Sidewinder
November 22nd, 2020
Starring: Dad (male, 70’s), Son 3 (male, 40’s)
An open field/yard. Dad and Son 3 are throwing a baseball back and forth. Son 3 is throwing with a somewhat sidearm:
DAD
What’s the deal?
SON 3
What?
DAD
You’re sidearming a little.
SON 3
My shoulder’s been flaring up.
DAD
How long?
SON 3
Like a month?
DAD
No consult?
SON 3
I’m not going in right now.
DAD
You’re in pain.
SON 3
Not enough to brave the wave.
DAD
You’re a big boy. Wear a mask and go in.
SON 3
I don’t want to.
DAD
This is how the chronic stuff develops. You think it’s nothing. Then you get to my age, everything feels like crap, then have to sit on your ass until you croak.
SON 3
I’m not going in.
DAD
Why?
SON 3
So I can see you.
…
DAD
You’re an idiot.
SON 3
Why are you mad at me?
DAD
You’re accommodating.
SON 3
It’s caring.
DAD
Caring is a trojan horse for guilt.
SON 3
Guilt? Where’s the guilt? This is catch, catch is guilt free.
DAD
Fine, fine. So long as you’re not changing your life around for my sake.
SON 3
I’m not, I promise.
You’re not that important.
DAD
That’s the spirit.
…
…
I kind of like you as a sidewinder.
SON 3
Really?
DAD
Yeah. It suits you.
SON 3
But what does that mean?
DAD
I don’t know.
Call it parental intuition.
Dad uncorks one, landing off target and in between them:
DAD
Shit
I’ll get it.
SON 3
It’s fine.
DAD
I threw it.
SON 3
I’m right here—
DAD
Just let me get it, ok?
SON 3
Alright.
Dad jogs to go get it. Son 3 watches him go.
SON 3 (To himself)
Yeah. I’m the sidewinder.