“Yeah, Hollis, I wanna watch you hit,” Vilade said.
Hollis dismissed Vilade's quandaries. He looked out over the playground, wobbling an invisible bat over his shoulder, eyes locked with an invisible pitcher. He unleashed a mighty swing.
“Hey, Hollis, that was —”
Before Vilade completed the compliment, the boy took off. He had to score. He charged a basketball hoop, rounding it as he headed toward the middle of the playground. In a full sprint, he approached the slides then turned toward Vilade, heading home.
Hollis slid at the coach's feet and looked up, making sure Vilade knew what he witnessed.