CHAPTER 1

Vinnie hadn't experienced such an exhilarating rush of adrenaline in quite some time. His hands trembled with a mix of anxiety and anticipation. This was the culmination of their tireless effortsâ?"the moment they had been working towards, both on and off the field. Every hour of practice, every swing of the bat, had led to this very point.

It was a make-or-break moment, a test of their abilities. The crowd, raucous and enthusiastic, cheered for the children and their respective teams. Despite Vinnie's nerves, the spectators appeared unwavering in their confidence. They had witnessed his son and the team's remarkable performance match after match, witnessing home runs, incredible catches, and hard-fought victories. They knew what Vinnie's son was capable of, fully aware that he possessed the skills to win the game.

Vinnie glimpsed the onlookers from the dugout, the sea of color from the crowd's jerseys blended in a whirl, every face a mix of anticipation and hope. Among the fans several mothers whispered and giggled, their eyes trailing the former baseball player. Even after all these years, his athletic build and chiseled jawline still drew attention.

Vinnie regained his own confidence as the team's coach. He had been a baseball player himself, intimately familiar with the pressure of standing on the plate at such a critical moment. He had passed down his knowledge of the game to his son, cherishing the opportunity to impart wisdom to his own flesh and blood. The joy he felt from teaching his son and witnessing his growth was unparalleled.

"Go get 'em, Charlie!" Vinnie cheered, clapping his hands in support. "Remember everything we've practiced, kid."
Vinnie's gaze was locked onto his son. Each shuffle of Charlie's feet, every bead of sweat that rolled down his temple, magnified Vinnie's own heartbeat. Memories of his own time on the plate came flooding back, the weight of the bat, the tension in the air, the opposing team's stares.
Heat waves rose from the sun-baked ground, blurring the distant fence. The sweltering ninety-three-degree sun was unforgiving, making Vinnie's shirt cling to his back. He slid his aviator glasses down his nose, watching Charlie, who shot a confident wink back.

My boy is growing up.

This was the Green Jays Little League team's first appearance in the championship game in eight years, and the crowd of parents and friends eagerly awaited, whistling, and shouting in support of the talented twelve-year-old.

It was the bottom of the final inning, with the score tied at two. A runner stood on second base, Charlie's best friend, Scotty, with no outs.

Vinnie felt an immense sense of pride for his son on that day, surrounded by the earsplitting and synchronized chants of the crowd. "Let's go, Charlie! Let's go, Charlie!"

Only two years prior, Vinnie had taken on the role of the team's coach replacing the previous trainer who had succumbed to drug addiction. Having moved from his hometown in New York to Dallas a few months earlier, he accepted the coaching position at the encouragement of his son.

Every fiber of Vinnie's being believed in his son's prowess on the field. But old instincts, honed from years as an FBI field officer, whispered warnings in his ear. In moments of high stakes, anything could happen.

"Come on, Charlie", Vinnie thought, his grip tightening on the dugout fence, "just one good hit". Memories of games lost by a hair's breadth, of moments that could've turned the tide, flashed before him. "This is your moment, son."

Smack! The sharp crack of the bat connecting with the ball sent shivers down Vinnie's spine. As the ball raced, past the legs of both the pitcher and second baseman, coming to a halt just inches from the outfield fence, two hundred feet away from home plate.

"Yes!" Vinnie exclaimed, pumping his fist in the air, The crowd's roar was deafening, a noise of cheers and shouts that echoed in Vinnie's ears.

Scotty had already crossed home plate, greeted, and playfully tackled by his teammates before the outfielders even retrieved the ball.

Vinnie leaped over the dugout fence, sprinting towards Charlie. He embraced his son tightly, lifting him onto his shoulders. The crowd's thunderous applause and chants for Charlie echoed through the stadium as they celebrated the historic win.

Amidst the confetti raining down on them, Vinnie felt an indescribable sense of joy and fulfillment. This father-son moment was nothing short of magical, as they basked in the shower of confetti and praise.

They rounded third base and Vinnie spotted Rachael, her blonde hair dancing lightly in the breeze.

Charlie slid off his father's shoulders and sprinted to her, "Hey, Mom," he said, with a wide grin on his face.

"Great game, sweetie," his mother replied, embracing him with pride evident in her eyes.

"Thanks, Mom," Charlie said, his voice filled with excitement and accomplishment.

Vinnie urged Charlie, "You better go join your friends over there in their celebration." He pointed a thumb towards the boys shaking soda cans and spraying each other.

Charlie nodded eagerly, running off to join his jubilant teammates.

Vinnie approached Rachael, "Hello, Rachael,"

"Hello, Vinnie. Great game to you too," she replied.

There was a brief hesitation before they embracedâ?"an electric pause that spoke of past intimacies. Their hug was warm, but Vinnie could feel the faint rigidity in her back. Yet, as he drew her closer the familiar trace of vanilla touched his nose, bringing back memories, some sweet, some painful.

Vinnie was the first to pull away as he caught her taking a lingering glance at him, her eyes tracing the familiar contours of his face. The distance between them was more than just physical, yet old affections sometimes had a way of surfacing.

"Still wearing that perfume, Rachael?" Vinnie commented.

Rachael smiled. "Some things never change, do they? She replied, her voice a hint of wistfulness. Biting her lower lip.

Vinnie recognized that gesture all too well, a sign of her unease and apprehension. He watched as her gaze shifted towards the stands then leaned in closer to Rachael, lowering his voice for just the two of them. "Dougie boy seems a bit shy today. Not in a celebrating mood?"

Rachael rolled her eyes and sighed. "Oh, stop it, Vince. He's intimidated by you. You make him feel uncomfortable when we're all together."

Vinnie beamed, dimples showing. "Should I call him over?"

"Yes, that would be considerate," Rachael answered, raising an eyebrow.

Vinnie cleared his throat and then called out, "Yo Douggie boy, come join us! We've got a victory to celebrate over here!" He taunted playfully. He then felt the familiar nudge of Rachael's elbowâ?"a move she often used when they were together to subtly correct him. The touch, though brief, was laden with a mix of fondness and frustration. "Ow! What theâ?""

"That's what I'm talking about," Rachael said through clenched teeth. "Be nice."


Doug hesitated before approaching, clearly trying not to stare too much at Vinnie. "Hello, Vince," he said, his voice faltering a bit. It wasn't just Vinnie's reputation that was intimidating, but also the undeniable charisma that radiated from him, even in such casual moments. "It's nice to see you again."
"Is it now?" Vinnie said, a sly smirk on his face. "Hear that, Rach? Nice to see me again."

Rachael folded her hands, rolling her eyes.

Vinnie turned to Doug. "Did you enjoy the game, Douggie Boy?"

Doug's face lit up. "Oh yes! It was wicked!"


Vinnie raised an eyebrow, a playful smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Wicked? What decade did you pick that up from?"

The vibrations of Vinnie's cell phone interrupted their cordial conversation.


"Excuse me," Vinnie muttered, stepping away from the group, his voice tinged with surprise and an undercurrent of seriousness that hadn't been there moments ago.

"Hello?" He listened for a moment, his face growing more serious, eyes unfocused as if being pulled into a distant memory. The noise of the celebration around him faded into the background, the world around him blurring.

Taking a deep breath, he whispered, almost to himself, "How did this happen?" After another pause, he said, "I'll be there. Thank you for letting me know."

Hanging up, Vinnie took a moment, lost in thought, the phone clutched a little too tightly in his hand. The joy of the recent victory was now tinged with a shadow of something deeper, something from the past. When he rejoined the group, there was a distant look in his eyes, a mix of nostalgia and sorrow, but he tried to keep his demeanor unchanged.