Parents filled the bleachers, unease dividing them. 

Batter up! 

Freddie tensed, not used to sharing a space with white players. But on the mound, Stewart didn’t notice Freddie’s black skin, only his wicked smash to right field after he choked up on the bat. 

By the second inning, Freddie saw a hit was a hit for everyone, and the tightness in his young body relaxed. The next few hours were just boys playing ball. What happened outside the fence didn’t matter. 

And when the game ended, those twelve-year-old boys shook hands, unaware they’d helped pave a path toward integration.