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Karkat didn’t really miss playing baseball properly. Not as much as he thought he would. When he stopped, he thought it would be a constant thrum through his veins, to get onto the field again, to catch again, to hit again. However, he found that, while he missed parts of it, the camaraderie, the feeling of the ball flying over the end wall into the stands, he didn’t feel the ache necessarily. Anyways, it wasn’t like he wasn’t involved in baseball at all.
Little league was different to the kind of baseball he used to play. The stakes were lower, obviously, they were 12, but the kids seemed to love baseball in a way that Karkat felt he may have lost as he got further and further up through the ranks.
Don’t get him wrong, he loved baseball, but not in that wide-eyed, bushy tailed way these kids seemed to.
So that was Karkat’s life now, almost a major leaguer, little league ball coach.
***************
Karkat’s day started, probably as normal as it could have been. Get up, eat breakfast, do his laundry, finish writing up his training plans, and get down to the field by 3pm.
Karkat parked by the field of the university he co-opted for little league practice in the afternoons, before the university team took over the field. He got out of his car, greeted the groundskeepers and pottered around, pulling out bats and balls and setting up the tees for hitting practice.
He kind of dreaded hitting practice. He lived in eternal fear that one kid would get beaned in the head with a baseball and he would never hear the end of it from parents. He already got enough shit from that time one of his kids fell during baserunning practice and had a sprained ankle for the next three weeks.
It was always something with these parents, whether it be their kid not producing, or their kid not getting enough time in games, or their kid being too low in the batting order, or their kid not playing the position they wanted.
Karkat could go on.
He loved his job though.
*******************
Around 4pm was when the parents pulled up, with their kids, dropping them at the door of the field so Karkat could get started with the training. It was uneventful as most practices were, throwing balls gently at the kids, so they could hit it across the park, setting up targets around the fields for the kids to aim, the classics.
There was a new kid on the team, though, who Karkat was struggling to make waves with. He could throw a mean slider, don’t get Karkat wrong, but he was just, so weird.
He was quiet, near silent, and would just stare with this vacant expression, whenever Karkat asked him anything. He also refused to remove these insane pointy shades, right out of an anime, which Karkat couldn’t really fault. He chose the right sport if he wanted to wear shades all the time. The much bigger issue was that he hated hitting.
“Dirk please, just try once, please,” Karkat pleaded, holding out a bat. “You can decide you hate it after,”
Dirk didn’t say anything, just stared impassively at Karkat.
Karkat was losing to an eleven year old.
“Dirk, please,” Karkat said, “You can pitch for the rest of practice, just compromise on this for me man.”
Dirk continued to stare at him, barely moving, holding a baseball tightly in his right hand.
“Sure fine, cool, I’m just going to,” Karkat trailed off, gesturing at the rest of the kids, “Yeah, you get me,”
************
He ended the practice as he always did, hitting balls really high into the sky and getting the kids to try and catch them. Never fails, children love concussions, and running headfirst into them.
Karkat had only hit one child with this game, and he thought that was a pretty good record.
It had just eked into 6pm when the parents started arriving for pickup, and for the coaches of the actual university team got onto the field.
Dirk was one of the last kids to go, as he often was. He seemed relatively content with it, sitting by the side of the field, while Karkat gathered up the bats and balls, and put them away in the little equipment shed.
Finally, Dirk got picked up, and he ran over excitedly, getting swept up in his older brother Dave's arms, in honestly, an impressive show of strength.
“Hey little man, how was practice,” The other man said, before looking up at Karkat, “Sorry I’m late, work and all that,”
Karkat just nodded idly, “Can I talk to you for a minute?”
Dave looked between Dirk and Karkat, before nodding, dropping Dirk to his feet, “Just go and grab your stuff real quick, I gotta just get my chatting on with Karkles over here,” Dirk just nodded, running off to his bag. Dave looked back up at Karkat, looking relatively at ease, but still picking nervously at his thumbnail.
“Dirk refuses to hit,”
Dave’s eyebrow raised above his aviator shades, that he seemed to have permanently glued to his nose, maybe it was a family thing. That’s why Dirk was in baseball instead of literally any other sport, his hereditary shades wearing gene.
“Yeah, he’s a pitcher,” Dave said, rolling his shoulder back, “He doesn’t need to hit does he?”
“We’re trying every kid out on something, he can’t just undermine my authority like that, can you just ask him to give hitting a try before he decides he hates it forever,”
“I can try,” Dave said skeptically, “Don’t want to force him to do anything,”
Karkat narrowed his eyes at Dave, “Sure, yeah, just ask please,”
And that was that.
***************
The next time Dirk pulled up to the field, he was eyeing Karkat, as he dropped his bags to the side of the field.
They weren’t allowed to use the clubhouse, what with it being filled with university student’s bats and balls, and children being perpetually sticky, so Karkat’s version of that was an inadvisably tall pile of bags and coats that were one stray ball away from falling over.
“Dave told me I need to try hitting today,” Dirk said, walking up to Karkat
“Please, you only need to try it once,” Karkat said back, pulling bats out of the storeroom. “Then you can go back to pitching to your little hearts content.”
“Pitchers don’t hit.”
“They only stopped in 2022, Dirk.”
“I don’t care what the national league is doing,” Dirk said, confused, “You’re in Astro’s territory,”
“Don’t remind me,” Karkat said, rolling his shoulders in a shrug, standing up to welcome the rest of the kids onto the field.
That day didn’t consist of any hitting for the most part, being made of fielding exercises. Karkat spent the better part of practice hitting balls along the ground and high into the air for the children to catch, and making them practice throwing.
Dirk did this without complaint, Karkat noticed, gratefully.
Karkat didn’t want to end the practice without any batting practice, so with about half an hour left of practice, he gathered all the children up in a line, letting them one by one set into the batters box, hitting one of the balls Karkat gently threw at them.
Dirk was finally up at the box, holding his bat up by his head. Karkat threw the ball to him, and Dirk didn’t swing, just let the ball sail past his head into the wall behind him
“You’re fucking joking.” Karkat whispered under his breath, hyperaware of the small crowd of 12 year olds around him.
“One more time for me?” Karkat then asked, to Dirk’s impassive nod. Karkat grit his teeth, throwing the ball back to Dirk, who didn’t swing again, letting the ball bounce off his bat into the dirt.
Karkat realised the optics of fighting with an 11 year old. It was for that reason that he decided to move Dirk along, so he could get through all the kids before time ran out.
***************
Karkat was dreading pickup, when it was just him and Dirk left in the field, waiting for his guardian.
“Shohei Ohtani,” Karkat said, interrupting the silence “he’s literally considered one of the greatest players doing it right now,”
“He’s the exception,” Dirk said, shrugging, “They introduced designated hitters for a reason, it was uncomfortable for everybody.”
“Barry Bonds?”
“If you made Barry Bonds play modern baseball he would shit himself and die.”
“Language,”
Dirk didn’t say anything back.
They were saved by Dave walking over, “Hey little man, hit a lot of balls today?” he said, picking Dirk up.
Karkat bit the inside of his cheek, watching them. Dave then dropped Dirk so he could run over to get his bag from the other side of the field.
“Dave.” Karkat said.
“Hm?” Dave asked, looking over at Karkat.
“He’s still not hitting,” Karkat said, “He holds the bat, he won’t swing at the ball.”
“Is that a bad thing?” Dave asked, “I don’t want to force him to do things he doesn’t want to man,”
“He won’t try once?” Karkat asked, “what if he’s good at it man,”
Dave just shrugs, “I don’t know what to tell you, I don’t know anything about baseball or how to help you with the baseball that’s your whole thing. I just drop Dirk off, let him run some bases, throw some shit and come back”
“He’s good though,” Karkat said frustratedly, “I know he’s like, 12, but he’s good Dave, he could be great if he wasn’t so fucking stubborn, and maybe he won’t hit, that’s fine, he doesn’t need to do that, but he needs to at least, participate. He’ll never make it in a team game if he doesn’t participate Dave. I don’t want to see him not make it as far as he could do because he’s like, a clubhouse nightmare. Can’t you just fucking ask man,”
Dave just looked at him, he had that same impassive, unchanging look as Dirk had, surveying and flat. Karkat almost looked away, not being able to stand his own face staring back at him, in Dave’s shades, red and breathing heavily.
“I’ll see what I can do.” Dave said, shrugging, “Still no promises though.”
“That’s all I ask,”
*************
Karkat was kind of dreading the next training session, it wasn’t that he was only focusing on one of the kids, but only one of the kids was refusing to do something he was on his knees begging them to do.
He started with pitching drills, trying to ease all of them into it, setting up a physical strikezone at the end of the field, getting the kids to throw balls at it. Dirk walked up to the zone, throwing a ball straight through the centre of the strike zone. Karkat nodded approvingly, “Can you throw a splitter,” he then asked looking back up at Dirk, who just nodded, throwing a ball and letting it drop directly in front of the strike zone, hitting the bottom.
Karkat gnawed the inside of his cheek, looking up at Dirk, “That was good, Dirk”. Dirk just nodded, walking off to join the other kids who had just thrown.
He ran through a couple of similar exercises and techniques, before finally starting the thing he was dreading the most.
Hitting practice.
The other kids were pretty good, with some of them hitting pretty far out to the outfield, but Dirk finally walked up to the batters box, swinging the bat up by his head. Karkat held his breath, and threw the ball out at Dirk, who swung, and let the ball bounce along the ground.
Karkat couldn’t really believe what he was seeing, as he watched Dirk move away for the next kid, dragging his bat along the floor.
He ran through the last half hour of practice on a weird high that he had never experienced before.
************
Practice finished like it always did, with Dirk hanging around for an extra 15 minutes after practice ended waiting for Dave to come pick him up.
“Zack Greinke," Dirk then said, out of nowhere.
Karkat looked up at Dirk, head tilted, “Yeah?” he asked.
“He hit pretty good,”
“Used to play shortstop,” Karkat said, nodding. “Astros player, there you go,”
“Oh, I’m a Mets fan,” Dirk said, “I couldn’t care less about the Astros,”
“Of course you are,”
Dirk just shrugged, helping Karkat carry some of the bats to the equipment shed, “I like Jonah Tong,”
“Fair enough,”
It fell silent again, until Karkat turned around to Dave standing by the edge of the field. Dirk ran up to Dave, who greeted him with a fist bump before turning to Karkat.
“Okay?” Dave asked, gently pushing Dirk in the direction of his bag.
“Yeah, it was great, he’s a pretty good hitter.”
“Yeah man, so excited to show up to his game, and Dirk is like, I hope my absent father shows up, and he looks over to the empty seat, only to see me walk up and sit there. I am the father who stepped up. Dirk will shed one manly tear and hit the farthest home run anyone has ever seen, as the sun sets over the edge of the field, and a legion of planes fly over, it will be beautiful man,”
Karkat looked at him, one eyebrow raised, “Whatever you want as long as you keep him hitting,”
Dave nodded, “As I said, will do my best,”
“Thank you,” Karkat said, smiling at Dave. Dave just ducked his head slightly, embarrassed, saved by Dirk running over with his bag, holding it up to Dave who swung it over his shoulder.
“Come on man, we got some quesadillas which aren’t going to eat themselves,” Dave said, gesturing his head towards the exit, and left with Dirk.
Karkat waved after them, watching them walk out the field. He turned around to finish clearing up the equipment he left and drive to his house.
***************
The first game of the season had started, and Karkat was nervous. There were enough variables in a league that was ostentatiously controlled by the parents, and he wanted to balance giving the kids enough time playing and actually winning a ball game.
They were, however, also, 12, so Karkat was trying not to put too much stake in it.
Karkat was standing in the dugout with the kids, trying to desperately get them to sit still long enough for him to explain the strategy, and listen to his very well put together, extremely rehearsed speech, about the importance of winning but also having fun, and trying ones best. He was the best speech giver, it was him.
And the game was going well, Karkat thought. No serious injuries, and a draw game in the 7th at 3-3, with his team up to bat. It was a tiny girl named Damara who Karkat thought maybe had the hardest swing of any 12 year old he had ever seen, so he had belief they could pull this back.
It was nice to have that belief rewarded as the ball flew over the outfield into the relatively empty stands. Things actually could go Karkat’s way and things weren’t just terrible all the time.
They just had to maintain this for the final two innings.
*****************
The other team hit two RBI’s in the 9th which his team could just not claw back. He watched as the bases were loaded, and a player on the other team managed to get some contact with a slow moving splitter and hit a ball out into the left field.
Karkat started gnawing on his lip, trying to decide how he could get his legion of children to bounce back from this one. He brainstormed as he walked into the clubhouse.
“Hey guys,” Karkat said, as they all started to filter in, “Good try, there's a bunch more games to go, don’t dwell.”
He heard a few mutterings, and upset looks from the kids, but no outright crying so Karkat would take that as a win. He sat in the room while the kids slowly got collected by parents, finally seeing Dave. It was weird, seeing him in with the hoards of parents, sticking out like a sore thumb. Not only was he a lanky fucker, sticking out in crowds no matter where he was, but he wasn’t really talking to anyone there. The fact that he was half the age of most of the parents didn’t really help the situation, but what could anyone really do?
“Hey little man,” Dave said, walking up to Dirk, “Some good throwing there dude,” holding his hand out for a fist bump.
Dirk just hit Dave’s fist and went back into the fray of the team. Dave spotted Karkat who was talking with another one of the parents about training regimens and their child being 12 years old,when Dave walked over.
“Hey man, that was some good baseball, never seen a baseball game with stakes so high, felt like a true life or death,”
“Have you, seen a baseball game before?” Karkat asked slowly.
Dave just shrugged, “Dirk dragged me to a Mets game when we visited my sister in New York. Mr Met though, a looker.”
Karkat grimaced at Dave, “That’s maybe the worst thing you’ve ever said, and you talk a lot,”
“Good to know you can’t appreciate a real man,”
“I’m kind of disappointed you would two time Mrs Met like that though,”
“No, love Mrs Met, nothing but respect for my queen. Anything to get in the middle of all that,”
“12 year olds,” Karkat said, interrupting whatever train of thought Dave seemed to be going down.
“Sure, yeah, sorry guys,” Dave mumbled, “You get it,”
“I get being attracted to Mr. Met?” Karkat asked, slowly.
“I mean the other ones are like furry monstrosities, so really not a lot of options man,”
Karkat shook his head, laughing, “Sure man, whatever you say.”
Dave grinned at that, like Karkat just said something really insightful, “Yeah, man, I know these things, call me the mascot expert the way I know about mascots.”
“Just go get your brother,”
******************
The next time Karkat saw Dave, was weird. Karkat at a sports bar with his old baseball friends Sollux and Kanaya, watching the White Sox play the Cubs. Kanaya lived and died for the Boston Red Sox, and Sollux told people he was a White Sox fan but honestly had very little stake, so Karkat was the only one who was really invested in the game at that point, getting pointed looks from the other patrons of the bar.
“That was a fucking strike, who trained you, my 12 year olds could umpire better than this dipshit,” Karkat said, pointing angrily at the screen, “At least they know the fucking rules.”
“Woah there,” A voice suddenly came from his right, “Hey Karkat,”
Karkat whipped around to see a familiar blonde dipshit with shades, without a similarly blonde shadow that Karkat is so used to seeing with him.
“Dave,” He said, “What are you doing here?”
“Friends over,” Dave said, pointing at the small group of people he was with, “Wanted to go out for a drink and John was hoping they’d put on a game,”
Karkat paused, “John…” he trailed off, “As in Egbert?”
“The one and only, how do you know John,”
“Baseball,” Karkat said, scanning the little group behind Dave until he heard a loud,
“Karkat” coming from it, and a blue blur flying at him. Karkat grunted as he caught John in his arms.
“Hey man, how long has it been,” John said grinning, “I’m surprised you stayed in Texas!”
“That Southern charm,” Karkat mumbled, “Why are you here,”
“Always want to visit the old college town! Also Dave asked really nicely, and how could you say no to that face,” He said, squeezing Dave’s cheeks, who just let it happen. “Sucks about the Sox dude, bummer,”
“Shut up Mr. My team is the only one in the league who hasn’t been to the world series.”
“Okay stop talking about 2005, who cares, you were barely a person,” John said, “Anyways come sit with us! It’ll be just like college man!”
Karkat sighed, and nodded “Yeah okay, let me just get the others,”
About ten minutes later they were all settled into a tiny booth containing Dave’s sister, and two friends he met online years ago. “How did we never meet man,” Dave asked, “Everyone here was holding out on me,”
John shrugged, “Karkat was mostly doing baseball stuff, busy guy,”
“And now he coaches little league?”
“I’m right here asshole, shit happens, not all of us can keep at the baseball thing forever,” Karkat snapped, staring up at the screen.
Dave shrugged, letting it go, “Whatever, anyways, who’s winning,”
That started Karkat on something again.
***************
The night ended like most other nights involving the White Sox, with 4-5 beers drunk and the White Sox pummeled into the dirt. If only the pope could help them now. Karkat was leaving the bar, with everyone, holding his White Sox cap loosely in his right hand.
“This team is a prison Dave, they’re never winning anything again, the rebuild is never happening, we can’t hit, can’t pitch. Get rid of the fucking team, I don’t even care anymore.”
“You don’t mean that man,” Dave said, “Don’t they have the pope now, the pope team surely has some hitting power deep in there,”
“God could bless this team and it wouldn’t be enough. The pope could come and bless all the water on the field, and turn it all into shitty ballpark beer and it would not be enough to save the Chicago White Sox.”
“He’s lying, this happens every time,” Sollux interjects, “it’s all doom and gloom until they play again the next day and we go through this again”
Karkat glares at Sollux for revealing all his secrets, pulling out his phone to call a taxi.
“Are you okay to get home?” Karkat asked Dave. Dave just nodded, “I’m going back with John, he’s staying with me.”
“Kay if you’re sure,” Karkat said, “I’ll see you later?”
“Yeah man, see you when I see you,” Dave said, jogging off to where John was with his phone out.
Karkat waved after him, and Sollux just looked at him knowingly. “Shut up,” Karkat mumbled, waving at his taxi as it pulled up next to the curb, and Karkat, Sollux and Kanaya climbed in to go to their separate homes.
*****************
Dave had invited Karkat to a baseball game. Karkat didn’t even know how Dave had his number, probably from John, but here he was, standing in front of Daikin Park, with a white sox cap and a dream, following after Dave while they weaved through the crowds.
“You are not Astros fans, you’re barely a baseball fan, why are we even here?” Karkat said.
“Just a good day out man, not everything is life or death baseball,”
“Easy for you to say, some of us suffer for this sport.”
Dave just shrugged letting them settle into their seats.
“Dirk’s been playing well. He’s a great baseball player,” Karkat said suddenly when they had sat down, “I really want him to keep at it, I have him one more year, but you’ll get him on a middle school team won’t you?”
“As I said, I’ll try not to force him, but he likes baseball too, he won’t really stop talking about it, which is weird because before the only things he cared about were those cartoon horses and robots,”
“Eclectic,”
“What I’m saying man, it was like, weird, but if he wants to play baseball, I don’t really see why not.”
“Just needs to develop the pitches he does, and soon he’ll be able to focus on pitching instead of hitting,”
Dave nodded, “Awesome,”
“Oh the first pitch is starting,” Karkat said, turning back towards the field.
The game was an uncharacteristically close game, with the White Sox managing to eke out a win over the Astros in the final inning, so Karkat was buzzing, following Dave out of the stadium.
“That’s what they get for being deeply evil,” Karkat said, grinning at the surrounding Astros fans.
Dave nodded like he understood, walking Karkat over to his car. “Can I give you a ride home?” Karkat asked “You got the tickets, it’s the least I can do,”
“Naw it’s fine, I have to get Dirk from school anyway,”
“Let me come, we’re going to the same place anyways,” Karkat said, “Practice today,”
Dave paused, and then nodded consideringly, “Yeah sure, what the hell, let’s go get Dirk,”
They pulled up outside the elementary school, to see Dirk standing there with his bags, including his kit bag, waiting for Dave, who slid out of the car, bending down and talking to him quietly.
They soon got up and walked over to the car, and Dirk slid into the back seat, “Hey,”
“Hi,” Karkat said, “Are you ready for practice?”
“Yeah,”
“Cool,” Karkat said, “You see the Mets game last night?”
“Don’t bring that up man,” Dave said, “It’s a sore subject in this car right now,”
Karkat just rolled his eyes, reversing out of the school, towards the field. He jumped out, letting Dirk follow him. Dave slid out with them, “Hey Dirk, I’m going to go find Rose around here, I’ll see you after practice?”
Dirk just nodded at him, and walked to the side of the pitch, sitting down.
Karkat smiled, walking over and setting up the equipment again. They were getting ready for another game at the local school nearby. The games were steadily cropping up weekly, driving to the end of the season. Karkat was trying to keep their record up, and teaching consistency, but the games weren’t necessarily about competition, that was a later addition. Karkat was just trying to develop their skills, in a game.
But it was coming up at the end of their short season, and Karkat was feeling a little melancholy about it, sad to see the end of this team, when some kids would leave for the middle schools, and some would stop playing baseball for good.
“Okay guys, we have one of our last games this weekend,” A sad groan echoed through the field, Karkat couldn’t help but grin at that, “We just need to play our best, so lets have a good practice guys,”
*****************
Their final game of the season crept up on them. Little league seasons were short, ending in a blip, and Karkat stood in the clubhouse for a final game of the season. “Good season guys,” He said, “I’m proud of how you have all played this series, good job,”
The other children cheered loudly, and started to line up and walk down to the field. Karkat followed after them, and let the game start. It kind of went how most games went, a lot of balls hit high to right field, and a lot of fielding errors. Their arms were small, they couldn’t throw very hard, but Karkat was enraptured all the same.
He gnawed his lip trying to coach them from his little spot in the dugout, and watched as one after another runs were batted in. He grinned, high fiving every child who ran into the dugout.
The game finally ended a few hours later, with Karkat’s team leading 10-2. He was grinning from ear to ear, and walked into the clubhouse, giving his end of season speech, and pulling out a stack of pizzas he had ordered for the kids to eat to celebrate the series.
He let the parents file in, sitting with their kids as they winded down from the high of the game.
Dave walked in at the end, sidling up to Karkat, “Hey man, that was a good game.”
“Thanks,” Nodded Karkat, “Dirk played well,”
“Yeah,” Dave said, uncharacteristically quietly.
“You okay?” Karkat asked, side eyeing Dave slightly.
“Yeah, um, it was cool that you coached all these kids like that,” Dave started, “would you want to hang out again, like at a proper game or something,”
“Oh,” Karkat said suddenly, hyperaware of the mass of 12 year olds who were walking out of the clubhouse, “Give me like 10 more minutes for everyone to leave,”
Dave nodded, “Yeah, obv, sorry man, go coach the next generation of Babe Ruths or whatever.”
Karkat bit his lip nervously, dropping his eyeline, before looking back towards the parents, waving at them and the kids as they walked passed, with a quiet good job.
When the clubhouse was empty except for him, Dave and Dirk, he looked back towards Dave.
“I’m free next Friday, you have my number, somehow,”
“John Egbert,”
“Of fucking course, no respect,”
Dave just shrugged, “I’ll text you?”
“Yeah, sounds good,”
Dave just nodded, seriously, before grabbing Dirk’s shoulder, “I’ll see you then man,”
“It’s a date,”
Dave nodded, pulling Dirk out after him, to the sound of an 11 year old laughing at him.
Karkat just turned back towards the clubhouse, picking up bats, and clearing the floor.
So, Karkat wouldn’t say he missed playing proper baseball, he had a pretty sweet gig where he was.