The afternoon sun cast long shadows on the baseball field as I stood with a clipboard in hand, ready to welcome a new face to our team. Amidst the usual din of playful shouts and the crash of baseballs hitting bats, Mrs. Finkle walked up with the boy, who had the hesitant look of someone who wasn’t quite sure where he belonged. As they approached, she introduced him as Robert, a new student eager to try out for the baseball team. There was something about him that struck a chord with me, a sense of familiarity that I couldn’t immediately place. I pushed these thoughts aside, determined to focus on my exams.
Robert’s arrival on the field was like a breath of fresh air. His enthusiasm was palpable and it wasn’t long before he was cracking jokes and mingling like he was always part of the team. His ability to connect with other kids was remarkable and his baseball skills were undeniable. He made an impression not only on me but on everyone present.
“Coach Givens?” There she was, Mrs. Finkle, and a boy I had never seen before, I turned to look. Robert here and I’m a brand new pupil. After the transfer at the beginning of the week, he wants to try out the team.”
Great! Nice to meet you, Robert. Once we’ve finished these sets, let’s see what you can manage. But don’t worry, you’ll fit right in,” I replied, offering him a reassuring smile, which he returned.
Mrs. Finkle returned to her office and Robert and several other children sat down. But there was something oddly familiar about the new kid sitting in the dugout as I turned to face him. I couldn’t place it where I thought I’d seen it before. I pushed the feeling aside and refocused on the exercise. Robert was an instant hit in baseball, so he immediately joined the club. He was gregarious and the other boys laughed at almost everything he said. The day was going smoothly until the parents started arriving.
It hit me like a ton of bricks when I witnessed Robert walk up to the woman with a friendly smile on his face and give him a gentle hug. The boy really reminded me of my ex-girlfriend Emily.
“But he can’t be, can he?” I muttered to myself, but it seemed more plausible the more I considered it. Ten years ago, we were both stunned by Emily’s pregnancy. At seventeen, having children seemed like a big deal. Emily decided to carry the pregnancy to term as our parents were against abortion and unfortunately, she died in childbirth.
When they realized how deeply it affected me, my parents pushed for adoption, but her parents, who were inconsolable, would not have contact with the child. Despite my deep confusion over Emily’s life sacrifice for our child and my love for him, I eventually gave him up due to the demands of my situation and lack of money. I made an extremely painful choice.
It is possible that my regrets about this decision increased my passion for teaching and interacting with children my son’s age.
The idea that Robert could be my son seemed ludicrous because there was only a passing resemblance and a shared interest. I tried to convince myself that it was all a coincidence, even though I couldn’t see myself in it, by telling myself that my son had inherited Emily’s blonde hair and green-blue eyes.
The child, with his strong features and bright green eyes, did not look like Robert. How had I not noticed him all these years? What happens when the desire to adopt a child reveals a long-kept secret or when family bonds are strengthened by an amazing coincidence? Perhaps this is proof that everyone in the universe ultimately has a purpose.
When circumstances arise that we never expected, it can be difficult to distinguish between what we want and what is meant to be. The stories of a grieving mother who finds her deceased daughter’s twin, a couple who learns about their child’s secret sibling, and the happy reunion of a teenage father and son are all riveting explorations of the highs and lows of love, loss, and chance.
1. I found the boy I had to give up and got the whole family
“Go fast, Josh! You have to use all your strength to swing the bat. You can do it!” The nine-year-old was ready for me to yell at him.
I never saw myself coaching the little league baseball team at my former elementary school at the age of 27. Working with children was never something I thought I wanted to do when I was younger.
And yet here I was when I discovered this job, which turned out to be far more rewarding than sitting in a classroom all day. After getting my degree in education, I spent a few years teaching English to kids who didn’t seem to care. I gave up.
The coaching post was made available to me by a friend who knew how long I had been playing ball. It seemed destined.
Everything worked perfectly and I enjoyed every minute. I’ve been doing this for a while so I haven’t seen anything else done.
However, there were problems with this work. Reassuring the kids over and over that they could do anything they put their minds to takes a lot of patience.
Use little Josh as an illustration. He was quiet and reserved, more of a bookworm, and only joined the section because his parents made him.
I could see that the kid made a promise, even though he seemed afraid of being hit by the ball. I hoped she would stop crying and concentrate on the game.
When he finally hit the ball and drove it farther than anyone expected, his face lit up with excitement and he raced to first base. Josh, great job! It’s true, really. I screamed across the field, beaming and clapping.
As the baseball season progressed, the sense of community and camaraderie between the team members grew, as did my bond with the kids, especially Robert. Watching Robert and the other children develop their skills and gain confidence on the field has become a source of great pride and joy. Despite the lingering question of Robert’s identity, I found solace in the positive impact I had on these young lives.
The possibility that Robert could be my son lingered in the back of my mind, a low whisper that occasionally disturbed the peace of my daily routine. Still, I chose to focus on the role I played as a coach, mentor, and maybe even father figure to him and the other kids, which was fulfilling in itself. Whether fate brought my biological son back into my life or not didn’t change the fact that I had a responsibility to all these children, to inspire and encourage them, just as I would have done it myself.
One sunny afternoon as the season drew to a close, I watched the kids laugh and play, their families cheering them on from the stands. I was struck by how life’s unexpected twists and turns often lead us to where we need to be. Regardless of the unsolved mysteries and uncharted paths, I was exactly where I belonged.
At that moment, I realized that every throw, every catch, and every game wasn’t just about baseball—it was about healing, growing, and embracing life’s uncertainties. And as for Robert, the bond we formed was real and deep, defined not by blood but by shared experiences and mutual respect that flourished between us.
As I called the team together for a final pep rally, I felt a deep sense of gratitude for the twists of fate that had brought me to this place. Not only did I find a rewarding career, but I also unwittingly embarked on a journey of personal redemption and discovery. Whether Robert was my son or just a boy who needed guidance, our paths crossed for a reason and I was grateful for the opportunity to make a difference in his life, as well as the lives of all the kids I coached.
Life, like baseball, is ultimately unpredictable and full of surprises. But with every swing, every hit, and every play, we learn something more about ourselves and the world around us. And sometimes, just sometimes, we find exactly what we didn’t know we were looking for.