Lupe and Selina Play Through the Storm

Selina

Selina sat squeezed against her father on the unforgiving stadium bleacher, her discomfort heightened by his cheers for her brother as he played baseball for the Monterrey Sultans. Her father, Carlos Andrade, focused on the center fielder, Selina’s brother, Jake. Selina wished she could be the one playing semipro ball, but this was impossible in Mexico.

It was Saturday, and every Saturday in the 2009 season, Selina and her father cheered for the Sultans from their seats, just above the Fuentes Coffee banner. The family business had sponsored the construction of the stadium from a barren field to a mud hole after Hurricane Hector in 2005 to the semipro playing field it was today, now attracting paying fans. Her family’s seating was protected from the fierce afternoon sun. Today, her father was busy comparing the other players to his son.

“Mira, este sloppy left fielder, Moreno. During this entire season, I have never seen him hustle out to his position. Hay que tonto.” Her father not only criticized the player from the stands but also in private to the team manager.

“Calm down, Dad. Don’t waste your energy on him.” Selina knew Moreno and had an intimate knowledge of his hustle off the field. Ever since she had become a teenager, her father was blind to certain aspects of her life, such as her clandestine meetings with the left fielder, or her secret application to a college in the United States, where she could play competitive softball. As she anticipated the coming year, she knew she would miss Moreno, and maybe her father, when she enrolled in a US college and continued her own softball career far from the confines of home.

“Don Andrade, saludos.” A line of well-wishers approached the family’s stadium seats to give her father a flowery personal greeting and, like every other phony friend, ask him for special favors.

“Gracias, hombre. Mira mi hijo.” The first words out of her father’s mouth were always meant to point out Jake on the field. Before the flattering attendant looked toward Jake, he stole a glance at Selina. It made her feel uncomfortable. “Cover your knees,” Papa whispered.

“Shh, Papa.” Selina squirmed a little more and glanced over her left shoulder, where she could feel someone watching her, a man two rows above, his face buried in a scorecard.