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Griffin

Seven months later…

“Go! Run! Go, go, go!” Danae jumps to her feet, screaming and clapping. I stand up next to her, yelling similar encouragement as we watch Jason run to first base. The ball flies over the first baseman’s head, and the coach yells for Jason to run to second. By the time the kid at first base has recovered the ball, Jason is already rounding third, determined to make it home.

“No, no, go back to third!” Danae screams as I yell, “Pick up the pace! Sprint home!”

Danae clutches my arm as we watch Jason dramatically slide home. Which turned out to be wildly unnecessary, considering the ball sailed past the catcher and never came close to getting Jason out. Which is pretty much expected for a bunch of kids playing rec baseball for the first time.

Jason jumps up and fist pumps the air, looking over to the stands where Danae and I are jumping and celebrating. He gets high fives from his teammates, and I shoot him a double thumbs up.

As we sit down, Danae blows out a breath. “Nothing like a single-turned-home-run thanks to two errors,” she says.

Grinning, I wrap my arm around her neck and pull her forehead to my lips. “Look at you and all this baseball lingo,” I tease.

She rolls her eyes but presses a quick kiss to my cheek. “Only for that cute little redhead out there.”

“Are you forgetting that we arenotsupposed to use the word ‘cute’ to describe him anymore? Not now that he’s eleven years old and nearly finished with elementary school?” I chide.

Danae waves a hand in the air. “I’m his mom. I get to call him cute as long as I want to.”

Although it took some convincing to get Danae to sign Jason up to play baseball this spring, she’s all in now that she sees how happy it’s made him. It’s been good for him to develop some new friendships outside of school and have an activity to look forward to. We’re working on convincing her to let him try out for a slightly more competitive team next fall, but this has been a good first experience for Jason.

When the game ends, Danae passes out sports drinks and snacks, since it was our turn on the snack sign-up. Jason’s team is used to my presence by now, but a few families of the opposing team come up to ask for photos and autographs. I can hear Jason dissecting the game for Danae as they wait at the side of the field, and I can’t help but smile at how lucky I am that this is my life.

When I join them, I wrap an arm around Danae’s shoulders as we walk to the parking lot. “You’ll need to hustle to get changed if we’re going to make it before the game starts,” I tell Jason.

“More baseball, yayyy,” Danae says, voice laced with smiling sarcasm.

Several hours later, we’re sitting in the stands of the Crowns stadium, cheering for Adrian as he steps up to bat. “You taking notes to share with the coaching staff or something?” I ask Jason, gesturing to the small notebook in his hands.

“Naw, I thought I’d better start keeping better track of the games for the podcast so you don’t get confused about what happened in which game,” Jason says. “You forget sometimes.”

“You calling me old?” I tease, swatting the brim of Jason’s baseball cap.

“Last week you thought Ortiz’s home run was in game three when it was in game two!” Jason exclaims, looking indignant.

“All right, all right, I see your point,” I say, then stand up to clap as Adrian makes it safely to first. Jason cheers along with me, then marks a note down.

The podcast is an organic thing that may or may not continue for the long term. Although I’m completely at peace with my decision to retire, I haven’t figured out exactly what I want todoas my second career. So far, past investments along with continued endorsement and speaking opportunities have more than paid the bills.

When spring training started up, Jason and I began recording an audio-only podcast breaking down the Crowns’ games just for fun. As it turns out, a lot of people in the country get a kick out of listening to the commentary of a former player and a fiery kid with an uncanny knowledge of the game. We started breaking down major games across the MLB teams each week but maintained our obvious favoritism for talking about the Crowns.

As listens skyrocketed and sponsors came knocking, we set up a foundation that will cover the costs to provide free therapy for kids with experience in the foster care system. Whether they’re being reunified with their biological families, joining new adoptive families, or aging out of the system—they all deserve help processing their experiences.

Danae is still working as a librarian and has zero interest in sports podcasting. With Sam happily pursuing her cosmetology career, that means I’m going to have to look into hiring an administrative assistant for the podcast. Turns out, I still don’t enjoy doing all those tasks Sam used to do—tasks that are rapidly multiplying as our reach continues to grow.

As the music starts for the seventh-inning stretch, I yank the Kindle out of Danae’s hands.

“Hey!” she yells. “Don’t swipe the screen and lose my spot!”

“It’s time to stand and sing with us,” I say, falsely serious. I hook my hand under her elbow and playfully pull her to her feet. “Come on.”

She half-heartedly sways along with us and promptly holds out her hand when the song ends, demanding her Kindle back. She gives me a coy smile and a kiss on the cheek when I hand it over. As Danae plops back down into her seat, I look over at Jason and wink.

Little does she know that I’m not taking them straight to their townhouse after the game. She’s completely clueless about the surprise waiting for her on my back patio. A surprise including elaborateflowers and candles set up by Sam, a very special sign made by Jason, and a very sparkly diamond chosen by me.

I sit down and wrap my arm around her shoulders. When she looks up at me, I capture her lips in a kiss. Raising a hand to her cheek, I hold her in the kiss a moment longer than “quick.” Tracing my thumb down her jaw when I pull away, I watch her lips turn up in a smile.