“ONE HUNDRED THOUSAND! ONE HUNDRED THOUSAND!”
Tom looked uncomfortable.
He glanced toward his manager.
Then back at the camera.
“Well, yes, but obviously we need to work out the details.”
Melissa’s smile weakened.
“The details?”
Tom nodded.
“Charitable donations involve paperwork.”
Jason Cole approached.
“Tom.”
The retired legend turned.
Jason looked at him.
“You made a promise to the kid.”
Tom frowned.
“I know what I said.”
“Then keep it.”
The crowd continued chanting.
Tom looked toward me.
I had returned to the mound.
I wasn’t cheering.
I wasn’t jumping.
I was simply holding my father’s glove.
Waiting.
Tom stared at me for a long moment.
Then he took the microphone.
“Elijah.”
I looked up.
“Yes, sir?”
“Come here.”
I walked toward him.
The cameras followed.
Tom crouched slightly.
“You really surprised me today.”
“Thank you, sir.”
He looked at my glove.
Then at my shoes.
“Tell me something. Why do you want that money?”
I swallowed.
“To save our baseball field.”
The crowd quieted.
Tom frowned.
“What field?”
“Riverside Park.”
“Where’s that?”
“Outside Fort Worth.”
He nodded.
“And what’s wrong with it?”
I looked toward the cameras.
“The lights don’t work. The fence is broken. The city says we can’t play there anymore.”
Tom studied me.
“How many kids use it?”
“Twelve on our team. More in the summer.”
He looked surprised.
“Just twelve?”
I nodded.
“Yes, sir.”
Tom glanced toward the crowd.
“One hundred thousand dollars is a lot of money for twelve kids.”
I felt something tighten in my chest.
I looked down at my glove.
Then back at him.
“It’s not just for twelve kids.”
Tom frowned.
“What do you mean?”
I took a breath.
“It’s for the kids who haven’t joined yet.”
The stadium became silent.
I continued.
“My dad used to coach there. He said every kid should have somewhere safe to play, even if their parents couldn’t afford expensive equipment.”
Tom stared at me.
I held up the glove.
“He fixed this for me because we couldn’t buy another one.”
My voice trembled.
“He died last year.”
The crowd remained silent.
I swallowed.
“And I don’t want the field he loved to disappear.”
For several seconds, nobody spoke.
Then Jason Cole began clapping.
Slowly.
One clap.
Then another.
The applause spread through the stadium.
Tom looked at me.
For the first time, his expression softened.
He glanced toward the glove.
Then toward the giant screen.
And finally, he lowered his head.
“I owe you an apology.”
I blinked.
“Sir?”
Tom took a breath.
“I made fun of your glove.”
I nodded.
He looked at the cameras.
“And I made a promise because I thought you couldn’t possibly win.”
The crowd became quiet again.
Tom continued.
“That was wrong.”
He turned toward me.
“You earned every one of those strikes.”
My eyes filled with tears.
“Thank you, sir.”
Tom stood.
Then spoke into the microphone.
“Elijah Brooks, I will donate the full one hundred thousand dollars to Riverside Park’s youth baseball program.”
The stadium erupted again.
But this time, I wasn’t thinking about the money.
I was thinking about my father.
And how much I wished he could have seen it.
That evening, after the stadium emptied, Jason Cole found me sitting alone in the dugout.
My mother had gone to speak with the event organizers.
I was holding my father’s glove.
Jason sat beside me.
“Big day, huh?”
I nodded.
“Yes, sir.”
He smiled.
“Three beautiful pitches.”
“Thank you.”
He looked at the glove.
“Can I see it?”
I hesitated.
Then handed it over.
Jason examined the stitching.
“Who fixed this?”
“My dad.”
Jason ran his thumb along the fishing line.
“He knew what he was doing.”
I smiled.
“He fixed everything.”
Jason nodded.
Then turned the glove over.
He stared at the leather near the wrist.
His expression changed.
“Elijah.”
“Yes?”
“What was your father’s name?”
“Samuel Brooks.”
Jason went completely still.
“Samuel Brooks?”
I nodded.
“Did he ever play baseball professionally?”
I shook my head.
“No, sir. He worked as a mechanic.”
Jason stared at the glove.
Then at me.
“Did he ever tell you about a team called the Fort Worth Comets?”
I frowned.
“No.”
Jason swallowed.
He looked toward the empty field.
Then said something that made my heart stop.
“Elijah, I knew your father.”
I stared.
“What?”
Jason nodded slowly.
“Years ago.”
I looked at the glove.
Then back at him.
“How?”
Jason took a breath.
“Before I made it to the Major Leagues, I played in a small independent league. Your father was one of the most talented pitchers I’d ever seen.”
I couldn’t speak.
Jason continued.
“He could put a baseball almost anywhere he wanted.”
My eyes widened.
“Like me?”
Jason smiled sadly.
“Exactly like you.”
I looked down at my hands.
“My dad never told me.”
Jason nodded.
“There’s a reason.”
I stared at him.
“What reason?”
Jason hesitated.
Then looked toward the tunnel leading to the locker rooms.
“Your father gave up his chance to play professionally after something happened during a championship game.”
I felt my chest tighten.
“What happened?”
Jason looked at me.
Then spoke quietly.
“Tom Reynolds was involved.”
I stared.
The same man who had mocked my glove.
The same man who had offered the hundred thousand dollars.
The same man who had just apologized in front of thirty thousand people.
Jason handed the glove back.
“Elijah, I think there’s something about your father’s baseball career you deserve to know.”
I looked at the worn leather.
The crooked stitching.
The dark marks left by years of practice.
For most of my life, I’d believed it was just an old glove.
Now I was beginning to wonder whether it carried a story my father had never been able to tell me.
And for the first time since stepping onto the mound, I felt something stronger than excitement.
I felt the beginning of a question.
One that would change everything I thought I knew about my father.
End of Chapter 1
