An ongoing exercise in creative nonfiction.
Tommy reflected on what first stirred his competitive nature, and thought back to the bustling household in which he grew up.
Among the Cahill clan, Tommy was the runt of the litter, and frequently at the epicenter of sibling showdowns.
"Last to the kitchen is a rotten egg!" Rory, the eldest of the Cahill siblings, would declare as he made a break for the last piece of pizza.
Middle child Lydia, not one to be outdone, would knock over chairs to block Tommy's way in that race to the kitchen. Oscar, the second oldest, was always cutting weight for wrestling so carbohydrates were out of the question.
During these lively skirmishes over table scraps, Tommy's weapon of choice was a butter knife, which he wielded more out of theater than threat. His exaggerated cackles led his siblings to joke about him needing a padded room.
But it was Danny, Tommy's identical twin, who posed the most significant in-house challenge, especially during their heated "game nights." Flashing a mischievous smile, Danny loved to say about their differences that he was "smarter, better looking, and always coming out on top."
While the sibling rivalry had its lighthearted moments, it was punctuated with battles that sometimes left scars. Thankfully, most of them were more physical than emotional, and these conflicts only forged a stronger bond between them.
Monopoly was a favorite battleground. Clashes, spilled tokens, and spirited debates were par for the course.
"You owe me two hundred for Boardwalk," Tommy would say with a flourish.
Quick-witted Lydia shot back, "You can't even land a date, let alone Boardwalk."
Such exchanges often culminated in a wrestling match—the one sport that outranked baseball as Iowa's pastime. Luckily, they had a thick mat in the basement to absorb the brunt of their impromptu wrestle-offs.
Their saintly mother would eventually be forced to intervene as referee. "Boys, it's just a game," she would say, lumping in Lydia with her four brothers as "boys."
Outside the Cahill arena, Tommy and his twin brother found a slew of other willing opponents after school and on weekends. Neighborhood kids brought their own unique tactics to the board game skirmishes.
After one particularly tough round of the Game of Life, Chuck, the neighbor kid from two doors down, mocked his trio of fallen adversaries while counting his winnings in play money. "Boo-hoo. Life's not fair!"
Tommy shot back, "Especially when you never play by the rules!"
Chuck, ever cheeky, responded, "It's called the Game of Life, not the Game of Fair."
With that, Tommy finally snapped. "More like the Game of Death!" he exclaimed, setting off yet another playful brawl, joined by the others at the card table in a tag-team match.
That night, they had numerous inexplicable bruises, cuts, and bite marks to explain to their parents, who simply shook their heads at the familiar storyline.
In time, Peg's father Bernard—Tommy's father-in-law—emerged as Tommy's primary adversary on the Monopoly board. After their traditional Christmas Eve feast in Iowa, Tommy would jest, "Ready for a quick game of Monopoly, Bernie?"
With twinkling eyes, Bernard would retort, "A quick game of Monopoly? Impossible."
They had an unspoken pact: strategically eliminate the others and ensure it was just the two of them left for the final showdown. However, during one memorable year, an exasperated Marjorie—Tommy's sister-in-law—blurted out, "I'm switching to Scrabble!"
From that moment, the Monopoly set was relegated to a dusty corner, never to be opened again. The rivalry between Tommy and Bernard had become too intense for the rest of the family.
Fast-forward to the Rockies' latest baseball game against the Sea Puppies. Tommy's team had perfected the tactic of pinning tags on baserunners after they slid, often catching them off the base.
Gabby, their third baseman, showcased this skill brilliantly, disrupting the opposition's rally and sparking a spirited celebration among the Rockies.
But this sly tactic to achieve a cheap out didn't sit well with everyone. A frustrated Sea Pup parent confronted Tommy at the dugout, demanding, "Say, coach, a quick word?"
Tommy, wearing a congenial smile, responded, "Sure thing."
The man's voice, tinged with irritation, probed, "This is about fun, right? Team spirit?"
"Absolutely," Tommy agreed. "But it's also about understanding the intricacies of the game."
As their conversation intensified, the parent threw out a familiar accusation, calling Tommy's coaching tactics "Bush League."
Tommy kept his cool, restraining himself from snapping back. He held an unfiltered reply safely on the tip of his tongue; there were too many kids around.
After the dust of the game settled, Jerry, Tommy's assistant coach and right-hand man, sidled up to him. Even with the scoreboard reflecting a 13 to 10 victory for the Rockies, a cloud had settled over Tommy.
With his trademark levelheadedness, Jerry said, "You stood your ground, and rightly so." He paused, looking directly into Tommy's eyes, and added, "We're teaching these young men an important lesson, that this isn't tee ball—it's real baseball."
Tommy nodded in appreciation.
On his drive home, Tommy's thoughts drifted back to those fiery Monopoly confrontations. The lessons from the board and the diamond merged in his mind—highlighting the delicate balance between fierce competition and the pure joy of play.
With the Bloomington Youth League's end-of-season, double-elimination tournament approaching, Tommy fortified his resolve. He was determined to ensure the Rockies exemplified the true spirit of sportsmanship and dedication, especially in a divisive era where the pursuit of victory often eclipsed the love of the game.
Next week, Chapter Nine: "Season Finale" . . .
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