

Gretchen Anderson stood in front of the desk. “Here’s my test, I think I did very well,” she whispered.

“Well, Gretchen,” smiled Charlie, “I hope you are right.” He took her test and placed it on the pile of other completed exams.

“Good luck today,” offered the little girl.

“What for, young lady?”

Gretchen leaned closer and speaking even lower said, “You’re coaching the Yankees and DD is on the team, right?”

PG. 56 TGACD R. ZEIS

“That’s right, Gretchen.” Charlie wondered where this conversation was going.

“Well,” she began, “The word around school is that you play against the Red Sox today and Zeph will be pitching.” Her face soured when she mentioned Zeph’s name, “He can really hum that ’ol tomato.”

“Where did you get all this baseball jargon, Gretchen?”

“Just because I’m a girl doesn’t mean I don’t know anything about baseball!” countered Gretchen. Her red hair seemed to glow with indignation.

“Of course, Gretchen. I’m sorry,” said Charlie who could not wipe the smile off his face. “Anything else?”

“Yes…Zeph is going around telling everybody that he’s gonna kick your team’s butt!”

That piece of news didn’t surprise Charlie one bit. “Thanks for the info, Gretchen. Why don’t you go back to your seat?”

“OK, Mr. Dusenberry,” she said as she turned away from him. Then, she stopped and leaned in towards her teacher again. “I hope you win and I like DD very much.”

“Thanks, Gretchen. I can use all the support I can get.” He decided not to say anything about her liking DD. He thought that was something that needed to be kept between DD and Gretchen. Flashing one of best smiles, Gretchen retreated back down the isle and took her seat.

After a few minutes, Charlie stood up and decided to walk around the room to see how much progress his students were making on the exam. A few had finished and Charlie picked up their papers and then told them to read while the rest of the class worked. He was about to return to his desk when he made eye contact with Zeph. Zeph looked even bigger today for some reason as he filled his chair.

The boy gave a crooked smile at his teacher and then pretended to throw a pitch. He mouthed, “The Zepher!”

The weather was perfect for baseball. Time for the game was six o’clock and it gave time for most of the parents to make it to the field for the first pitch. Since it was opening day it appeared many of the parents left work early as the stands seemed to be filled.

Charlie and DD arrived around 5:30. The rest of the Yankees came in dribs and drabs and then began their warmups. It looked to Charlie that everyone would be there.

PG. 57 TGACD R. ZEIS

“Hey, coach!” came a booming voice from the stands.

Charlie knew who it was before he even turned to respond. Cleon Jones’ father was the parent who found no problem voicing his opinions at practice. Now, it seemed the advice would be offered at games too.

“Yes, Mr. Jones.”

The parent stood with his face against the fence behind the dugout. “You need to take charge out there,” as he nodded towards the field. “The kids need a good warmup routine. It looks like they don’t know what they’re doing!”

“Thanks for the advice, Mr. Jones. I’ll see what I can do.”

Jones glared at Charlie and then sat down and didn’t look too happy with the response.

Charlie wondered how many parents agreed with Jones. He looked at the field and watched as his team tossed around the baseballs. Some took warmup swings with bats. It looked OK to him. Maybe it’s best not to second guess himself right now. He had other worries.

On the other side of the field, the Red Sox were lined up along the first baseline and were being led in exercises by a coach. They looked pretty good thought, Charlie.

“That’s how a team is supposed to warm up,” added Mr. Jones.

Charlie took another glance at Jones and then walked onto the field. There he was met by DD. He knew what his son was about to ask him.

“Dad, I think my arm is OK to pitch.” Charlie looked down at his son. DD had a pleading look on his face. The youngster looked good in his Yankee uniform that sported blue socks, gray pants, a blue jersey with the NY team logo on it. It was topped off by the familiar Yankee cap with the NY on it.

DD continued, “Dad, I know my arm hurt a little after practice yesterday, but it’ll be OK. I need to pitch! It’s opening day and we’re facing the Red Sox!”

“No, DD,” was his father’s response. “We have another game Saturday and you can pitch then. Let your arm heal.”

“But, it’s the Red Sox,” DD continued. “Zeph is pitching against us and he doesn’t give up many runs.” After a brief pause where DD once again gave his best hangdog look. “Please.”

PG. 58 TGACD R. ZEIS

Charlie felt for his son. He loved this game and he had to thank Gus for that. “I’m sorry, son. Skinny will pitch for us today. You’re his catcher. Take care of him.”

“OK, Dad.” DD stood still another second and Charlie wondered if he was going to make another plea, but he didn’t. Instead, he ran over to Skinny and the two began to talk.

With that apparently settled, Charlie looked to find his wife. The night before, DD had given a crash course to his parents on how to use the team’s scorebook, Susan had volunteered to keep score and help her husband stay on top of the line-up.

“I’m here!”

Charlie found his wife in the dugout busily going over the line-up book. “Thank God you’re here,” said Charlie with a grateful smile. Susan returned his smile and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek.

“I’ve got this.”

Susan reviewed the starting line-up with her husband and went over when substitutes should enter the game. Their conversation was interrupted by the crackling speaker over their heads.

“Welcome,” began the PA announcer. “Welcome to our little league opening day game between the Yankees and Red Sox!” The gathered families gave polite applause while the players literally vibrated with excitement.

“This is it!”

“Yaa Hoooo!”

Some of the parents on both sides of the diamond started cheering for their teams as chants of “let’s go Red Sox” and “let’s go Yankees” rose and died.

“Please stand for our National Anthem,” boomed the announcer’s voice.

Dutifully everyone stood and most people placed their hands over their hearts as a recorded Anthem was played. When it ended there was a loud cheer and everyone settled back to their seats. The Yankees streamed into the dugout and found places on the long, weathered bench. After a moment all eyes turned to their manager.

Charlie stared back at them while his insides began that all too familiar pain. Charlie wished he was anywhere but here. The battle that raged inside Charlie was almost too much to handle. On one side was the fear of letting the kids down….and on the other was his responsibility to these youngsters.

PG. 59 TGACD R. ZEIS

“Coach? It’s game time,” Mitzi Wright broke the awkward silence. “What’s up?”

Refocusing, Charlie tried to remember his pre-game pep talk that he had practiced the night before. The words had been lost. All he could do was shoot from the hip.

“It’s our first game,” he began. “You’ve practiced hard and now it’s time to see what we can do. Good luck!”

“Some speech!” Mr. Jones stated. Charlie saw that Jones had pressed himself up against the fence behind the dugout. Jones turned to the rest of the Yankees’ parents in the stands. “He’s a real motivator isn’t he?” Some of the parents looked embarrassed while some actually nodded agreement.

Charlie thought about saying something but decided not to. It might just make things worse. Susan saved the day by loudly reading the batting order. The Yankees would bat first.

“Mitzi you’re up. Jason, you’re up second.”

DD walked over to his mom, “The next person up is always ‘on deck.’”

“On deck, got it,” said Susan.

As Susan went over the Yankees’ batting order and defensive line-up, the Red Sox ran onto the field. All two hundred pounds of meanness, better known as Zeph Yarnell, rolled out to the pitcher’s mound. He took several warm-up pitches. Each pitch slammed into the catcher’s mitt. “I’m ready for these guys! Let’s get going!” Zeph yelled. The catcher tossed the ball back to Zeph who then stood there with his hands on his hips looking impatient to start the game.

The Red Sox looked just as good as the Yankees did in their new uniforms. The Sox sported bright red jerseys with the words ‘Red Sox’ across the front. White pants gleamed in the bright sun.

Mitzi, a left-handed batter, strolled to the plate and took a couple of warm-up swings. As she settled into the batter’s box the catcher, Sam Green, greeted her with, “Hello, Mitzi. We’re gonna strike you out on three pitches.”

“Sam,” responded Mitzi, “What we’re going to know is that you are a jerk!”

“OK, you two,” prodded the umpire. “Settle down.” The ump, John Dalton, sold insurance to many of the parents sitting in the stands. He expected some fireworks on opening day. There were ALWAYS fireworks on opening day. John would not be proven wrong.

“Play ball!” shouted the ump.

PG. 60 TGACD R. ZEIS

A smile spread across Zeph’s face as he heard those words from the ump. It was time for him to show his stuff. Without looking to his catcher for a sign as to what type of pitch to throw, Zeph rotated his right arm in an exaggerated counter-clockwise motion. After several spins, he fired the first pitch of the season….right at Mitzi’s head.

Mitzi fell straight back and landed on her backside as the ball hummed over the catcher’s and ump’s heads. It slammed into the metal fence with a loud bang.

Everyone reacted to the throw. Charlie jumped a foot. Susan let out a yelp. The Yankees on the bench started yelling at Zeph. Parents in the stands either yelled sympathy for Mitzi and or were stunned by how close the ball had come to her head.

Recovering a bit, Charlie trotted over to Mitzi who was getting off the ground and brushing the dirt from her uniform. “You OK?” asked Charlie.

“Sure, coach. I think he did that on purpose!”

“I think you’re probably right,” With that said, Charlie turned to look at Zeph who stood on the pitcher’s mound with a big smile on his face. “Zeph, cut that out!”

“Hey, you can’t talk to my player like that!” screamed the Red Sox manager. Tim Blanda, one of the town’s sanitation workers who sponsored the Sox, ran to home plate to confront Charlie.

“This is the first game! Some pitchers are going to be a little wild at first,” said Blanda. “You take care of your kids and I’ll take care of mine!”

Dalton stepped between the two men. “Easy does it, gentlemen.”

“Ump, I want you to keep an eye on that guy,” said Charlie as he gestured out to Zeph.

“Hey, I told you to mind your own business!” seethed Blanda as he took a step towards Charlie.

“When it comes to my kids’ safety, it is my business.” Both men glared at one another before they backed off and returned to their respective dugouts.

“Way to go, honey,” said Susan.

“You’re not going to let him get away with that?” yelled Jones from the stands. “Do something!”

Before Charlie could say anything, John Dalton yelled through the fence, “Everyone calm down! I’ve got this.”

PG. 61 TGACD R. ZEIS

“Well, you better!” responded an irate Mr. Jones.

“Do you really think the pitcher intentionally threw at Mitzi?” asked Susan of her husband.

“It’s very possible, honey. It’s very possible.” Charlie hung his head down. “All this after just one pitch.”

Mitzi finally was able to get into the batter’s box. Looking down at the smiling catcher she told him, “One day he’s going to pay for that.”

“I doubt that,” responded the boy.

As Mitzi got ready, Susan turned to the parents and yelled, “How about a little support here!” To her relief, some of the parents started clapping and hollering for Mitzi to hang in there. Charlie looked gratefully at his wife. It was nice to know she had his back.

Zeph Yarnell began his wild wind-up again and the next pitch was a crackling strike on the outside corner of the plate leveling the count at one ball and one strike. The third pitch was attacked by a vicious swing that turned Mitzi around almost 360-degrees.

“Strike two!” informed the ump.

“Thanks for the cool breeze, Mitzi,” said the catcher.

“Shut up,” whispered Mitzi. “Let’s see that pitch again.”

“OK, you asked for it.”

The next pitch came in a little high, but it was close enough for Mitzi to take another mighty swing that Babe Ruth would have admired. But she missed.

“Strike three!”

Red Sox players and parents let out a whoop and Sam fired the ball to the third baseman who threw the ball around the infield before returning the ball to Zeph. Mitzi, holding her head high, walked slowly back to her dugout. Slamming the bat to the ground, Mitzi found a vacant spot on the bench. “They are such jerks!”

DD and Grego came up to Mitzi and patted her on the shoulder and gave her the “good tries” comfort. Other players said something different.

“Is he as fast as he looks?” asked Beast.

“Boy, you’re lucky he didn’t hit you,” added Mohamed.

PG. 62 TGACD R. ZEIS

All Mitzi would say is, “Nuts.”

The next batter, Jason Helmuth, took three straight pitches for strikes. His bat never left his shoulder. On the way back to the dugout he was stopped by DD who was in the on-deck circle.

“Jason, you gotta swing the bat.”

“Swing?” said Jason with a look of wonder on his face. “You gotta SEE the ball to swing at it. All I heard was it whizzing by me!”

After watching Jason mope back to his team’s dugout, DD put on his “player’s face” and walked to the right-handed batter’s box. With two outs the young Dusenberry dug his foot into the brown dirt and then stared out to the pitcher’s mound. DD had face Zeph many times in his young little league career. He knew what to expect.

Out on the mound, Zeph looked at the new hitter. As much as he hated to admit it, Dusenberry was a good player and was not much impressed with his speed or his “Zepher.” Dusenberry had gotten some good licks against him in the past.

The smile on Zeph’s face was now replaced by a determined look. He began his wind-up and let loose a screamer that just missed the outside corner of home plate.

“Ball one!” offered John Dalton.

DD thought to himself that Zeph would try to keep the ball outside again. Moving his hands all the way down to the end of the bat, DD felt it would help him reach across the plate and guard against that outside pitch.

The strategy at first appeared to work. Zeph let loose another pitch that tried to catch that outside corner. But, DD was ready for it. With a nice smooth swing, the ball was met by DD’s bat with a nice loud CRACK!

DD’s teammates and parents in the stands let out an excited yell as the ball rocketed to the right-center of the outfield. DD raced towards first base confident the ball would fall between the center and right fielders.

But Zeph was not the only good player on the Red Sox. Their center fielder, Jackson Brown, resembled a red streak as he raced to the ball. A loud groan erupted from Yankee fans and players as Jackson made a nice back-handed snare of DD’s fly ball.

“Three out!” concluded the ump.

A disappointed DD stood by first base as he watched the Red Sox leave the field in glee.

PG. 63 TGACD R. ZEIS

“Nice try, Dusenberry,” smirked Zeph as he walked by DD on the way to his dugout.

DD gave Zeph his best ‘there will be another time’ look. He also thought that Mitzi was right. Zeph is a jerk.

Charlie’s emotions had run wild as he watched his son bat. First, there was tension as DD took the first pitch. Then there was elation as he watched DD’s hit soar into the outfield. Finally, there was the heart-wrenching disappointment when the speedy Red Sox outfielder caught up to the ball. Charlie felt an ulcer might be in his near future.

The fans were finally settling into their seats and Cleon Jones’ dad had started to bad mouth Charlie again when he thought he saw some sort of mist, or fog, waft over the stands from behind them. One of the parents thought he saw a bright flash of some sort too. But both parents couldn’t find what caused these things. It was soon forgotten.

Gus Dusenberry found he was back at the same little league field again. This time there was a game on. He found a seat next to Mr. Jones. “I just got here,” Gus said to Jones. “Fill me in on what I missed.” As Jones did so, Gus focused on his son who looked unhappy. Gus learned quickly why his son was unhappy. He was coaching! Charlie was coaching?

DD had trotted back to his dugout just in time to hear his mom shout out instructions. “OK, Yankees! DD is catching. Mickelson pitching. Carter first base. Jack shortstop. Jason third base. Mohammad second base. Jones left field. Wilson right field and Mitzi center field.”

The Yankees ran out to their defensive positions as Skinny took his warmup tosses from the mound. “Well, here we go,” Charlie whispered to his wife.

“Do you have everybody where they’re supposed to be?” asked Susan.

“God knows, honey,” replied Charlie. “I tried to follow Estrada’s and DD’s advice.”

DD was on the pitcher’s mound talking to Skinny who kept nodding his understanding of what his catcher was saying. After a minute, DD ran to his position behind home plate. Then the show began.

To say that Skinny’s windup was interesting would be a gross understatement. The eleven-year-old left-hander would begin his routine by facing the catcher. Then, while rocking both arms backward and looking down at the ground, Skinny would turn sideways, look at first base, and then finally throw the ball.

Parents of both teams fell silent for a moment before the chattering began.

“Wow, look at that!”

PG. 64 TGACD R.ZEIS

“Where do you think he learned that?”

Mr. Jones contributed, “From Dusenberry probably.”

Gus knew his son could not have taught the pitcher that because he didn’t know how to coach. The pieces of his “assignment” were beginning to fall into place at last. It would probably take a miracle to teach his son anything about playing…now coaching…baseball.

Susan turned to her husband as they entered the nearly empty dugout. “Is he supposed to do all that?”

“I guess so. Look, I’m just following what Estrada told me.” Charlie’s look of frustration was enough so that Susan didn’t ask any more questions.

Meanwhile, Skinny was throwing his warm-up pitches into the dirt and kept DD very busy. “Skinny,” he yelled. “Concentrate on throwing to my glove!”

Skinny just shook his head but continued firing pitches anywhere but near the plate. One time, however, Skinny slipped on the mound and then fired a bullet straight down the middle of the plate. It boomed into DD’s glove causing the catcher to yell, “Way to go!”

With the end of warm-ups, the first Red Sox batter came to the plate. Eight pitches later that batter and the one that followed had both walked and now occupied first and second base. Following the second walk, DD stood by home plate and looked pleadingly at his father.

Susan nudged Charlie in the ribs, “I think DD wants you to talk to Billy.”

“Yeah, I guess he does,” answered Charlie. “I’ll go out there and solve all his problems.”

“Honey, please don’t be sarcastic.”

“Yes, dear.”

Charlie asked for time out from the umpire and walked out to the pitcher’s mound where DD joined him and Skinny.

“Billy, what’s up?”

“Coach, you can call me Skinny.”

“OK, Skinny, what’s the problem?”

“Coach, I can’t find the plate. I try, but the ball won’t go where I want it to.”

Charlie put his hand on Skinny’s shoulder and turned him towards the plate. He raised his right arm and pointed at it. “There it is Skinny. It’s only 47 feet away.”

PG. 65 TGACD R. ZEIS

“That’s not very funny, Coach.”

“Well, Skinny, walking everybody is not going to be very funny either. Is it?”

Skinny looked down at the ground and kicked some dirt. “No, coach. It’s not funny.”

“OK then. Throw the ball to DD.” While Skinny turned away, DD told his father, “Dad, that was pretty mean.”

“Sorry, DD. That’s about the best I can do.”

DD locked eyes with his father and the look told Charlie his son was shocked at his behavior. DD had never known his father to be mean…to anybody.

Charlie knew it was not his finest hour, but he was befuddled as to what to do. He headed back to his dugout where Susan was waiting for him. “Everything OK with Skinny?”

“I don’t think so,” admitted her husband.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean I don’t know what to say to an eleven-year-old who is having trouble throwing a baseball.” He turned to face his wife. “That’s what I mean.”

Susan, probably for the first time in her life, suddenly knew what kind of a burden had been placed on her husband. Up until now she thought it was a nuisance to him, or just a bad memory from his childhood. Now she realized it was a lot more painful than that. Charlie never had a problem talking to young children…until now.

Following the meeting, Skinny set himself to face another batter. The “pep” talk seemed to work for one pitch and one pitch only. The first toss resulted in a strike. The next four did not find their mark and the walk loaded the bases with no outs.

To make matters worse, the next batter was Zeph Yarnell.

“Hey, Dusenberry,” he said as he got ready to hit. “Do you think your dufus pitcher can put a pitch over the plate so I can smash it? All I need is one good pitch,” he sneered.

“You’re a real class act, Zeph.” Said DD.

Zeph took a couple of hefty swings and waved to his teammates who were hooting and hollering at the prospect of a big hit from their star player. DD pounded his glove and yelled out, “Let’s go, Skinny!”

PG. 66 TGACD R. ZEIS

Skinny put his right foot on the rubber and paused. He listened to the yells of the Red Sox and the cries of support from his teammates. So much was riding on what he did next. Skinny knew the Yankees were short on pitchers. His dad told him this was a golden opportunity for him to make his mark. Heck, he was left-handed and left-handed pitchers were very valuable. Skinny would rather play in the outfield, but he listened to his father and pitched last season. He was awful, but his dad told him to stick with it. Things would change. Well, now here he was with the bases loaded and he was about to throw to the best player in the league. Things had not changed enough.

“Hey, Dusenberry, what’s wrong with your pitcher? Is he scared?”

DD once again looked up at Zeph from his crouched position behind home plate, “Zeph,

why don’t you just shut up?”

Zeph just laughed and readied himself as Skinny finally began his wind-up. As Skinny released the ball, DD realized it was the best pitch he had thrown so far. It was coming right down the middle. But, the pitch was too good. Zeph grunted as he swung his bat.

Charlie watched as Zeph’s swing shot the ball high into the air. The three Yankee outfielders didn’t even move as the ball soared high and far to center field. It cleared the outfield fence 200-feet away.

It was a grand slam.

Red Sox fans celebrated as Zeph took his time rounding the bases in a practiced home run trot. As he passed third base he took time to point at Charlie and smile. As Zeph stepped on home plate Charlie noticed Skinny was slowly walking towards his dugout. His head was down and it was clear he was crying.

The troubled boy walked up to Charlie and simply said, “I quit.”

Charlie tried to reach out to the boy, but he pushed him away and walked off the field. Skinny’s dad had come down from the stands and was waiting for him by the field’s gate. Charlie could hear Skinny’s dad trying to console him and convince him to give it another try, but it was obvious the argument wasn’t working. The father looked up from his son and shook his head at Charlie. The two walked together towards the parking lot.

“A fine job of coaching, Dusenberry.” Mr. Jones was still in fine voice.

As Charlie watched the departure of Skinny, he hadn’t noticed that DD, Grego and other players had gathered near him. “Will he come back, coach?’ asked Mohammad.

PG. 67 TGACD R. ZEIS

“I’m afraid not today,” said Charlie. He looked around at the sad faces. They were so young and here they were experiencing a very low point in their lives.

“What do we do, Dad?” asked DD. “Do you want me to pitch now?”

Charlie took one more fleeting glance at the parking lot and caught the Mickelson’s car just leaving. He took a deep breath and then almost said yes to his son’s question.

“No, you’re not pitching today.” The answer came from DD’s mom, “Your father told you your arm needed to rest. Isn’t that right, dear.”

Charlie nodded. “Yeah, that’s right.” He took another deep breath and tried to remember what Estrada had told him to do in a pitching emergency. “Didn’t Coach Estrada say the Grego could throw in a pinch?”

DD and Grego looked at each other and shook their heads. “That’s right, Dad. Is that what you want to do?”

“Yeah, Grego is the new pitcher. DD, go warm him up.”

An hour later the game was over. Charlie felt like the game had lasted ten hours. The 9-0 loss to the Red Sox had burned several memories into his brain. The Yankees had garnered only three hits. DD and Grego each hit a double, and Mitzi, with one of her mighty swings, had dribbled a ball down the third base line. To Charlie’s amazement, she flew to first base to beat the third baseman’s throw.

Those were the good memories. The bad ones included:

*A slowly hit ground ball that rolled to a stop between Jason and Jack Helmuth. The batter got to second base because the two brothers argued over who should have fielded the ball.

*A lazy fly ball to right fielder Tommy Waldrip fell to the ground for a hit because Tommy jumped out of the way in the nick of time.

*And Willow Spencer, after drawing a walk, was picked off first base even though she had a short lead. Grego told Charlie it was because she would have to dive back to the bag to beat the throw from the pitcher. She didn’t want to get dirty.

The game was replayed in Charlie’s mind as he, Susan and DD rode home.

“I want to apologize to both of you for the way I acted today. I’m sorry,” Charlie began.

“We’ll work it out, honey,” soothed his wife.

PG. 68 TGACD R. ZEIS

Charlie reached over to pat his wife’s hand to thank her. DD remained quiet for a while.

“Dad, that’s OK. Besides I’m proud of you.”

“Why is that, DD?”

DD chuckled. “Because you didn’t punch out Mr. Jones!”

Susan started to giggle and Charlie couldn’t help but join in. “Yeah,” he said. “That’s one thing I did right today.”

Gus Dusenberry had watched his son drive away with his family. As the fog started to form again on the now deserted field, Gus decided he needed to talk to his angel about all this. His son knew nothing about coaching little league baseball. If He wanted Gus to fix this it might prove to be an impossible mission.

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