Dottie was glad to have Bob home. The war raged on and her friends’ husbands were still out there in England and Italy and the Pacific but she had Bob. Sometimes she felt guilty to be so relieved that Bob was home, that the war a little more distant for her than it was for her friends.

Bob got a job as a supervisor at a munitions factory and Dottie spent the winter volunteering with the USO and setting up housekeeping. She was content that winter, happy and domestic.

One day, as she was walking home from a USO meeting at Emily’s, she passed a playing field. She felt an ache so deep she had to stop for a minute and just stare at the young kids as they ran around the diamond. It wasn’t organized but it was baseball.

She spent the next three days pre-occupied. She cooked and cleaned and attended her meetings but her mind was elsewhere.

On the fourth day over supper, Bob brought it up.

“Dottie, what’s wrong,” Bob said.

“Just a little pre-occupied,” Dottie said.

“It’s more than that,” Bob said. “I’m your husband and I’m worried about you.”

Dottie set her fork down and took a deep breath.

“I want to go back,” Dottie said.

“To baseball,” Bob said.

“Yes,” Dottie said. “Kit wrote me and said that tryouts start in two weeks.”

“You should go,” Bob said.

“I know you need me around here-I should go,” Dottie said. “What about managing the house?”

“Mrs. Horn has two sisters living with her while their husbands are overseas. I’m sure they could use a little extra money. I approached them yesterday in fact. They would be happy to help.”

“I’d be leaving you,” Dottie said. “Who would take care of you?”

“You love baseball,” Bob said.

We have all our lives to be together. You should play while you still can.”

Ten days later, after frantic packing and last minute doubts, Dottie boarded a train for Chicago and tryouts.

Tryouts started. Dottie showed up and was assigned #32 on the blue squad. The team mingled for a bit. There were ten pitchers, six outfielders and eight infielders gossiping and trying not to show how nervous they were. To her surprise, Jimmy was running the blue team’s tryouts.

“Number 32,” he yelled. “Get behind the plate.”

Dottie rushed to get the rest of her gear on and went to stand next to Jimmy by the plate.

“32,” he said. “You’re catching for blue.”

“All of them?” Dottie said. “That’ll be hours.”

“Well, you better start now,” Jimmy said. He moved away from the plate.

Dottie spent the next four hours coaching pitchers. Some of them were good, she already had a sense that they would make the team. Some of them weren’t so good, she would be sad when they were cut but a little relieved to at not having to chase after balls in the dirt. Some of them couldn’t find the strike zone with a map and all the coaching that Dottie could give them.

At the end of the day, Dottie was tired and covered in dirt. Her knees hurt and her back ached. She had never felt better in her life.

“Number 32,” Jimmy yelled. “Walk with me.”

Dottie trotted over to Jimmy. Jimmy was chomping on his gum. He looked her straight in the eye.

“Are you sticking around this time,” he said.

“Bob and I worked it out before I arrived for tryouts,” Dottie said. “If you-the league- will have me, I’m here for the season.”

“A full season,” Jimmy said.

“All 50 games,” she said. “I can’t promise next season but I can this one.”

“Congratulation,” Jimmy said. “You made today’s cut. Show up ninety minutes before general call.”

Dottie showed up at 7:30 that morning, dressed and ready to go. She walked out onto the field where Jimmy was already waiting for her.

“You don’t need all that gear right now,” Jimmy said. “Come sit in the stands with me.”

Dottie took off her face mask and shin guards. She followed Jimmy into the stands.

“What did you think about #10,” Jimmy asked.

“#10?” Dottie said.

“From yesterday. Why do you think I made you take all those pitchers?’ Jimmy said.

“I thought you were giving me a cowpie assignment,” Dottie said.

“Oh, I was,” Jimmy said. “But your opinion on pitchers is better than any idiot on this field.”

“#10 releases the ball to early. She can’t locate with that motion. #17 has a good motion but not enough arm strength. #2 is just a lost cause.”

Jimmy chuckled. He showed Dottie the notebook she’d seen him carrying around yesterday. Written inside it were the same things that Dottie had said, only in more colorful language.

“I’m going to have you work with more pitchers today,” Jimmy said. “We cut a bunch already and we know a dozen we are keeping.”

“So I get to work with the borderline ones,” Dottie said.

“Do it for your country,” Jimmy said. “We have to keep the people entertained. Bad pitching is never entertaining.”

“The bruises I have agree with you,” Dottie said.

Jimmy clapped her on the back and watched Dottie wince.

“We have to toughen you up before the season begins,” Jimmy said.

Dottie made the Peaches as both the starting catcher and the pitching coach. As spring turned to summer, she traveled the country talking with Jimmy on bus trips as everyone else slept or gossiped. They talked mostly about who was on a hot streak and who was slowing down, who was hiding an injury and who was going to break out. Sometimes she talked about Bob though.

Once, late at night Jimmy talked about his career and how he wanted to run the bases one last time.

Jimmy never directly complimented her on how she handled the pitching staff but he was quick to compliment the pitchers as the season wore on.

Dottie got to smell sun warmed grass, hear the crowds cheer and watch her pitchers get better and better. In the end though, The Peaches missed the play-offs by one game.

Dottie and the team went out to dinner one last time. There were tears and hugs and vows to write each other.

The day before her train left, she and Jimmy went to lunch.

“See you next year,” Jimmy said at the end of the meal.

Dottie smiled.

She did see Jimmy that next year. She got pregnant over the winter and he took a game off during a road trip to come for the christening, bringing a small kid’s sized glove as a present.

Dottie never played organized baseball again.