the greatest game on earth

[notplaying]

Toby had walked out of the compound feeling satisfied with the day. He was done. Basically. He just needed to corral the island's citizens in one place for an hour and tell them that. More or less

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[first_worde]

Rupert had heard the sound of something wood hitting something small, leather and compact from what could have been miles away. He made a beeline for it, some primal force in him driving him toward sport, and he came through the treeline to see a man who looked like a professor from the academy hitting a small white ball down the shoreline with a proper bat.

"Brilliant," he said, jogging over. "What's this?"

[notplaying]

"Baseball," Toby answer, turning his wrists and giving the bat a roundabout kind of swing.

"Do you know it?"

[first_worde]

"Um," Rupert said, squinting at the set up, looking around.

"Someone throws the ball at you, and you hit it with the bat. Once the ball's in play, you... run around the bases a certain number of times? Without coming into contact with the ball."

[notplaying]

"...yyyeah, pretty much," Toby said, eying the young man, who he would grudgingly have described as 'strapping'.

"You catch on quick." He tossed the kid the bat and headed for the pitcher's mound.

[neptune_noir]

"I think we should have the giant robot make us a field," Keith said, his own bat resting on his shoulder. He maybe hadn't put it down since he found it yesterday. Or the glove. Or the ball.

It had made eating slightly awkward.

[notplaying]

"You too?" Toby asked, approvingly, nodding over to Keith's gear.

"That's not a bad idea. Probably wouldn't take too long. Clear some trees, transplant some moss."

[neptune_noir]

"Me too," Keith confirmed, hefting it slightly. "And if we build it, they might come. ...they, knowing the island, being some baseball players who had the help of angels to save their field from being developed by evil developers, but it'd be something."

[notplaying]

"As long as it's not any of those damn kids from any of those damn Disney movies about damn kids paying baseball," Toby said.

"Pitch or hit?" he asked.

[with_diamonds]

Despite her having never been a huge fan of beaches, Lucy had taken to spending more time there. As such, she was sitting cross-legged on a small blanket with a book of Thoreau's essays when she noticed Toby, looking up only when she heard the bat hit the ball.

"Nice one," she called, shielding her eyes from the sun with one hand, a bright smile on her face. "Presents from the island?"

[notplaying]

"Yeah," Toby called back. "Go get that ball back and I'll let you hit a few."

This was great incentive for fourteen year olds. He didn't know if the same applied to young women.

[with_diamonds]

It was a little-known fact that, having grown up with a brother only two years older than her, that Lucy had been fairly athletic up until she left school. So, folding over the corner of the page she was on, she hopped up to grab the ball.

"Sounds like a deal," she said, as she brought it over to Toby. "But you better go easy on me, I haven't played in ages."

[notplaying]

"Fair enough," he said, handing her the bat and grabbing a mitt. He headed off for the pitcher's mound, such as it presently was.

"As long as you don't go find Mickey mantle and get him to play on your team, I'll go easy."

[playingstupid]

He had recognized the scrawl on the bulletin board, but he hadn't believed it. He followed the directions, moving faster as he got closer to the beach. No. No way. It's not--

He froze at the edge of the trees when he heard it-- CRACK- he blinked up into the sun, and his heart ached for a moment, memories flooding back. He watched the ball sail across the sky and a slow smile spread across his face, until his dimples deepeened. Baseball.

He let out a whoop of joy and dropped his overshirt and sandals by the trees, sauntering quickly towards Toby. He called out- "I'll be damned." It might have been the light, but for a second there, he almost thought Toby was smiling.

[notplaying]

Toby pointed at Josh with the baseball bat, then swung it in an arch to point to the pitcher's mound.

"Get a mitt."

[playingstupid]

If Josh's grin could get any bigger, it did. His face felt like it was going to bust in two. He jogged over, grabbed a mitt, and then hit the mound. Toby had already left a few balls, so he reached down, feeling the warmth of the leather. Hell, yes. He tossed it lightly in the air before catching it, grinning. He turned his shoulder to Toby, his arm curling up in a pitcher's stance. He needed to get loose, but he let one loose just to remind him of how it felt.

[notplaying]

Toby lifted the bat to signal he wanted one high and outside, although knowing Josh, it would probably be aimed at his ear. Still, he stanced himself and lifted the bat, keeping his wrists loose.

"Come on, Connecticut."

[sir_samuel]

Vimes didn't know what what baseball was, but he'd recognized the writing, and Young Sam had been getting restless anyway. "How 'bout we see what kinda crazy Zeigler's up to this time," he suggested to his son.

"Kinna crazy?" Young Sam returned thoughtfully.

"You got that right." He scooped Sam up, the toddler was wiggling to get free again by the time they reached the strange formation of squares. Vimes put him down and raised his brows. "Base... ball?"

Young Sam, meanwhile, picked up one of the balls as it rolled out of the duffel bag and cheerfully bit it.

[notplaying]

"The greatest sport ever invented by man," Toby told him. "My country's pastime. Started playing it in a sandlot behind a meatpacker's when I was six, never turned back." He watched Young Sam for a long moment, expression slightly shadowed by the way he held his head, before he ducked it, swallowing, and then forced a slight smile.

"Already have the twins into it."

[sir_samuel]

"That so?" Vimes looked skeptical. But then again, he usually looked skeptical. "How does it work?"

Young Sam, realizing he was being watched, smiled and kindly held the ball out to Toby. "For you?"

[notplaying]

Toby knelt, and held one hand out a reasonable distance for Sam to lob it, because he actually knew how well two year olds- almost three, really- threw.

"Can you throw it to me?"