Major League System

***

In the bustling airport, a figure walked out of the arrivals area with a single black suitcase trailing behind him. He was tall, standing at least 6’6 in height and wore a Detroit Ligers baseball cap atop his head.

On his chin was the signs of a rudimentary beard that was spotted with some black and gray. The figure rubbed his chin, moving his gaze left and right as if looking for someone.

“OH MY GOODNESS! Is that Ken Takagi!?”

Ken froze hearing the shout. The hundreds of people in the vicinity began to look around, as if trying to find him. He turned to where the voice had originated and saw a man in his 30’s wearing a mischievous grin.

A sudden urge to throw his suitcase at the man assaulted him, but he was able to hold back his anger at the last moment. He quickly jogged forward before anyone was able to recognize him.

“You bastard, are you trying to make me miss my son’s game?” Ken complained, forcefully nudging Steve on his way past.

“Bro, the game has already started. You’re the only one who is late.” Steve replied, shrugging his shoulders.

Ken cursed under his breath, “Then what are you waiting for? Let’s go already.”

“Yes sir!” Steve said with a grin.

The two hopped into the rental car and drove off from the airport, their destination East Cobb field. If it were not for some delays, Ken would have gotten to the field an hour before the game began.

These old friends traveled in companionable silence for a while before Steve spoke up.

“How’s the shoulder?”

Ken chuckled dryly, his friend surely didn’t waste time getting to the meat of his issues.

“It’s alright, could be better.” Ken admitted, massaging his right shoulder.

Steve shook his head, “I still don’t know why you didn’t retire yet man. Haven’t you done everything already? 15 years in the league is already an achievement to be proud of.”

“What can I say? I love baseball too much to give it up completely.” Ken replied wistfully.

“No one said anything about giving it up… Didn’t you get your coaching certification a few years ago? Couldn’t you transition to coaching after you retire?”

Ken scoffed, “You think its that easy to get a coaching gig?”

The subject continued for a while as the two went back and forth over and over. Soon enough, they were close to East Cob field, but the parking lot was completely full.

“I’ll drop you off and go find a parking spot. Let’s hope you didn’t miss the whole game.” Steve said, flashing him a grin.

“Alright thanks. I’ll see you a bit later.” Ken said, alighting from the small rental car.

As he walked down the pathway to the main field, Ken could already see that the place was filled with spectators. Seeing the old field where his Gladiators had won the WWBA tournament all those years ago, Ken felt nostalgic.

It had been over 20 years since he was here last.

Ken approached the fence of the field, a few rows back. Thanks to his height, he was clearly able to see over the other spectators.

His eyes moved to the scoreboard and he gave a wry smile. It seemed like that bottom of the 8th had just finished and the teams were in the midst of changing over.

It was then that he saw Kenji walking onto the field, his expression looking a little downcast. Seeing this, Ken frowned. Why did his son seem so distracted in the middle of a baseball game?

‘Did something happen?’ Ken thought, his eyes scanning the crowd.

He happened to see a few familiar faces in the crowd. Ai, Yuki, Miho, Mark, Tetsu and Naomi. Apart from Daichi, everyone seemed to be present.

There were no free seats around them, so Ken decided to stay where he was for now since he didn’t want to disrupt the game. At least no one would recognize him where he was standing.

“Play ball.”

The umpire called for play to resume.

On the mound, Kenji let out a deep breath and raised his left leg before kicking off the plate. His lead foot planted on the ground before his arm whipped past his face.

WHOOOOOSH

WHACK!

The first pitch was struck soundly, flying into deep right field and beating the fielder. Only after the runner advanced to second base did the ball make it back into the infield.

A few of the spectators in front of Ken let out a groan of disappointment.

“He gave up another hit? What’s wrong with Kenji today?”

“The kid looks a little off, I hope he’s not injured or something.”

However, Ken who knew his son the best felt his face flush with anger. This was not the pitching action that he had taught him, it was far too sloppy and amateur.

With his expert eye, Ken could tell that the pitch his son had thrown was barely at 80mph. There was no way that such a speed was acceptable, even if it was against other 15 year olds.

The ball returned to Kenji who easily caught it on the mound. The kid picked up the rosin bag and rolled it around in his right hand a few times before tossing it aside.

But even as he turned towards the new batter, Kenji seemed off. He took one more look into the crowd before letting out a sigh.

Seeing this, Ken knew that he needed to do something to snap Kenji out of his slump. He thought for a few moments before taking a deep breath.

“Kiai wo misero!”1

The words echoed over the field, instantly drawing the attention of everyone in the vicinity, including Kenji on the mound. His gaze snapped towards his father before a brilliant smile appeared on his face.

“HAI!” Kenji shouted, bowing towards him.

Ken felt hundreds of eyes on him, but he didn’t care. If he couldn’t do something like this for his son, then what kind of father was he?

This phrase literally means “Show us your spirit!” or “Show your fighting spirit!”