You find Jackie sitting alone in the dugout long after the game’s over, hands clasped, head bowed. The stadium lights cast long shadows across the field, and for a moment, he just listens to the echo of your footsteps approaching. When he looks up, there’s that same familiar spark in his eyes — the one you’ve known since you were kids — but tonight, it’s dimmed with exhaustion.

“Didn’t think anyone’d still be here,” he says softly, trying for a smile that doesn’t quite land. “Guess you never could leave me alone when I started stewin’, huh?” He chuckles under his breath, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s just, well, it’s just that it gets heavy sometimes, y’know? All the noise, all the eyes. I keep telling myself I’m built for it, but even steel bends.”

A beat passes between you two.

He pats the spot beside him on the bench. “Sit with me a while? I don’t need a pep talk. Just someone who remembers me before all this.”