BASEBALL: HARD WORK — Chapter 1 (Rewritten)The stadium thrummed with energy. Today's matchup—Dodgers vs. Diamondbacks—was expected to be good, but the real excitement was centered on the rookie taking the mound for the first time in the majors.
Zachariah Miller.
Twenty-two years old.
And the first ambidextrous pitcher in MLB history.
The umpire barked, "PLAY BALL!"
Zach stood on the mound, heels planted in fresh clay, cap brim shadowing his steady eyes. He inhaled the scent of cut grass and leather.
Hard to believe I made it here… time really flew.
Years Before…A small sports center in a simple town.
A four-year-old boy with messy blond hair poking out from a Cubs cap bounced a rubber ball against a wall. Over and over. Focused. Determined. Oblivious to everything else.
Someone watched him from a parked car, eyebrows raised.
Ding. 1,000 throws completed.
Ding. 1,000 catches completed.
The boy—Zachariah Miller—wiped sweat from his brow and headed toward the entrance. He paused, saw the watcher, waved shyly, and ran inside.
"Mom!" he called.
His mother—Priscilla, early twenties, blond, blue-eyed, exhausted but beautiful—turned, smiled, and knelt to wipe sweat from his face.
"You're soaked," she said. "You shouldn't work yourself so hard. You're still little."
"Mom, I'm five. If I don't work hard now, how am I gonna go pro?"
Before she could respond, the bell above the door jingled. A man in his late twenties walked in wearing sunglasses and a local high school baseball jersey.
"Picking up the order for the team," he said.
"All right, Mr. Jackson—"
He winced. "Please. Call me Ethan. I'm not that old."
Zach disappeared into the back before his mom could stop him. He returned carrying a box so large he had to wobble to keep it balanced. Behind him followed Thomas, the store owner—mid-fifties, big smile, bigger heart.
"Hey Thomas," Ethan said. "How's business?"
"Better since this little guy started helping out," Thomas said happily, ruffling Zach's hair.
Zach dodged with a pout. Everyone laughed.
Ethan checked the uniforms. "Good work as always."
"These aren't for the school," he added. "I bought them myself. The kids deserve something nice."
Priscilla raised an eyebrow but said nothing.
Then Ethan knelt to Zach's level. "Saw you outside. How's that old ball holding up?"
Zach froze. His mom gave him the tell the truth face.
Thomas stepped in. "Go get a new ball, kiddo. On the house."
"Thomas, you can't keep doing that," Priscilla scolded. "You pay me too much already."
"He helps more than half my employees," Thomas said. "And I can't legally pay him. This is fair trade."
Zach pulled the worn-out ball from his pocket. It was so shredded it looked like sandpaper.
Thomas dropped it. It didn't bounce.
Ethan threw it harder. Barely waist-high.
"What were you doing with this thing?" Ethan asked.
Zach hesitated. "I… put sand in it. So it wouldn't bounce into the street."
"You were using a weighted ball?" Ethan's eyebrows shot up. "At age five?!"
"It's so I don't lose it," Zach explained. "I can't go into the street alone yet."
Priscilla's eyes widened. "Is that how you lost your first ball?"
Zach nodded. "But I didn't run into the street! You taught me better."
She melted. He smiled slyly—sweet words work every time.
Ethan laughed. "Wanna play catch?"
Zach lit up—then frowned. "I don't have a glove."
"Grab one from the shelf," Thomas said. "Just for today."
Zach came back with a catcher's mitt. The adults laughed.
"That's a catcher's glove," his mother said.
"I know," Zach said proudly. "That's the position I want."
Ethan noticed it was for left-handed players. "Go grab the right-handed one."
"I'm ambidextrous," Zach said. "I need to train both sides."
Ethan raised an eyebrow. We'll see.
Outside, Ethan didn't take a glove.
"Against a kid? I'll be fine."
Zach frowned. Don't say I didn't warn you.
His throw was a laser. It hit Ethan square in the chest with a brutal THUD.
Ethan staggered back, coughing.
Zach quietly retrieved the ball, head down.
Ethan went to his car.
Zach's heart sank—I messed everything up.
But then—
"Hey! Where are you going? I'm just grabbing my glove!"
They played for half an hour. Zach threw harder each time. Ethan threw harder back.
During one catch, Zach heard a gentle ping inside his head:
"First time playing catch: +1 point. Shop unlocked."
He didn't know why, but he felt warm and happy.
Priscilla eventually came outside. "Time to go, sweetheart."
Zach thanked Ethan with perfect manners. Ethan told Priscilla:
"Your kid's special. He's got power and control. Don't know how long he's been practicing, but… he's something."
Priscilla sighed and, for the first time, shared the truth.
She told Ethan about struggling alone, about not knowing her son was practicing and helping the store behind her back, about how Thomas had given her a job and her son hope.
Tears blurred her eyes as she whispered, "I didn't even know my boy was leaving the house. I… wasn't being a good mother. So I got clean. For him."
Before Ethan could respond—
"MOM! THOMAS SAID I CAN KEEP THE GLOVE!"
Priscilla didn't even look. "No."
Zach grinned. "Already put it back! Let's go before he changes his mind!"
He grabbed her hand and dragged her home. Priscilla waved goodbye to Ethan as her son pulled her down the sidewalk