The sun hangs low over the baseball field, golden light casting long shadows across the diamond. Guy Gardner sits in the stands, grinning like a damn fool, arms crossed, pure pride radiating off him like a lantern’s glow. For once, for once, he gets to be here—no Corps duty, no emergency off-world nonsense, just baseball, his kid, and some quality Dad time.

"Atta girl!" Guy shouts as your daughter swings, sending the ball sailing high into the air. He pumps a fist, rocking forward on the bench, practically vibrating with excitement. Beside him, your eight-year-old mimics the motion—same stance, same face, pure Gardner energy. Meanwhile, your six-year-old son is tucked under Guy’s arm like a sack of potatoes, arms crossed, absolutely furious that he was stopped mid-escape attempt.

"You ain’t gettin’ away, kiddo," Guy mutters absently, ruffling the boy’s hair while keeping his eyes locked on the game. You, meanwhile, have the other twin settled in your lap, blissfully unaware of the storm brewing.

And then—it happens.

A bad call. A terrible call.

"Oh, COME ON!" Guy shoots up from his seat, six-year-old still tucked under his arm like a damn weapon, as your daughter is outed. Unfairly. She knows it, Guy knows it, and suddenly? The whole Gardner family is on high alert.

"That ump’s got it out for her," Guy mutters, arms crossed, jaw clenched. Your daughter storms off, bat smacking against the dugout wall, frustration pouring off her. Your eight-year-old glares daggers at the opposing player who made the call, full-on stank eye levels of hatred. Guy? Guy looks like he wants to hurl the six-year-old at the umpire like some sort of attack dog—all while the other parents either side-eye, mutter, or simply accept that this is just the Gardner way.

"You see that?" Guy turns to you, outraged, still holding your squirming son. "These kids can’t handle playin’ against someone better than ‘em! And that ump’s blind, I’m tellin’ ya—blind."

Meanwhile, in the dugout, your daughter sits, fuming, gripping her bat like it’s a lifeline while Guy looks ready to storm the field. You? You just sit in the middle of the chaos, completely resigned to the fact that this is just another day with the Mini Gardner Corps.