“C’mon, Mr. Vaughan, just come and see him play. Then you can mention him all casual-like when you talk to Coach Helton. He would be perfect. I know he would be. I even promise to bump up my grades if you come this weekend to see him play.”

A smile lit up Shane’s slightly pudgy face as he put in positive words for one of his favorites. I was seated at the desk in my classroom thirty minutes after the final bell of the day. I planned to get some work done, perhaps grading math homework, before heading home, but it wasn’t turning out that way. I said, “Why don’t you just…ahem…bump up your grades anyway, Shane? You’re pretty clearly telling me that you can do better.”

He blushed sheepishly and groaned, “Aww, man.” Shane stuck around after school just to needle me about his choice for the open assistant coach job for the high school baseball team. He knew someone who played on a local softball team, and he was convinced the man would be perfect for the job. Somehow, I got stuck on the selection committee for the new coach, and Shane dug the names of the members of the committee out of Coach Helton, our head baseball coach.

I scratched my head and looked at Shane. “You wouldn’t be trying to blackmail me, would you, Shane? Trying to blackmail me with that promise of harder work?”

Shane said, “Oh, no, no. I’m not doing that at all. I just think Blake deserves a chance. And you know Joey, too, Mr. Vaughan. He would be right here at my side trying to convince you if his mom wasn’t sick.”

I did know Joey. He was a junior and Shane was a sophomore. I had Joey in class the year before during my first year on the job. He was quiet, but he was an excellent student. I even did my best at leaning on him to consider being a math major in college. As one of the top baseball shortstops in the region, he told me he was considering sports medicine, but He agreed that maybe math could be a backup plan. Joey took over the position of man of the house at home when his father skipped town leaving behind a wife and four kids. Joey was the oldest.

Halfway through the previous school year, I volunteered to guide the student group for LGBTQ students and straight allies. Mrs. Ackerman, the former adviser, left our school for a corporate chemistry job halfway through the year. She left behind a void, and she was missed. She was a very strong advocate for the group. Both Joey and Shane were members. I first met Shane at one of the group meetings.

Shane was now on the baseball team, too, but he spent a lot of time on the bench. He was happy just to be on the team with Joey, the love of his young life. The pair were high school sweethearts, and I fully expected them to eventually marry. They appeared to be perfectly matched even though they were only teenagers.

I cocked my head to the side and said, “You’re not trying to set me up for a date are you, Shane? You said it is a gay softball team, right?”

Shane giggled and said, “No, Mr. Vaughan. Blake has a boyfriend. He’s just such a nice guy, and he played in the baseball minor leagues. Joey and I both think he would be great at helping out the team.”

“And why aren’t you trying to drag Coach Helton to one of these softball games?”

Shane leaned over the desk and said, “Well, just between you and me, Mr. Vaughan, Coach can be a little stuffy even though he’s a great coach. He told me that usually the assistant is another teacher, but he also said it doesn’t have to be that way if they find someone really excellent and experienced with baseball.”

I stared eye to eye with Shane and asked, “And what makes you think I really know that much about baseball or softball? Seeing…um, Blake, I think you said…play is going to tell me what?”

“You’re on the committee, Mr. Vaughan, doesn’t that mean you know something about baseball? Softball isn’t very different.”

I laughed and asked, “How many touchdowns do you need to win a baseball game?”

“Wow, Mr. Vaughan, you really don’t know much of anything about baseball.”

I held out my fingers and said, “A smidge.” Then I asked, “Are you dragging Joey to the game, too?”

“He promised to come. It’s the start of the new season, and we love to watch Blake play. He knows us, too, so you could even say hi. You could see what his personality is like up close and personal. In fact, the whole team is a bunch of great guys. They aren’t just all regular jocks.”

I sighed and said, “Okay, you’ve got me convinced. I don’t really have anything else on Saturday that would keep me from being there. Now do me a really big favor and get out of here so I can get some work done.”

Shane grinned. He said, “Oh, sure thing. I was just heading for the door.” He stood up straight and strolled to the door with a backpack slung over his shoulder. He was a good three inches shorter than his boyfriend Joey, but Shane’s personality was twice as outgoing. “I’ll see you on Saturday, Mr. Vaughan!” Then he turned his head one last time and added with a sheepish grin, “I guess I’ll actually see you tomorrow in school.”

I laughed to myself as I turned back to the stack of homework papers to grade. By happenstance, Shane’s paper was on the top of the stack, and while I made red check marks I hoped that he was right about making an effort to improve his grades. He was more intelligent than what he demonstrated in his math homework. He needed something to focus his attention on school.

On the drive home, my thoughts drifted to the summer ahead. I had no particular plans other than the week or two than diving into preparation for the next school year. Other teachers told me that I really needed to take part of the summer off, and they were probably right. Many of my colleagues liked to travel over the summer. Some of them headed to Europe while others went camping in the Rocky Mountains.

It all sounded exciting to me, but I didn’t like to travel on my own. I thought about that. Maybe I should try to do something to curb the alone time. My last dating relationship that lasted more than a month was my senior year in college. Ted was cute, funny, and hot in bed, but too often I felt like I was dating someone with the emotional capacity of a seventh grader. It was exhausting.

---

Shane was right about the softball game. It wasn’t just an ordinary collection of men playing softball on the weekend. The team ranged from guys that looked like real athletes to one who had piercings and tattoos and looked like he belonged on a Harley instead of tossing a neon green softball around the outfield. I found my way to a seat on the bleachers behind home plate and settled in to watch the festivities.

I self-consciously reached a hand up to brush the hair off my forehead. I was overdue for a haircut and the bangs that hung rakishly down in the past now just looked shaggy and unruly.

Shane told me that the team I should be cheering for was called the Soft Serves. They wore green jerseys with the team name and an ice cream cone on the front and the player’s last name placed in block letters in an arch across the back.

I pulled the cell phone out of my pocket to check the time. It was still ten minutes before the game was set to begin. Shane and Joey still had plenty of time to show up.

Then I spotted the man I was supposedly scouting. I read the name Powell on the back of his jersey. He was tall, slim, muscular, and he had brown hair trimmed close to the scalp. It had to be Blake. The way he moved there was no doubt in my mind that he was one of the most skilled players on the team.

Unfortunately, talent on the field didn’t always necessarily add up to skills as a coach. It was possible to be one of the best players of all time and still have difficulty instructing others to follow in your footsteps. Sometimes, successful coaching and teaching could be a blend of difficult-to-understand instinct and art. I found that out when I tried to coach chess players. There was a lot more to coaching than just being able to play the game yourself.

I continued to watch as another player jogged up to Blake. He whispered in Blake’s ear and they both started laughing out loud. I tried to read the name across his back, but he was standing with his back angled toward the outfield. I thought I could make out a G at the end of the name, but I couldn’t read anything else.

Although I was supposed to be watching Blake, I had a hard time taking my eyes off his friend. The man was shorter than Blake, but he had broader shoulders and a strong, sculpted chest. Then he turned just a bit more so that his face was toward home plate. He laughed even louder and slapped his thighs with his hands. As he was slightly bent over, the long-haired and pierced teammate joined in the conversation and soon all three men were laughing.

The object of my attention had a strikingly handsome face, and he was older than his teammates. I would have guessed he was nearing age 40. He had a chiseled jaw and a sparkle in his eyes that I could see clear across the softball diamond.

“Mr. Vaughan! You’re here! See Joey, I told you he would come.” Shane’s voice pulled me out of my concentration on the softball players, and I stood up just as he climbed on to the bleachers along with Joey. Both of their faces lit up with smiles, and I reached out a hand to shake with both of them.

I said, “I told you I would be here, Shane. I’m a man who keeps my word.” I gave another quick glance to the field and read the word Easterling on the back of the uniform, before I concentrated fully on Shane and Joey.

Patting the aluminum bleachers at my side, I said, “Why don’t you guys just have a seat here next to me? It looks like the crowd isn’t going to be too thick.”

Joey took a seat on the opposite side of Shane and leaned forward to ask, “Did you see Blake, Mr. Vaughan? He’s out there. He’s the tall guy with the name Powell on his back.”

I nodded and said, “Yes, and he does look like an impressive player. I just don’t know yet how to figure out if he would make a solid coach. I wonder if he’s had any actual experience.”

Shane said, “Well, he helped us in the batting cage. He was really good at that. He helped adjust our swings and our stances in the batter’s box. I think that’s part of why I finally made the team, Mr. Vaughan. Blake knew just what to show me so that I could get better at hitting.”

I raised an eyebrow and asked, “Is that why you want him to get the job so badly? Because you owe him something, Shane?”

Shane shook his head vigorously and said, “Oh, no, nothing like that. I’m thinking about what’s best for the team.”

I grinned as Joey’s hand crept up Shane’s back until his fingers spread playfully around the back of Shane’s neck. He said, “Shane just likes to rattle on a lot. Sometimes he says a little too much, but I can vouch for Blake. Uh, I guess we should call him Mr. Powell. He really is good. He’s fun to be around, too. I think you would like him, Mr. Vaughan.”

Leaning in toward Shane and Joey, I asked them, “Do you know the other guy out there? He’s the one with the name Easterling on his back.”

Shane said, “Oh, that’s Marshall. Blake…” He stopped himself for a moment. I could see they were both already thinking of Blake as a potential coach. Shane said, “Mr. Powell is good friends with Marshall.”

I said, “Marshall looks like a strong athlete, too. Look at the muscles in his shoulders and chest.”

Joey grinned and said, “He’s strong, but he’s a little clumsy on the field. I mean, he’s better than most of the team, but he’s not Blake or Billy.”

“Billy?”

Joey nodded. “The guy with the long hair. He’s the best guy on the team other than Blake.”

I was surprised about the comment made about Billy. It was a lesson in judging books by their covers. According to Shane and Joey, Marshall looked like an athlete but was only average on the field. Billy looked like he belonged elsewhere, riding a motorcycle or hanging out in a bar, but he was one of the team’s stars. Armed with more information about the players, I settled in to watch the game with significantly more interest. “And do you know anything about the pitcher?” I asked.

Shane said, “That’s Ian. He’s Mr. Powell’s boyfriend. He’s a good guy, too.”

I nodded. It was obvious Ian would look good standing at Blake’s side. Blake was playing third base. Unfortunately, Marshall, the man I most wanted to watch, was stuck in the outfield. I could understand the comment about clumsiness. Through the first few innings, when it came to running or swinging the bat, he demonstrated only average skills, but he looked very good doing it.

“Do you know what Marshall does?” I asked Shane and Joey.

“Does?” asked Shane.

“His job. What kind of work does he do?”

“Oh, he’s a college professor,” said Joey. “That’s what Mr. Powell told us. He teaches something about the weather.” Suddenly, Joey turned to the game again. Blake connected with the ball at home plate and sent it over the fence. Shane and Joey rose to their feet cheering, and I joined in.

“Way to go, Blake!” shouted Shane. He cringed and said, “It’s going to be so hard calling him Coach Powell if he gets the job.”

The game wasn’t close from that point forward. The Soft Serves took home a victory by a score of 10-2. Shane tugged on the back of my shirt afterward and said, “Please, come meet Mr. Powell. I’m sure you’ll like him.”

I followed Shane and Joey, and smiled when Blake embraced both with big hugs. He was sweaty and his uniform was smeared with dirt, but Shane and Joey didn’t care. I introduced myself and said, “I’m Jordan Vaughan. I teach high school math, and I’ve had both of these boys in class. I know them from extracurriculars, too.”

“The baseball team?” asked Blake.

Smiling, I said, “No, I head up the LGBTQ and Allies student group.”

Blake smiled and said, ‘Well, that’s just as important as baseball.”

As he said the word “baseball,” Marshall appeared and gave Blake a swat on the ass with his glove.

I listened to Marshall’s deep, resonant voice say, “Good game, Blake. You really corked the one homer. I think they are still out there looking for it in the weeds.”

“Aw, thanks, Marshall,” said Blake. Then he turned to me to acknowledge my presence. He said, “Oh, and by the way, Marshall, meet my new buddy…was it Jordan?”

I beamed happy that Blake remembered my name, I said, “Yes, that’s the name, Jordan Vaughan.”

Marshall reached his hand around the side of Blake, and I eagerly shook it. His shake was firm but not overpowering. Our eyes met, and I thought I saw more than just a passing glance. His dark eyes sparkled. When he let go, Marshall pulled up the front of his jersey to wipe at the sweat on his face. I focused on planting my feet in place so that I wouldn’t swoon. His abs were just as muscular as the rest of his body.

Blake said, “Aw c’mon, Marshall. Stop showing off. We all know you go to the gym.”

Marshall smiled. He said, “I just had sweat in my eye, Blake. Good game again. I gotta go. I’m heading to the Toolbox for a drink with Billy, and then I’ve gotta get home and finish up grades for the semester. Anyway, come join us for a drink if you wanna celebrate.”

Blake said, “I’ve gotta talk to these guys a little bit, and then I’ll see what Ian’s up for.”

I turned and focused on Marshall walking away for maybe a little bit too long. Finally, I heard Blake address me and say, “So, you’re a teacher? I’m sure these guys have told you that I’m thinking about that open coaching job at the high school.”