He sat in the bleachers with the other parents, the ones who showed up for every game, cheered for every hit, every catch.
That wasn’t him. That wasn’t ever going to be him.
He could lie to himself all day long and say he was just as good a parent. But the list of things he’d rather be doing than sitting here pretending to enjoy this baseball game? Endless.
He watched his son step to the plate, the aluminum bat looking huge in his tiny hands.
What was his next move? He wasn’t sure.
He just knew change was coming.
The Weekday One Hundred 