I got question after question about my black eye from customers at the Toolbox. Finally, I adopted a specific stump speech about the incident saying, “Well, you always thought I was a tough guy, didn’t you? If you think this looks bad, you should see the other guy.”

It was one of my biggest tip nights. I wondered If I was getting a sympathy vote because of the black eye. One guy told me, “You look even sexier Blake. A gay man that’s tough. Now that is outstanding.”

I made a doctor’s appointment for early the next morning just to make sure that nothing was seriously injured. Before I left the house, I glanced at the three vintage softballs still lined up on the coffee table and smiled.

With a quick inspection of my facial bones and pressing his fingers against the bruised spots around my eye, the doctor didn’t think x-rays were necessary. He said, “I do suggest that you stay out of fights. It’s so easy to endure a freak injury that can cause permanent damage.” I sighed realizing I knew a thing or two about freak injuries.

As I pulled on my shirt and slipped off the table, I said, “Believe me, Doc, I’m not planning on any more fights.”

I had lunch downtown, and then I spent the rest of the afternoon on or near the beach. I knew that softball practice was in the evening unless they changed something while I was gone. Instead of contacting Ian ahead, I decided that I would just show up at the field. Even if they replaced me, and I couldn’t be on the team anymore, I wanted to see all of the guys. I really missed them.

I was relieved to see at least half the team was already on the field for practice when I pulled up. I got out of the car, slipped my glove on my hand, and did my best to walk up to the field without causing any uproar.

Antonio spotted me first, and I knew that my attempts at a quiet arrival were over. He squealed and called out, “Blake! Our hero is back!” He ran across the field and collided with the gate when he couldn’t pull it open at first. I watched him fumble with the lock and kept walking in his direction.

Antonio practically leapt into my arms. He asked, “Is it really you?”

I laughed and said, “It’s really me, Antonio. Do you think the guys will let me come back?”

“Let you?” he asked. “Oh my God, Blake, we need you!”

Reggie walked up next and he gave me a sly smile saying, “Welcome back, stranger.”

“Where’s Ian?” I asked.

Reggie pointed toward the outfield, and I finally spotted Ian far away discussing something with Billy and pointing at the outfield foul line.

I said, “I guess I’d better ask the manager if I can come back.”

I jogged across the rest of the infield and heard a few of my teammates break into spontaneous applause. When that started, both Ian and Billy looked in my direction. As I approached, I could see a smile on Ian’s face.

Billy spoke first saying, “It’s a good thing we won while you were gone. Did you enjoy your vacation?”

I said, “Believe it or not, I missed you Billy.”

“Awww, I’m flattered,” he said.

I reached my arms out and grabbed Billy for a hug while I looked at Ian. To my surprise, Billy gave me a warm hug back. I said, “We’re going to win by even more now.”

Ian didn’t wait for me to offer him an individual hug. Instead he hugged both of us at the same time. Then Billy said, “Okay, that’s enough of the lovey stuff. Let’s get to some softball.”

As we started to slowly jog back toward the infield, Ian asked, “Are you really back?”

I nodded and said, “I’m really back, and I won’t leave again. I learn from my mistakes.”

The rest of the team gathered around when we reached the infield. Ian raised his hands for everyone to quiet down. He said, “I think I need to ask this before we go any further, but I hope I know the answer.”

I looked around, and I saw smiles on all of the faces.

Ian asked, “Is everyone okay with Blake returning for the rest of the season and taking his usual spot at third base?”

The roar began before Ian finished his words. A single tear welled up in the corner of my right eye and rolled down my cheek. I was welcomed back to the Soft Serves with open arms. Now I just needed to prove that I was still as good of a player as I was before I left.

Ian took us through drills charging ground balls on the infield and catching fly balls in the outfield. He put Billy on the bases to run and then scattered hit balls around to have us try and throw him out.

Finally, he kicked off batting practice. As I watched Lowell and Marshall and Antonio come up to bat, I could see marked improvement from when I was last with the team. Everyone was rid of the rustiness of the off-season and they were playing quality softball.

I stepped up to the plate slightly intimidated by the quality hitting of my teammates. Ian said, “I’ll go easy on you, Blake. We all know you’ve been hitting that smaller ball. It’s about time for you to graduate to the big ball and the sport of kings.”

I laughed out loud, and I tried to concentrate on the bat and the ball. I dug in and watched that slow, loping arc. It was so different from the baseball. I pulled the bat off my shoulder, and then I pulled the trigger and swung too soon. I growled when I missed the ball entirely. I could hear a sigh rise from my teammates.

Loud enough for everyone to hear, I said, “Okay, this is the one. This will be into the outfield at least.”

Ian grinned and threw the ball toward home plate. I held back and at the last minute pulled the string and swung at it. I connected firmly with the ball, and I sent it far into the outfield. Our practice field didn’t have a standard fence, but everyone knew that my hit would have been a home run in the field where we played against other teams.

Antonio surged forward first, and soon I was mobbed by the entire team, including Billy Alvey. His deep voice was heard above the rest when he said, “This is where we kick off the rest of our winning season.”