Date: Tue, 15 Apr 2014 12:19:25 -0700 (PDT)
From: - - <mike.99999@yahoo.com>
Subject: Coach and Shy Kid - Part 1

I was sitting on the grass doing nothing. The baseball team was on the
field, practicing, and a ball came all the way out by me and rolled a
couple of feet away from me.

At first, I didn't do anything. I was pretty shy.

The team's coach was out in the field with all the kids, and he yelled over
to me, "Hey! Little help?!" He was the closest to me, out by right field.

I picked up the ball, kind of worried that everybody was looking at me, and
threw it at him. It was pretty far, but I got it all the way to him.

Actually, I guess I threw it kind of hard, because he looked kind of
surprised and looked at me. I wanted to yell "Sorry" but I just stared
back. He nodded a thank you and walked back, looking back over his shoulder
at me.

After maybe 20 minutes, they all ran in and gathered all their stuff
together and left. I walked over to the soda machines. This field is next
to the school, but it's also kind of like a park with a playground and a
parking lot where some guys skateboard. There's a path through the woods to
my house, so I hang out there a lot. Anyway, as I'm walking over to get a
soda, that coach is still there.

"Hey kid! Catch!" he yells, and he throws me a ball. I catch it, and he
comes over next to me. I toss it back to him, and he says thanks.

"You play ball?" he asks. I shake my head no. I drop in some coins and push
a button for a soda. He starts to do the same. It's quiet for a minute.

"You play any sports?" he asks. I shake my head no.

"What's your name, kid?" he asks.

I mumble, "Tom."

"Hey Tom," he says and he holds out his hand. "Everybody just calls me
Coach."

I look at his hand and then up at him. I reach out and look away while
giving him a weak handshake while he squeezes mine.

"I think you've got a good arm, Tom," he says. "You should think about
playing baseball. We could really use some more good players on the team."

I just stand there. I don't say anything. We both silently drink our
sodas. He's dressed in a uniform like coaches and managers do for baseball
teams. I watch baseball on TV sometime, so it's not so weird to me. I'm
wearing a T-shirt and jeans, both kind of big on me. We end up sitting
side-by-side on a bench by the backstop.

"You want to play a little catch?" he asks, holding up a glove for me.

I shrug my shoulders and mutter "okay." We toss the ball back and forth to
each other for a while, and then he starts making conversation.

"You live nearby, or did you ride your bike?"

"I just walked. I live back through there," I say and point to the path. He
nods his head like he knows it.

"Yeah, I think I've seen you walking around before! My house is right
there!" he says, pointing to a row of houses across the street from the
park.

A minute goes by of just playing catch.

"We could use you on the team," he says. "There's still a week before the
deadline to sign up. Do you like baseball?"

I shrug my shoulders and yell, "It's okay I guess." I look around, kind of
nervously.

"You have somewhere you need to be?" he asks. I had absolutely nothing else
to do that day. I shake my head no. He catches the ball and runs over to
me.

"Let me show you a trick, Tom," he says. "Just before you let the ball go,
flick your wrist." He demonstrates a little wrist action a few times, and I
copy it. "Good, just like that," he says.

Then we just stand there for a second next to each other, and he looks at
me, and I look back at him. He flips the ball over at me. "So you don't
like sports?" he asks.

"Not really," I say. He asks why. "Well, if you play sports, then you have
to always be playing sports all the time, right? You have to get really
into it," I say.

He nods his head a bit and says, "You have other stuff you'd rather be
doing? What are you into?"

I shrug my shoulders. I don't say anything. Then I say, "nothing much."

"Why do you really not want to play sports?" he asks.

"Well, I'm kind of shy," I say. "And when you play sports you have to get
changed with other guys and shower with other guys."

"Well you can't let that stop you," he says. "And don't you do that for gym
class anyway?"

"No," I say. "Nobody showers after gym. It's only a half-hour, and you
don't really do anything. I usually just wear sweats on the days that I
have gym, or sometimes I'll change really quick after everybody else has."

He says, "You know, in the locker room, sometimes the most you'd have off
is your shirt, and you've had your shirt off at the beach or in the pool,
right?" he says. I stand there and don't say anything for a minute.

"No, I don't usually take my shirt off. I used to be kind of heavy, and the
other guys would tease me sometimes."

He looks at me. "A lot of guys are shy about stuff like that," he says. "Is
that all?"

"Well, you have to get a physical too, right? I don't really like doctors."
He nods and waits. "And you guys are always hitting each other on the
butt. I just don't think I'd be comfortable."

"Okay, so you're shy. That's okay," he says. "Maybe you'll get more
comfortable and want to join the team. I know lots of guys who are shy
about their bodies and don't like to get undressed for the doctor or to pee
next to another guy, stuff like that."

I say okay and that I guess I'll be going. He says, "See you around!"

As I walked away, I figured that was it.

Years later, I found out that Coach decided then and there to get me
comfortable enough with nudity to join the team.


Part 2 to come