Walsh Family Universe V2

Chapter 35
Championship Game

"Big news!" Patrick announced at dinner Tuesday evening. "Your team made it to the championship game!"

Ash looked up from his chicken nuggets. "Championship?"

"The Little Sluggers have the best record in the league. This Sunday is the final game—winner takes the trophy!" Patrick was grinning. "And Coach Mike says you're starting as shortstop. That's a big deal, buddy."

Shannon clapped her hands. "That's wonderful! We should invite the family. They'd love to see you play in a championship."

Ash felt his stomach drop. His whole family. Again. But this time for an actual championship game where he'd be starting, where everyone would be watching him specifically.

"Do we have to invite everyone?"

"Of course! This is a special occasion." Shannon was already pulling out her phone. "I'll text them right now."

The week leading up to Sunday felt different. Coach Mike ran more focused practices, working on specific plays and positioning. Patrick spent extra time in the backyard with Ash, practicing grounders and throws.

"You've got to be ready," Patrick said, rolling the ball toward Ash. "Shortstop is a key position. Lots of action. You field it, throw to first. Simple, but important."

Ash fielded the grounder cleanly, threw to the makeshift first base they'd set up. The ball landed right where it should.

"Perfect! That's exactly what I want to see." Patrick beamed. "You're going to do great on Sunday."

At school, Mrs. Brennan mentioned it during show-and-tell. "Noam, I heard your team is in the championship game! That's very exciting."

Emma bounced in her seat. "We're going to win! Noam's our best player!"

"I'm not the best player."

"Yes you are!" Emma insisted. "You hit the most home runs and you catch everything!"

Marcus nodded quietly. "You're really good."

Even the other kids seemed impressed. Tyler high-fived him at recess. Sofia asked if she could come watch. Ash found himself feeling... proud? Nervous? Both?

Thursday night, Shannon pulled out a special shirt she'd ordered—a Little Sluggers jersey with "WALSH 7" on the back. His number.

"For the championship," she said, holding it up. "You'll look like a real ballplayer!"

It was nicer than the regular team shirt. Actual jersey material, proper lettering. Ash touched the fabric, feeling that complicated mix of emotions.

"Thanks," he said quietly.

Sunday morning arrived sunny and warm—perfect baseball weather. Shannon made a special breakfast: protein pancakes and fruit, the pregame meal Patrick had researched for optimal energy.

"Big day!" Patrick said, already wearing his coach volunteer shirt. "How are you feeling?"

"Nervous."

"That's good. Nerves mean you care." Patrick squeezed his shoulder. "But you're ready. You've practiced hard, you know the plays, and your team believes in you."

In the car, Ash wore his new jersey. Shannon had put it on him with obvious pride, adjusting it carefully, taking pictures before they left.

At the field, there was a different energy. Both teams warming up with intensity. Parents filling the bleachers. Someone had put up a banner: "CHAMPIONSHIP GAME - Little Sluggers vs Thunder Cats."

And there, in the bleachers, was his entire family.

Claire with Sophie in a carrier, Marcus beside her. Cathy with her boyfriend. Declan looking less uncomfortable than usual, actually seeming interested. Eden with a Little Sluggers pennant she must have bought from the concession stand.

Shannon waved them over before heading to sit with them. Patrick stayed on the field with Ash.

"Your cheering section is here," Patrick said, grinning. "They came to see you shine."

Coach Mike gathered the team. "Alright, Sluggers! This is it! We've worked hard all season. We've gotten better every game. Now we get to show everyone what we can do!" He looked at each kid. "Remember—have fun, support your teammates, and play your best. That's all I ask."

The Little Sluggers put their hands in the center. "Sluggers on three! One, two, three—"

"SLUGGERS!"

The game started with the Thunder Cats batting first. Ash took his position at shortstop, crouching the way Patrick had taught him, glove ready.

From the bleachers, he could hear his family. Eden's voice calling "Go Noam!" Claire clapping. Even Declan seemed engaged.

First batter hit a grounder right to Ash. He fielded it cleanly, threw to first. Out!

"YES!" Patrick pumped his fist. "That's how you start a championship!"

His family went wild. Ash could hear Eden cheering, Cathy whistling, Claire calling "That's my little brother!"

The inning continued. Ash fielded two more grounders, both successful. When the Little Sluggers came up to bat, they were pumped.

Emma was first up. She hit a solid single and ran to first, beaming.

Marcus hit a grounder that got him to first, moving Emma to second.

Then it was Ash's turn.

He stepped up to the tee, aware of every eye on him. His family in the stands. His teammates in the dugout. Coach Mike and Patrick watching with expectation.

The ball sat on the tee, waiting.

Ash took a breath. Positioned his feet. Gripped the bat.

CRACK.

The ball sailed over the infield, into deep outfield. The Thunder Cats scrambled for it.

"RUN!" Patrick and Coach Mike shouted together.

Ash ran. Emma scored from second. Marcus scored from first. Ash rounded first, heading for second. The throw was coming but he was faster. He slid into second base just before the tag.

"SAFE!" The umpire called. "RBI double!"

The Little Sluggers dugout erupted. From the stands, Ash's family was on their feet, screaming and cheering.

"THAT'S MY BROTHER!" Claire shouted, Sophie's carrier bouncing as she jumped.

"GO NOAM!" Eden waved her pennant frantically.

Even Declan was clapping, a genuine smile on his face.

Patrick was beside himself with pride, high-fiving other parents, pointing to Ash on second base.

The game continued, intense and close. The Thunder Cats were good—really good. By the fourth inning, the score was tied 5-5.

Bottom of the fifth, last inning, Thunder Cats at bat. One out, runners on first and second.

The batter hit a grounder—straight to Ash.

Time seemed to slow. This was it. This was the play that could end the game.

Ash fielded it clean. Looked to second. Emma was covering the base.

He threw.

The ball sailed through the air, perfect trajectory, right to Emma's glove.

She caught it—stepped on second base—one out.

She threw to first.

Tyler caught it just before the runner arrived.

Double play!

Game over!

The Little Sluggers won the championship!

The team mobbed each other at the pitcher's mound, jumping and screaming. Emma tackled Ash in a hug. Marcus was crying happy tears. Coach Mike was trying to gather them for the trophy ceremony but nobody was listening.

Patrick ran onto the field and swept Ash up, spinning him around. "YOU DID IT! The championship-winning play! That was INCREDIBLE!"

From the stands, Ash's family was going absolutely crazy. Eden was crying. Claire was hugging Marcus. Cathy and her boyfriend were cheering. Even Declan looked genuinely moved.

Coach Mike finally got everyone settled for the trophy presentation. Each kid got a medal and a small trophy. When Coach Mike handed Ash his, he added, "And our season MVP—Noam Walsh!"

Another medal, this one gold, larger than the others. "MVP" engraved on it.

The team cheered. Parents clapped. Ash stood there holding his trophies and medals, overwhelmed.

His family rushed down from the bleachers.

"That was AMAZING!" Eden got to him first, pulling him into a tight hug. "The double play! I can't believe you pulled off a double play!"

"Natural athlete," Cathy said, ruffling his hair. "Seriously, that was incredible baseball."

Claire was crying again, Sophie now awake and fussing. "I'm so proud of you. We're all so proud of you."

Even Declan seemed genuinely impressed. "That last play was sick. Seriously. Like, that was actually really cool."

Marcus, Claire's husband, was taking pictures. "Can we get a family photo with the championship team?"

They arranged themselves around Ash—his parents, his siblings, his niece. All wearing Little Sluggers colors or holding pennants. Ash in the center with his trophy and medals.

Shannon was crying. Patrick was grinning so wide his face must have hurt. The siblings all looked genuinely happy.

And Ash... Ash felt that warmth again. That complicated, confusing pride and joy and belonging.

He'd helped win a championship.

His family had come to watch.

They were proud of him.

After photos and congratulations from other parents and teams, they all headed back to the Walsh house for a celebration lunch. Shannon had prepared ahead—sandwiches, chips, a cake that said "CHAMPIONS!"

The living room filled with his family, everyone talking over each other about the game.

"That double play though!" Declan kept saying. "How did you even—that was such a good throw!"

"He practices every day," Patrick said proudly, arm around Ash's shoulders. "Rain or shine, we're out there working on fundamentals."

"It shows," Eden said. She was sitting on the floor with Ash, looking at his medals. "MVP and Championship. That's huge, Noam."

Claire was on the couch, nursing Sophie, but chimed in. "I'm just so proud. Our little athlete. Remember when he first started T-ball? Could barely hit the ball off the tee. Now look at him!"

"Character development," Cathy said, smiling. "That's what this is. Learning perseverance, teamwork, dedication. These are life skills."

Ash sat in the middle of it all, his family celebrating around him, and felt something shift.

This wasn't performance anymore. Wasn't just going through motions.

He'd wanted to win that game. Had felt genuine nerves before it. Had experienced real joy when that final out was called.

Had been proud—actually proud—of the MVP award.

His family's celebration felt earned because he'd actually earned it. Through practice and effort and getting better over months of playing.

At lunch, Patrick made a toast with juice boxes. "To Noam! Our championship shortstop! We're so proud of the player—and the person—you're becoming."

Everyone clinked their juice boxes and sippy cups together.

Ash took a sip and let himself feel it. The pride. The belonging. The satisfaction of achieving something difficult.

Later, after lunch, Eden found him looking at his trophy in his room. It was on his bookshelf now, next to his participation ribbons and other T-ball memorabilia.

"You okay?" she asked, sitting on his bed.

"Yeah."

"That was a really special game today. I'm glad we all got to see it." Eden was quiet for a moment. "You looked happy out there. Like, genuinely happy."

"I was," Ash admitted. "I wanted to win. I wanted to play well. I wanted..." He trailed off.

"Wanted what?"

"Wanted to make everyone proud."

Eden pulled him into a side hug. "You did. We're all so proud of you. Not just for the baseball—though that was amazing—but for everything. For how you've handled this whole situation. For finding things that make you happy. For being brave enough to try."

"It doesn't feel brave."

"It is though. It would have been easier to just shut down. To refuse to participate in anything. But you didn't. You found things you're good at. Things you enjoy. That takes courage."

After his family left—more hugs, more congratulations, promises to come to games next season—Ash helped Shannon clean up while Patrick put away folding chairs.

"Did you have fun today?" Shannon asked, wrapping leftover cake.

"Yeah. I did."

"Your family loves watching you play. You should have seen Eden—she was on her feet the entire game, cheering every play you made." Shannon smiled. "They're all so proud of you."

That night, in bed, Ash held his MVP medal. The gold caught the light from the hallway, glinting.

"My name is Ash," he whispered. "I'm twenty-five years old. Today I won a T-ball championship and got the MVP award."

The contradiction was softer now. Less painful.

Because today had been good. Really good.

He'd played well. His team had won. His family had celebrated.

He'd been Noam Walsh, championship shortstop, season MVP. And part of him—more than just a small part now—had loved every minute of it.

"I'm good at baseball," he whispered. "I like playing. I wanted to win."

All true statements.

All things that made him less Ash and more Noam.

But today, with the trophy on his shelf and the medal in his hand and his family's proud voices still echoing in his memory, that didn't feel like a loss.

It felt like... growth. Change. Becoming.

Five thousand four hundred and fifty-two days to go.

But today he'd been a champion.

Had made his whole family proud.

Had experienced the pure joy of winning something that mattered.

And tomorrow he'd still be Noam, the three-year-old shortstop who helped win the championship.

But also Ash, who was learning that maybe you could be both.

Maybe you could adapt and survive and even thrive without completely losing yourself.

Maybe becoming Noam didn't mean erasing Ash.

Maybe it just meant adding to who he was.

He fell asleep with the medal still in his hand, dreaming of perfect throws and winning plays and his family's cheers echoing across the field.

Good dreams.

The dreams of a champion who'd earned his victory.

The dreams of a three-year-old who'd had the best day of his season.

The dreams of someone learning, slowly, to live in two worlds at once.

And finding that sometimes—just sometimes—those worlds could coexist without destroying each other.