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Tyler loved baseball.
Especially playing baseball with his dad while Taylor and his mom watched in pretty dresses as he hit a home run.
He was amazing at baseball, and he owed it all to his dad. Every day, without fail, Tyler would ask the same question and get the same answer:
“Can we play baseball, Dad?”
“Of course, Ty.”
Even when his dad was busy, he’d find a way to play with his son. After all, he knew it was the least he could do before he had to leave them.
It was another beautiful spring day, a perfect day to go out on the field (or, in boring terms, the backyard) and play some baseball. Tyler walked up to his dad, who was reading on the couch, and gave him the look, the one that meant baseball time.
“Dad, can we—” Before Tyler could even finish, his dad was two steps ahead.
“Play baseball?” Ethan closed his book and set it on the table. “Sure, Ty.”
They went outside and started playing, and soon, it was Tyler’s turn to bat. His dad called him a slugger, but to Tyler, his dad was the best pitcher he had ever met. He could throw fastballs, breaking balls, off-speed pitches, you name it.
Tyler stepped up to the base, tapped it twice with his bat, and got into position.
“You ready, Ty?” his dad asked with a grin.
“Born ready,” Tyler answered, his confidence so strong you’d think he was the greatest player alive.
His dad pitched, and Tyler swung—CRACK. The ball soared over the backyard fence. Tyler watched in awe, thrilled at his accomplishment. He ran toward his dad, eager to celebrate, but stopped a few feet away.
His dad was doubled over, clutching his chest, coughing violently.
“D-Dad…?” Tyler stammered as his father collapsed to the ground.
“DAD!!” he screamed as tears filled his eyes.
Then, everything blurred.
Sirens.
Crying.
Talking.
Yelling.
More crying.
Sobbing.
It was too much.
Before Tyler knew it, he was clutching Taylor’s hand, his leg bouncing anxiously in the hospital waiting room.
When they were finally allowed to see their dad, he was in bad shape. Taylor and their mom, Mariana, sobbed as they clung to him, but Tyler just stood there, dried tears on his face, staring.
He was mad.
Mad that his dad had collapsed in the middle of their game.
Mad that he hadn’t even seen Tyler’s amazing home run.
Mad that he was leaving despite promising he’d always be there for Tyler and Taylor.
Tyler hated broken promises.
“Mariana, Taylor, do you mind giving me a moment with Ty?”
Taylor and Mariana nodded, leaving the room.
Tyler was alone now with the one person he didn’t want to see.
“Hey, Ty,” his dad said with a weak smile.
“Don’t call me that right now,” Tyler muttered, staying as far away as possible.
His dad sighed. “That was a great home run you hit back there.”
“Can’t you take this seriously, Dad?!” Tyler snapped.
Ethan studied his son for a moment before sighing. “Look, Tyler, I know you’re upset, but you have to understand—”
“Understand what? That you’re leaving me, Taylor, and Mom?! That you’re breaking your promise?!” Tyler’s fists clenched.
“I didn’t think it would get this bad…” Ethan admitted.
“Then why didn’t you try to get help?!” Tyler’s voice cracked as fresh tears spilled down his cheeks. “I don’t want you to leave…”
Ethan hesitated, then simply opened his arms.
Tyler stepped forward, and they hugged.
“It’s gonna be okay, Ty,” Ethan murmured. “When have you ever doubted me? I’ll always be here for you, kid.”
“I promise.”
Tyler never thought he’d have to go to a funeral.
But here he was, watching as his mom and twin sister sobbed over his father’s tombstone.
When they got home, Tyler went to the backyard. He grabbed his bat, tossed a ball into the air, and swung.
But this time, there was no joy.
No dad, smiling as he pitched.
No sister or mom cheering in pretty dresses.
No love for the game.
Baseball was just a sport now.
And he hated it.
Tyler hated baseball.