#i want to learn more about field trials and i think puppy stakes will be a great low pressure way to do that

[abirddogmoment]

Thinking about birds

[winchester90210]

The BH 90210 Rewrite. 1x20: Spring Training.

Rewrite Masterlist

Read the previous chapter here!

Chapter Summary: Alongside Brandon, you take a dive into the world of little league. 

Word count: 2,000

Warnings: Swearing, brief mention of violence. Also... I know nothing about baseball.

A/N: Hi everyone! Hope you enjoy this week’s episode! Took an extra week off to focus on my mental health and am feeling much better with everything now. I hope you guys are as excited as the next chapter as I am! It’s almost time for the spring dance :)

My work is to not be reposted/republished, and/or edited without my expressed written consent. (Reblogging is great and encouraged!!)

Feedback is very appreciated and encouraged!! :)

-

"With my dad laid up, we need all the help we can get. We’re practicing today if either of you want to join in on the festivities," Brandon persuades the two of you as you round the corner of the Peach Pit to sit at your usual booth. The familiar scent of pie crust and burgers fills the air, instantly putting your soul at ease. 

"Thanks… but no thanks, slim," Dylan rejects him, sliding into the seat opposite of you while Brandon follows suit. 

"Dylan, I thought you were a total baseball freak!" You tell him.

"I am, but listening to these parents berate their kids from the sidelines all day long," he shakes his head, cringing, "Brings back a whole slew of bad memories."

"But it shouldn't be about the parents!" Brandon protests, "It should be about being on a team, learning fundamentals, having a good time!" 

"That's very noble, Brandon. But when I was playing? It was about winning at any cost necessary.” Dylan argues. Brandon sighs in defeat, looking to you.

"What about you, Y/N/N?" 

"Not a chance,” you laugh. 

"What? Why not?" 

"Brandon… me and 20 kids, in an extremely competitive state? Did you learn nothing from the summer of '85?" You jest. Brandon chuckles at your extreme rejection, sliding a laminated menu your way. 

"Wait… what happened in '85?" Dylan's eyes flicker cluelessly between the two of you, awaiting an explanation.

"Look, it was no big deal. Things got a little heated during one of Eric's little league games," you shrug dismissively, flipping through the Peach Pit's menu as if you didn't get the same thing every time. 

"She beat up a nine-year-old,” Brandon quips.

“I didn’t beat up a—“ you pause, taking in a breath. “To put it simply I… put a kid back in his rightful place. He was picking on my brother, nothing happened that he didn't deserve." 

“What’d you do, tackle him out on the field?” Dylan lifts his eyebrows, amused smile on his face.

“No, of course not!” You duck your head back into your menu, mumbling, “I went out there and hit him in the groin with his bat.” 

-

The kids run out into the field, taking their positions with their needed equipment in hand. You lean back onto the warm metal fence, slipping a pair of sunglasses over your eyes to get a better look at Nat’s team. Without the glaring sun in your eyes.

“This is pathetic!” A young boy, adorned in a bright yellow Dukes uniform comes hurdling out from behind the fence to join Brandon and Steve. “They’re not even wearing uniforms!” 

“So what?” Brandon shrugs, voice hardened, “It’s a practice game.” Steve leans into Brandon to whisper something to him, but since he lacks the levels of common decency that most people acquire by the age of five, he talks loud enough for the whole team to hear. 

“They don’t look so good, Brandon.” 

“It’s okay. They came to play, that’s the important thing.” Man… sometimes Brandon felt too good to be true. You’re convinced there has to be a catch at this point. Gorgeous, smart, great with kids. What’s next? He opens up an animal sanctuary for underprivileged strays? Buys a soup kitchen? “Listen up, you guys. The way you treat your competition is a direct comment on how you play the game. Good sportsmanship counts big time with me and my old man…” as he continues to ramble on, your thoughts begin to shift elsewhere. Like how good he looks. It’s purely criminal for anyone to look so hot in yellow. It’s an inherently unattractive color. Yet, there he is—coaching children in the blazing heat, instilling them with good sportsmanship, and all you want to do is to get him to yourself. That bastard. You shake it off, chalking it up to teenage hormones, and try to focus on the game.

“Hey doofus! You really eat toads!” The same kid whining about uniforms earlier is now directing all of his pent up privilege and ten-year-old angst towards the poor, sweet, small child from Nat's team, the Pitts, further solidifying your desire to never procreate. 

“You’ll throw it better next time, Manny!” Nat encourages the little boy wholeheartedly, clapping for him as loudly as he can. 

“Hey Corey! Throw it to the doofus, he’s a real toad!” Does this kid only know two insults? The smaller brunette, the less athletically gifted child hangs his head, kicking sand around the base plate in frustration. Brandon takes note of it, immediately bounding out into the middle of the game.

“Time out! Crawford, get in the game for Noah!” His voice is stern, and as he approaches the boy he’s in total coach mode. It’s kinda hot... Well, it’s not your fault baseball’s boring. Gotta keep yourself entertained somehow.

Steve stops Randy Crawford from going out from the fence with the back of his hand, and going after Brandon himself, sand slipping from under his shoes. You can’t hear what they're saying but you know it’s not the happiest conversation. Knowing them, you know exactly how this is playing out. You don’t even need to hear them. You can see Steve furrow his brows from the sidelines, and Brandon’s gesticulating with his hands wildly as they talk but can’t make out any words that are flying from their mouths. Brandon, the moral center of Los Angeles wants Noah out for being a little jerk. Steve, being Steve, would probably rather keep the better player in than save the self esteem of a little boy before it’s too late and it no longer exists. It’s not long until Brandon pats Steve hard on the shoulder, storming off the field in a blur of sand and sweat.

Well, that’s your cue to leave, isn't it? You go to follow Brandon out, but Steve stops you short. 

“That boyfriend of yours is a total Boy Scout,” he spits. 

“Well, someone’s gotta be," You scoff, eyes rolling, ”They’re just kids, Steve! This isn’t Major League Baseball. There’s no trophy, there’s no prize. There’s absolutely nothing at stake here. What they need to be doing is having fun, and while that snot-nosed little jerk is out there on the field, they’re all gonna be miserable.” 

-

You flop down onto Dylan's couch, feet up on the armrest as he grabs a soda from the fridge and parks himself on the ottoman beside you. You exhale, eyes fluttering shut for a moment.

"Rough day out with the little leaguers?" 

"Rough day out with Steve," you snort. “I’m so used to being around Brandon I forget that people like Steve Sanders even exist.” 

“Come on, Steve isn't that bad."

"Dylan, you're talking about the guy that got carjacked by a girl he was trying to hook up with, and still bailed her out of jail--despite the fact she robbed him justminutes before--in the hopes of getting laid, only for her to steal his wallet." Dylan's face screws in a mix of amusement and total disbelief.

"Okay, so he's that bad," Dylan laughs. "Sorry to break it to you, Y/N/N, but not everyone is a part of the illustrious Walsh family."

"Not everyone can be," you tease. He gently tosses you a throw pillow from the chair across the room, and you use it to prop up your head. "It’s a tragedy.”

-

“See, what did I tell you? Isn’t he sweet? Isn’t he great?” Brenda watches as you comb through the stray dog’s long gray fur. He really is cute… wet black nose, shaggy gray hair, big puppy dog eyes. But you can’t keep him. “I think he likes you!” 

“Bren, as much as I’d love to take this puppy home, my parents would kill me!" 

“Just take him for a trial run, and if you like him, keep him!”

“Bren—“ 

“Please?” 

“Bren—“

“Come on!” She pleads.

“Fine! Okay, okay. I’ll see if we can take him in tomorrow night,” you concede, giving the dog one last pat on the head. Brenda squeals happily, a grin on her face as she wraps her arms around you. 

-

“He’s great! You’ll love him!” 

"Fine. See you later... Wally."

The four of you watch silently, perched up at the counter of the Peach Pit as Nat's baseball team chows down on slices of pepperoni pizza. We've got Nat to your far left, wondering how the hell they're going to survive against the team from Beverly Hills, then we've got Dylan to your left debating on whether to finally help Nat and shack up with the struggling team, Brandon to your right who hasn't lifted his hand from your upper thigh this whole time which is seriously distracting, and you, wondering how such little boys could devour so much pizza in so little time. 

"You know the improvement from one week to the next is remarkable." You mumble.

"Oh yeah… the kids are showing a lot of promise." Brandon nods absentmindedly, bringing his cup to his lips. 

"But…" Dylan begins, "you still need a pitcher that can put the ball over the plate." 

"Yeah," Nat sighs, "but win or lose, the most important thing is how good the kids feel about themselves." He's trying to convince you, but the more he talks the more you know he's trying to convince himself. 

"Absolutely." You agree. 

"Totally." Brandon nods. 

"Yeah, I mean, in the long run that's all that counts," Dylan shrugs, his voice coated with scepticism.

"Absolutely." Brandon concurs.

"Totally…” You say. “Y’know, I was talking to Andrea about this and she knows a pretty great player from the valley."

They all turn their heads, slowly, with Nat glancing from you to the phone. You roll your eyes at the boys, making your way over to the payphone. The group watches with bated breath behind you as you slip in the quarters and dial her number, waiting for her to pick up. 

"Hello?"

"Andrea, hi! Listen, uh, do you remember the other day? You told me you knew some kid in the valley who was a major blue-chip little leaguer?"

"Oh, yeah! Avery?"

"Yeah… Avery." You twist your head back, giving them a smile and a thumbs up. 

-

"What's Dylan doing? Bringing in a ringer?" Steve scoffs, twisting the metal bat in his hand as he cleans it. You exchange knowing smirks with Brandon as Dylan helps Avery get ready on the sidelines. She takes off her ball cap, releasing the foot of long brunette pony-tailed hair. Gasps are heard from center field, seemingly originating from Noah. Shocker.

"Oh my god! Dude, it's a girl!" He laughs out, adjusting his cap against the wind.

"Poor Dylan, he's really scraping the bottom of the barrel, huh?" Oh, if only you and that misogynistic head of yours knew, Steve-O. And surprise, surprise—Every pitch she's involved in ends up in a home run for the Pitts.

And little by little, much to your joy, Steve is getting progressively more aggravated— tapping feet, flaring nostrils, bugged-out eyes. You’re beginning to like baseball.

Eventually you make your way over to Brenda, off by the sidelines. You watch as they send Davey from the Dukes out, and Manny, the small, athletically challenged boy from the Pitts, isn’t far behind. Brandon perks up, calling a timeout to give what you can only assume is another one of his infamous Brandon talks to his team. After a moment the team breaks up, moving into their correct positions and as Manny chokes up on his bat ready to pitch. You cringe, hiding your face in your hand.

 But it's nothing short of a miracle as Davey throws the ball. It makes contact with Manny's bat, soaring across the field as he jets off across the bases. The catcher from the Dukes runs for the ball, tripping over his own foot and skidding across the grass. The whole team erupts into ecstatic cheers, rushing out and lifting Manny onto their shoulders. You know that Davey blew the pitch for him, you’ve seen him pitch a hundred times. But seeing the joy on that little boy's face, you knew that it didn't matter. 

"Poor kid," Brenda sighs, looking out to the opposite direction to Randy Crawford, the catcher that landed face-first into the grass. "I mean, he really gave it his best-- Wally!" 

"Wally? Bren, what're you-- oh my god! That is Wally!" Off in the distance, you can see the gray ball of hair hurdling towards the baseball diamond.

"That's not Wally! That's Rupert! It's my dog, he's back!" Randy gasps, watching in amazement as his shaggy mutt runs across the crowds and into his open arms. 

"Hey uh," Brandon comes to greet you, but is looking out into the field as well, "isn't that supposed to be your dog, Y/N/N?" 

"No, Brandon," Brenda shakes her head, light smile lacing her lips. "I guess that's Randy's dog…" You sigh, but seeing the little boy giggle with glee as Wally-- er, Rupert, laps at his cheek, there's no troubling emotions to be found. 

"I'm sorry, Y/N/N," Brandon laces his fingers with yours, grabbing your attention with a soft kiss to your temple. 

"I'm not," you assure him. You smile, the sight of the boy reuniting with his long lost dog something straight out of a movie scene. One last look and you turn away from the boy, eyes meeting your boyfriend’s. “Hey, Brandon... have a date for that dance yet?”

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Taglist: @be-patient-be-good​ @mpmarypoppins​ @bevelyhills90210​ @blueoz​ @princess-ghost-alien​ @hueycat2004​ @l4life​ @keepcalm-and-beyou​ @isthatabutterfly​ @rosy-pugs​ @thewalshess​

[abirddogmoment]

Thinking about my Rory goals again and its been a minute since I updated on her progress so here are some thoughts:

Tomorrow will be seven weeks of Rory! I've been working really hard to convince her to be a good citizen and we've had some big successes:

She is fully crate trained, very rarely if ever makes noise in her crate.

She is housetrained and fully understands how to ask to go outside. Only one accident since I've brought her home!

She sleeps really well and will put herself back to sleep if I'm not ready to get up (provided she doesn't have to go outside).

She can maintain her path walking past people on the sidewalk, some wiggles and staring but no attempts to jump on them.

She has never met a stranger and was excited to meet her vet, groomer, misc trainers, etc.

She is neutral to excited around strange dogs of all shapes, sizes, and behaviours.

She rarely alarm barks and her demand barking is way down.

She's eating reasonably consistently and understands how to ask for food.

She's a really cool dog and has a lot of potential. I've been thinking a lot about our goals for competition. I got her "as a friend to dabble with" so there's a tiny bit of pressure to perform, but not much.

I want to get her CKC CH since I've never had a show prospect and we have so many local shows (and lots of competition locally in the breed).

I want to run puppy stakes to learn more about CKC pointing field trials.

I want to work through the trick dog program as something easy and low pressure to do while she grows up.

So no huge goals for her first year or two. As for upcoming outings:

Confo debut at two semi-local shows at the end of March and beginning of April.

Field trial at the beginning of May (if they hold puppy stakes).

Big road trip at the end of May.

Local shows in June and August if we're feeling it.

So anyway, we have some plans but mostly we're just chilling. She's a cool little dog and I'm trying to keep the pressure off her.

Can't wait for the spring and summer though, it'll be so fun to get her out! 💜