The author has been asked frequently what she knows about softball since she is a notorious non-sports fan. She has to admit her limits on this score. The ball field is an arena in which Mercedes Mayfield and her family learn some of the rules of the game and become a team. Some of Mercedes’ ruminations on her family should sound familiar to readers who have or are teenagers:
“I'm home alone, Saturday night. Mom sashayed out of here with Dugan. She's a real sexpot in a silver sheath and spiked heels about five inches high. Trudy the Legal Eagle. The woman simply doesn't add up: she hits the books every night, studies like a grind, aims at independence. Then dresses like a starlet. And what does she read when she gets a free hour? Harlequin romances: she's got stacks of them, all with the same cover--a guy ripping off some female's blouse. Who is she? How am I supposed to figure out what I should do with my stupid life if my parents are so mixed up?”
“Aren't they too old for all this? I guess there is more to Mom and Dad's warfare than just ‘incompatibility’ or nutritional differences. Or Dad's new car and the Lockfield mess. This time, divorce looks like a sure thing. Is Mom gonna marry Dugan? Things are bad, and I sure haven't helped any. I can taste salt in my milk. Tears. I reach for a Care Bear, but all twelve stare at me accusingly like a jury. I have really messed up. Really really messed up. Maybe I'm just a bad seed.”
