Team Spirit (Sean)

One didn’t grow up to become a liberal atheist in a family of Catholic Republicans without learning to avoid discussing politics and religion. While Sean had strong opinions on both topics, he also kept a shortlist of people with whom it was acceptable to have those discussions.

Hart was not on either list.

Which was fine, since the telepath enjoyed the younger man’s company. None of Hart’s opinions were so abhorrent as to undermine that, even if they fundamentally viewed the world differently and disagreed on politics to such a degree that he was sure the younger man considered him more of a radical than he had ever self-identified. If they ever discussed politics, which they didn’t. Instead, they could enjoy baseball together.

Sean was a Yankees fan who came from a family of Yankees fans. Not only had every member of his immediate family been a Yankees fan, but so too were all of the extended family members: aunts and uncles, cousins, their children. Kathleen had properly married not only another Irish Catholic from New York, but a Yankees fan so that they could raise their son with the proper allegiance.

But for all of the importance of baseball, and sports generally in his family, and despite his enjoyment of watching different games on television, or occasionally, live, Sean was mellow about winning and losing. He was also realistic about his team’s performance, and they had been playing only a few games over 500 this entire season. Before Mariano Rivera’s injury left them without the best closer in the history of the sport, and minus one member of the bullpen. Additionally, the offense wasn’t hitting consistently and, as with every year, displayed the most distressing tendency to leave men in scoring position only to sorely lament those lost runs later when the uneven pitching allowed the other team to score a few and gain the lead.

As such, it was quite possible that the Yankees would lose and rather painfully at that.

When Hart had arrived bearing gifts, Sean had graciously accepted them, before putting most of the beer in the refrigerator to chill. He then brought out the snacks he had prepared, along with the chips and onion dip that Hart and brought, and set them on the table in the den. He’d placed an order for a pizza, but it was on its way; Saturdays were busy for the pizzeria.

“Fully prepared,” he replied, as he settled on the other end of the sofa and reached for the remote. He turned the channel to the YES network (which cost extra in New England, as opposed to in New York where it was a standard part of the cable package. He didn’t balk at the notion because this was a hobby and a reasonable one at that), which was airing the game. “Although, I will point out that when the Dodgers were taken over by the Commission, an editor of a paper in my team’s hometown didn’t want to petition to have them moved there, so they could ‘finally have a professional baseball team.’”

Sean disagreed fundamentally with the most effective way to change hearts and minds when it came to politics. There were certain issues that he refused to compromise on, and in doing so, he understood the need for ideological purity, at times. However, he also realized, now in his fifties, that very little could be accomplished by ranting alone. And if he took the approach of ranting at people who were ideologically more conservative than he was, his social circle would be quite small indeed. Josh, Greg, Walter and Debra, and James Campbell (on most issues), as well as some of his ex-partners would be the only ones he could talk to. That would be lonely.

He had also never discussed what he knew about Hart with the younger man, because there was no comfortable way to do so. He knew that Hart didn’t advertise his situation and his past, and as such, the telepath didn’t discuss it. That was something he would let the other man bring up in due time, if he chose to do so at all.

The telepath popped the top off one of the Hard Lemonades he had taken with him from the refrigerator, and he took a sip. He liked the late spring and summer for so many reasons, but the array of appropriate beverages was a nice perk.

“Josh wouldn’t object,” he assured the other man. His partner’s jealous tendencies aside, he had never tried to stifle Sean’s social life. He understood, quite well, the concept of friends, even if they shared a somewhat different outlook on who made acceptable friends; Sean’s definition included exes, while Josh’s definition did not, but instead included people he complained to on the bus. “I can go out with anyone I want as long as I come home to him.”

Which was more than fair.

“Besides,” he added with a chuckle, before taking another sip of his lemonade, “He doesn’t really know the first thing about baseball.” Even if his partner had become far less judgmental about enjoying the sport.

Josh as a controlling partner wasn’t an image that immediately came to mind for most people, although given the events of the last summer, and anyone who had been privy to those events, it was an image that Sean wanted to guard against, as it wasn’t true. Of course, even this many months into their rekindled relationship, they were still defining boundaries; that would be an ongoing exercise.

He shook his head in response to the question. “I wouldn’t say to uninvited him, only that he wouldn’t be offended in the absence of an invitation.” It was also explanation of the fact that while Josh had mellowed about sports in the years since college, he still didn’t have any particular interest in, or respect for, them as a recreational activity.

The game, thus far, was typical for how the Yankees had played for the entire season: their hitting was sporadic, their pitching was all over the place, but their fielding was fine. The telepath still had hope that they could win this game, since they weren’t anywhere near last place in the division.

He took a sip from his drink and then smiled at the compliment on the house. “It’s a very good party house. It goes to waste sometimes, between the weather and the fact that it’s only the two of us here, but we should put together a tailgating party this summer. It would be fun.”

“With summer just around the corner, it’s definitely something to try,” Sean agreed with a nod and a smile. It would also be easy enough to put together; there were enough sporting events between baseball season and then the Summer Olympics, to warrant a party. And then come the fall, between his Halloween activities and then Thanksgiving and the holidays, he was sure they could pull off a proper football tailgate party.

He chuckled at the other remark, which was one he heard frequently. “Not everyone, but I’m working slowly on meeting everyone.” He did know a huge number of people in Pilot Ridge, which was to be expected since he’d lived here for so long, and it wasn’t that large a town. Not like living in Manhattan. “Besides, it isn’t as though we never throw parties.”

There were barbecues and Halloween parties and Thanksgiving suppers. There were also his attempts to do couples’ activities with Josh and others, although those were difficult to arrange. The age difference between them and many couples was difficult, and then Josh’s other close friends didn’t like couples’ activities, or Sean, or who were afraid of getting drunk with him and Josh (he conceded the validity of that). At least they had the Jenkins: good friends, in their age range, and who enjoyed couples’ activities with him and Josh.

He chuckled again, although this time it was from amusement at the game. “It looks like our pitching might actually hold together today.”

He could hope.

Sean conceded that point, because there was no reason to try to deny it; he likely did know more people in Pilot Ridge than Hart did. While his many years in the town certainly played a role in the size of his social circle, telepathy also played a part, as far as he was concerned. It was simply easier to interact with people given his ability (and the control he had over it, as opposed to when he was a student and the opposite was true). Additionally, working at Hammel plugged him into much of the town community, because the school had such a large role in sculpting Pilot Ridge’s demographics.

“We’ll see.” Sean wasn’t in the habit of trash-talking during sporting events, primarily because he had a live and let live attitude, even when sports rivalries were concerned. But the Yankees were all over the place this season, and while the Mariners weren’t anywhere near their best and hadn’t been in many years, the game was up in the air.

The telepath sipped from his bottle and smiled at the remark. “Parties don’t count if they aren’t announced? I’ll have to remember that for this summer; I’ll make sure you hear about them so you can come and bask in the knowledge that they exist.”

As a baseball fan, although more of a casual and historical fan than some of the more rabid sports fans around him, Sean understood the notion of loyalty to one’s team. As such, he didn’t expect Hart to badmouth the Mariners, or to necessarily agree aloud with negative assessments.

He also expected the heckling; it was part and parcel of watching sports with fans of opposing teams. At least this was all in good fun, and neither of them would become so serious about it so as to spoil the fun.

And given that the Yankees had just scored a run, it gave him the ability to smile and applaud. “It looks like we’re going to give you a run for your money after all,” he remarked.

The telepath chuckled at the other man’s remark. “Yes, it’s quite inconsiderate of me to neglect to notify potential party crashers of my galas. I’ll be sure to remedy that in the future.” He had no intention of doing that, but he also wasn’t into the idea of having party crashers. Not given the students he dealt with on a daily basis; the mere thought of Vincent or Sam Rixon or Zac crashing a house party was enough to ruin potential plans.

Sean chuckled again. “Admittedly, I am hooked into the Pilot Ridge social scene more than most people think, but I don’t monitor every private gathering.” For which he was sure everyone was grateful.

The doorbell rang then, and Sean rose from the sofa. He grabbed his wallet and went out to the front door to pay the pizza delivery man. After paying and tipping heavily, he took the boxes, shut the door with his foot and returned to the den. “The pizza has arrived.”