Something smells fishy

Karma is a b*itch

Then I came into the picture, the noisy American. Okumura sensei wasn't exactly the epiphany of happiness when I assisted my first practice, but as soon as he realised that I was not there to take his place, he relaxed and let me have it my way. As long as he got to read his daily newspaper, we had the freedom to play some real baseball.

' Yuma, throw it to Keita. Put some force into it, little man.' I yelled across the field.
'No, Yuma, that's how my grandmother throws ball. Are you seventy years old? Straighten your arm completely.'

The boys, their heads cleanly shaved, their faces red from practicing outside in the scorching heat, ran across the field trying to get the hang of my latest pitcher/catcher to second base drill.

Basically the pitcher would deliver the pitch, the catcher received it and threw  it to second base and all of this had to happen in under seven seconds. We set the conditioning for this particular challenge at ten straight steals but the boys kept cheating when they thought I wasn't looking so we have been doing this for the past hour.

Everybody was exhausted, including me. I was about to call it a day when something glanced in front of my eyes. I heard a loud thud before everything went dark.

Man down.

The sand under me was so hot and uncomfortable. The sun scorched my perfect face. I felt like a sunny side up fried egg.

'Arghh', I let out a long sigh, just to open my eyes and see another twenty pairs staring down at me.

'Sensei, daijyoubu?' everybody watched me inquiringly but amused.

'Daijyoubu, daijoubu' I answered reassuring them in Japanese that I was fine.

'O-Kay, okay', I tried to stand up but I suddenly felt dizzy.

I steadied myself and sat back down crossing my legs.

'Water please,' I looked pleadingly at Aito. He was probably the one who threw the ball since his face was a lovely shade of purple and he kept fidgeting his bony fingers. I knew his ball control wasn't that good, but the kid loved baseball. I didn't want him to feel guilty.

'Aito, water please,' I repeated my request. The boy didn't move for another few seconds. Then suddenly darted off in the direction of the drink machines. 

Good kid, I thought to myself while smiling brightly at the nineteen pair of eyes still ogling me.

When I became the assistant coach we had agreed with the principle that we would use English during practice to help kids get used to speaking it.

'Okey, minna, it is all for today. Finish!'

Relieved that Okumura sensei had not witnessed this lovely encounter between my forehead and the ball, everybody dispersed in the blink of an eye. After getting the water and towel from Aito, I patted him on his small, shiny head and let him join his friends.

It hurt to touch my forehead. Damn it, I hope I do not get a bruise, we're going out with Miyu tonight.

As I was looking at my face in the restroom mirror, it didn't look as bad I have thought.  A small bump but nothing a pack of ice couldn't solve. I took a quick shower before heading home to get ready for my girls' night with Miyu.

It was early september, but the days were still long and the heat still unbereable, even at five in the afternoon. I entered my little apartment and ran towards the air conditioner.

I took out  a pack of frozen peas and pressed it to my forehead. As the pain resigned, I couldn't wait to hop into the shower again. The cold water washed away the remnants of the pain, my tiredness and my thoughts.