“Keenan? You want me to take him?”

“I can’t think of anything he’d rather do. Some of the kids play in their yards, and they let him chase the ball. But he’s never seen the real thing, except on TV.” She smiled now, guilelessly, and held back a hoot of laughter. She could all but see Coop’s mind working.

“I don’t know too much about kids,” he said, backpedaling cautiously.

“But you know about sports. It’ll be great for Keenan to experience his first real game with an expert. When are you leaving?”

“Ah . . . a couple of hours.”

“I’ll make sure he’s ready. This is awfully nice of you.” While he stood staring, she leaned over and kissed his cheek. After one hard tug, she had the mower roaring again.

Coop stood planted like a tree when she strolled away. What the hell was he supposed to do with a kid all afternoon?

He bought popcorn, hot dogs and enormous cups of soft drinks. Coop figured food would keep the kid quiet. Keenan had bounced on the seat of the car throughout the drive to Camden Yards, and since they had arrived he’d goggled at everything.

Coop had heard “What’s that?” and “How come?” too many times to count. Nervous as a cat, he settled into the press box with his laptop.

“You can watch through the window here,” he instructed Keenan. “And you can’t bother anybody, because they’re working.”

“Okay.” Almost bursting with excitement, Keenan clutched his hot dog.

There were lots of people in the press box, some with neat computers, like Coop, others with headphones. A few of them had smiled at him, and all of them had said hello to Coop. Keenan knew Coop was important. As his mother had instructed, he kept close and didn’t ask for any presents. Even though there had been really neat stuff at the stands. His mother had given him five whole dollars and told him he could buy a souvenir. But there’d been so many he didn’t know which to pick. And Coop had walked so fast he’d hardly been able to look.

But it didn’t matter, because he was at a real ball game.

Wide-eyed, he stared down at the field. It was bigger than anything he’d imagined. He knew where the pitcher would stand, and he recognized home plate, but he wasn’t sure of anything else.

The big scoreboard exploded with pictures, and words he couldn’t read. Circling it all were the stands, filled with more people than he’d ever seen.

When they announced the lineup, he looked down at the players with naked admiration. The national anthem began, and, recognizing it, Keenan stood up, as he’d been taught.

Coop glanced over and saw the boy standing with a hot dog in one hand and a big, dazzling grin on his face. Suddenly he remembered his first time at a ballpark. His eager hand gripping his father’s, his eyes trying to see everything at once and his heart so full of the excitement of the game, of just being a boy.