Baseball Dads: Sex, Drugs, Murder, Children's Baseball Part 23

"f.u.c.k you, Dave, this doesn't concern you," T-Bone replied. "If we want to know what uneducated dumba.s.ses think about things, we'll ask one of Lawn Boy's coworkers."

Dwayne smiled at T-Bone. He didn't say a word. He didn't break eye contact at all, even when Dave appeared behind T-Bone clutching a confiscated big-barrel bat that was illegal during regular season little league play.

"Hey, d.i.c.kstain," Dave said to T-Bone.

T-Bone turned around just in time to see the bat coming full speed at his face. He took a solid hit right in the teeth and dropped unconscious onto the dirty floor.

"Jesus, Dave, you've got a great swing," Russ offered. "f.u.c.king fantastic form."

"Thanks, man," Dave replied, throwing the bat up over his shoulder, where he let it rest. "I was All State in high school, then I got a full ride in college. I had over a .500 average for three years."

Dave fondly relished the good old days before his eyebrows turned downward and his attention was brought back to a twitching and contorted T-Bone Sprinkle. "Then I went to prison."

Dave picked the bat back up off his shoulder and swung down as hard as he could at T-Bone's skull, which cracked open like a coconut. Blood splattered out onto Russ and Dwayne's faces and across the surface of the old conference table. It shot through the mini blinds and dripped down the window of the booth.

T-Bone's body fidgeted a few times again. It was probably just nerves, but Dave wanted to make sure, so he hit him in the face with the bat three more times at full strength. Each time Dave swung the bat, bits of blood would stream from it, catching in the scattered sunlight like confetti reflecting off a dis...o...b..ll in a dark dance club.

Dave stood heaving over the lifeless body. He had so much blood on his face that he had to wipe it away from his eyes so he could see. He kicked a couple of skull fragments and an eyeball that had popped off with his weathered work boots, then chuckled to himself. Blood began to pool all around in the old s.h.a.g carpet. He tossed the bat onto the floor.

"So I'm guessing we're all cool now, huh?" Dave the umpire asked Dwayne and Russ.

"Yup," Russ answered. "I think we're okeydokey."

"Yeah, I'd say we're cool, Dave," Dwayne said. "And by the way, if you're ever free when we're practicing, I'd love it if you could head on over and show the team that swing. No bulls.h.i.t. It really is outstanding."

"That'd be great." Dave was genuinely flattered. "So, ummm, we've got a dead body here now, so that might be something we should address."

"Yup. No doubt about it," Russ said back, lighting a joint and pa.s.sing it to Dave.

Dave took a toke, then tilted his head, raised his eyebrows, and gave Russ a thumbs-up.

"Can you keep this building secure until about 11:00 p.m. tonight?" Dwayne asked.

"Sure, man," Dave replied. "I'm pretty sure I'm the only one that has a key to it, but I'll throw a padlock on the door anyhow."

"You got shovels here?"

"Yup."

"Power washer?"

"Yup."

"When our practice is over, I think you'll need to redo the pitcher's mound. You think you could dig out the existing one? Maybe go six feet deep or so? It should be pretty soft. It's mostly red dirt and sand."

"No prob, Dwayne."

"Russ and I are going to run to the restroom and wash any residual blood splatter and brain matter off our faces and clothes, and then we're going to go finish our practice strong. We need a win tomorrow. The three of us will meet back here at 11:00 p.m. tonight. Sound good?"

Dave the umpire and Russ nodded in agreement.

"By the way, Dwayne," Dave said. "I just wanted to let you know that I think it's great what you're doing here, bro. Too many douchebags have been f.u.c.king up our game. This is baseball, for G.o.d's sake. I'm glad we're taking it back, man. Win or lose, you're going to show these kids the way the game is supposed to be played. That's awesome."

"Thanks," Dwayne replied softly. "That's all I'm trying to do."

Russ and Dwayne headed to the restroom and then down to the field while Dave locked up.

Steve became concerned when Russ and Dwayne resumed their positions on the field. It did not go unnoticed by him that four men had entered the scoring box and three had returned.

Dwayne smiled at Steve. "Well, let's hope T-Bone had a better backup coach than Ricky Dale." Dwayne gripped his bat and continued the infield drill. "Two to one, then fire it home!" he yelled to the infielders.

"Oh Jesus, Dwayne," Steve said. "I think you need a vacation."

"f.u.c.k that, hombre," Dwayne shot back. "Why should life be so difficult and full of bulls.h.i.t that we need a break from it? Life is my vacation now."

Steve had become a bit nervous about the course his friendship with the other three had taken.

"You know, Dwayne, I saw Star Wars," he said. "I mean, it's been a while, but I don't remember any of them being serial killers. You've killed three people now, Dwayne. I'm not sure what the minimum requirement is to be considered a serial killer, but-"

"One, Stevie," Dwayne interrupted. "I've technically only killed one. Dave killed the other two. But still, I get your point. And as far as the Jedi go ... they were d.a.m.n near wiped out by the conclusion of Episode VI, just one left standing. Imagine how far they could've gone if they'd adopted some of my core values. I'm telling you, they would've prospered."

Dwayne called all of the players in and put them into actual positions according to their talents, the way it should have been done all season. He began calling in kids to bat, one by one, to help establish his batting order. He was beginning to feel good about the team's potential. They looked as though they might be real contenders.

He continued this until 7:00 p.m., when it was time for practice to be over. When practice ended, not a single parent so much as exited their vehicle. They simply let the kids come out to them in the parking lot.

There was no backslapping. No a.s.s-kissing. Nothing. They just gathered their kids and left.

"Good," Dwayne said to himself. "They were listening."

DWAYNE:.

Practice went well tonight.

STEVE:.

Dude, seriously? You killed a guy in the scoring booth with a little league bat.

DWAYNE:.

That bat had been banned by little league because of the barrel size, Steve. So technically, you're wrong.

RUSS:.

LOL.

TOMMY:.

Lalalalalalala. Black guy knows nothing.

DWAYNE:.

We're gonna kill that team tomorrow in the game.

STEVE:.

WHAT???.

DWAYNE:.

Sorry. Poor choice of words.

RUSS:.

Unless they f.u.c.k with us.

STEVE:.