Bear Mascots & Broken Bats

Jordan's hands shook as he gripped the vitamin D supplement his mom insisted would help with "seasonal depression"—as if being the only junior who hadn't hooked up with anyone at Northwood High was somehow weather-related.

"Yo, you tryin' out for baseball?" Marcus leaned against the locker next to him, snapback perfectly positioned. "Tryouts are today. Coach Swenson's going full bear mode, I'm not even kidding."

Jordan stuffed the vitamin bottle in his backpack. "I was thinking about it."

"Bro, you've been 'thinking about it' since freshman year." Marcus grinned. "Rumor is Swenson literally growled at a sophomore yesterday. That's why they call him The Bear. Also, the whole mascot thing, but mostly the growling."

The baseball field stretched out like a green promise under the hazy spring sun. Jordan stood in the outfield line, his heart doing that fluttery thing it did whenever he thought about actually trying to be good at something visible.

Coach Swenson—The Bear himself—paced behind home plate, his bulk swallowed by a too-small coaching shirt. "Alright, listen up! I want to see hustle. I want to see heart. I don't want to see you staring at your phones like a bunch of zombies."

Jordan's turn came. He stepped to the plate, the bat feeling wrong in his hands, too heavy and too light at the same time. The pitcher wound up. Fastball.

*CRACK.*

The ball sailed into the gap. Jordan ran, legs pumping, lungs burning, everything falling away except this moment, this singular perfect feeling of being exactly where he was supposed to be. Safe at second.

"Not bad, kid." The Bear's voice was a low rumble. "You got natural power. Ever think about playing?"

Jordan's chest swelled. "I've been thinking about it."

"Stop thinking, start doing." Coach Swenson's eyes crinkled. "That's what baseball teaches you. You can think about the pitch all you want, but sooner or later, you gotta swing."

That night, Jordan took his vitamin. Mom was right about some things—he did need something to help him grow. But maybe it wasn't just a supplement. Maybe it was stepping into the batter's box, taking a deep breath, and swinging for the fences even when your hands shook.

He texted Marcus: I'm doing it. I'm trying out.

Marcus replied instantly: bet. let's get it.

For the first time in forever, Jordan fell asleep without his phone in his hand.