With a tight smile at James, who grinned back in anticipation, Stacy turned his cap around backwards the way he always wore it when he pitched. Then he stepped away from the workbench, just enough to give him room to wind up.
He hadn’t done this in yearsbut it all came back, the twist of his body, the leg raising up in front of him, the arm going back behind his head. He aimed for the wall behind James, aimed high just in case he missed because he knew he was rusty and he didn’t want to knock the kid in the head. For a second he waited, holding his breath, while he centered himself. Then he pulled back tighter and let go.