Aiding Hearts, Aiden for short, has grown confused as to which path is his destiny, but seeks out an "honest" opinion on how to get there when his baseball career is fouled off into the stands
Applejack has the luck of watching a baseball game with Big Mac and some of their friends. One of the Players on the Ponyville Nationals, Coeur Aidant, who prefers Aiding Heart, may not be a great player, but his lack of baseball skills attracts Applejack for other reasons. Turns out baseball is not on the forefront of Aiden's mind, and Applejack seeks to make him realize that he should travel down a different path to realize his calling.
This is my first attempt at a longer fanfic, so any commentary as I continue writing will be appreciated as always. 9/12: Yeah, I know the chapter's small, but I just wanted to get something out. May consolidate this with the next chapter, but this update is so you know I still plan to finish this story, it's kind of a pet peeve story of mine
The chapters carry the initials of the pony who affects the chapter the most [ie. since the prologue featured Vinyl Scratch, that's why the chapter's title is "Victory and Success"]
Cover image is a temporary as the main image is being worked on (i'm not good with arts), colored by me, but source to initial image is linked in the source of the image
Apples. As if Applejack and Big Macintosh would be working on anything else. Today, they were riding their truck, a rackety brown flatbed which had been passed down the family for many years. Despite its feeble appearance, it still carried the five full baskets of apples into town. Both knew their load would hold; Big Mac had driven a load of ten for the days leading to the Summer Harvest parade. This time, it was Applejack’s turn to drive the truck into the Ponyville marketplace, but she noticed once again, Macintosh had a cell phone at the ready.
This seemed to perplex the applebucking pony, “Why in Equestria would you need that out now?”
The brother heard, but decided not to respond, instead, turning on the radio to 99.8, which Applejack recognized featured The Vinyl Scratch, syndicated in the mid-morning hours. Although its fare ran the gamut, it tended to be associated with deep bass beats, typically constructed by the host herself, Vinyl Scratch.
“I don’t really see the appeal in this show,” Applejack admitted.
“Me neither,” agreed Macintosh.
“I mean, the music doesn’t really – wait a moment, then why are you listening?”
This prompted a quick hush as the song was starting to trail off, which led a familiar cohost, more civil and sophisticated in demeanor , to pick up, “Well, that was ‘Epic Rave and Failed Call’ from the pony who couldn’t tell time if you glued a watch to her wrist.”
With that, the sound of the door opening to the recording room could be lightly heard over the airwaves, and the more energetic pony graced her voice, “Sorry, I had a bit of a problem finding an open restroom.”
“Ten minutes for the one down the hall?”
“It was locked.”
“Try pulling on it at all?”
For some reason, the pause on the other end was all any listener needed to know to understand that Vinyl messed up, “That would explain why there was a handle.”
“Do we need to send you back to magic kindergarten just to understand the basics of life?” Octavia flamed.
“I suppose at least then, I could take a nap without being woken up by co-workers,” she replied in jest.
Applejack lost any interest she had in the program with that first monologue, “Ya know, I fail to see how bathroom humor is supposed to make a quality show.”
“Glad we agree,” and Big Mac continued listening.
“Then why are you listening?” inquired the sister, “if the quality is so poor, why are you listening at all?”
“Braeburn told me there’d be a call-in contest,” he confessed, “and it’s one that I would be interested in.”
“Which is…”
But the egging of Applejack would be cut short by an ending note to the previous conversation, with Vinyl asking, “So, what did the audience think of my song?”
Octavia gave a matter-of-fact reply, “well, it was your song, I’ll let you be the judge of that.”
“Glad to see it was swell,” she gleefully replied, and went on with the broadcast, “Hey listeners, remember what this-” a brief vocal pause was given to provide a quaking duck from a button behind the scenes, “little beat is supposed to mean?”
“Glad to see you admit you’re a quack,” Octavia barked.
“L-O-L,” Vinyl deadpanned, “Actually, that is our Tuesday Trivia Tone here on The Vinyl Scratch. This week we have tickets, and no, for once they’re not to either one of our concerts.” Vinyl took a brief pause, no doubt to see how Octavia would reply to it. Nopony who was listening knew the reason for the pause, and the DJ sought to keep it that way, “That’s right, the Equestrian Diamond League is beginning this season with two new expansion teams for this upcoming season. One of them happens to be the Ponyville Nationals, and they’ve offered ten tickets for their first game this Friday if anypony can answer this trivia tidbit.”
Applejack had arrived at the market, with a halt of the truck that seemed more abrupt than usual, “Should we get started Big Mac?” she asked once exiting on her own.
“I’ll join you in a moment, I need to answer this first,” Applejack would have shut off the radio, but figured it best to keep the radio on for now, especially curious as to what he would have to answer.
“Just remember,” Vinyl soothed, “when you have the answer, just dial 4 and you have a chance to score.”
“Stick to those wubs, you haven’t always been great with lyrics,” her co-host mentioned.
“Well, I’m much better than you think,”
“But your rhyming is falling down the sink.”
“Maybe I should sign you up for one of those ‘rap battles’, you’d have a shot against Trixie,” after what must have been a pause of disgust, Vinyl continued with the promotion, “Anyway, since today’s tickets are for a baseball game, today’s theme will revolve around baseball.”
“How does anypony play baseball anyway? Never played it myself,” Octavia admitted.
“Magic Guards.”
“Huh?”
“To make sure that: one, the pegasai can’t fly too high to swipe the ball; two, so the unicorns can’t teleport a home run back to their glove; and three, to act as the umpires, though that’s a separate set of ponies all together. But don’t worry, listeners, this question will be based upon stats.”
Well, there goes my ability to help Macintosh, Applejack mused to herself.
“Okay, here we go!” Vinyl spoke, energized more by finally being able to ask the question, “Grand Slam may have hit 39 home runs last season, leading the Cloudsdale Freight – by the way, we actually got him on the Nationals for this season – with 8 carrying his namesake, but what was his batting average last season?”
A quick press of the fourth key was all Macintosh needed to do, but Applejack could have sworn he had to cut the red wire with two seconds remaining. She could see how determined he was, staring out forward into the windshield’s void. All Applejack could notice in front of him was Sugarcube Corner, but Mac’s mind must have been running faster than a sugar rush. Figuring he would need some time to reset himself, she wandered over to the carrot cart, where a neighbor of hers also worked.
“Howdy, Golden Harvest,” Appejack greeted.
The counterpart replied to the greeting, “Hey there, Applejack, how are things going?”
“Good I suppose. Can’t complain too much, but Big Mac’s listening to that Trivia…whatever.”
“Oh, the Tuesday Trivia on The Vinyl Scratch?”
“How would you…”
The question needn’t be answered up front, a small, portable radio was playing near the front of the cart, the eccentric host speaking next, “And it looks like we have our first calling attempt. Care to tell us your name brave soldier?”
The first caller must have had minimal sleep, because when she spoke, the words seemed to take longer to say than a typical conversation, “Well…he-hello there. I’m…Berry Punch,” she added with a hearty yawn.
“Miss Punch,” Octavia welcomed, “do you have the answer to the question?”
A murmuring pause intensified the otherwise silent nature of the guess. Though unsure of the real answer, she figured some number would suffice, “Seven?”
Stiffling a laugh, Vinyl responded, “So sorry, not the right one.”
“Next time I guess,” the guest managed to irk out, “now if you don’t mind, Pinkie’s party ran late, and I didn’t bother to sleep last night.” With that, the phone was hung up before Vinyl could bid farewell.
“Well if that’s the case,” Harvest intervened during a minor ‘pause’ in the action, “Pinkie Pie has a party problem. She needs to know when to stop the party.”
“Which sounds to me like she has more of a timing problem,” Applejack offered, “She knows when to end a party, but she needs to learn when others need to leave.”
“I suppose that’s true; I always feel a mix of guilt and pride whenever I sneak out away from one of her parties. How have you managed it this long, AJ?”
Applejack was almost hesitant to bring up the point, “I suppose it comes with the territory of being friends I suppose. I don’t mind it as much as others do I guess, it’s just…”
The pause may have been to collect her thoughts, but they were thrust back to sea when the next caller went on to take a whip at the trivia question. The voice seemed to know what she was doing; must have prepared for this appearance because the first words Applejack’s ears caught was “Good morning, my name is-”
“Hold it there, princess,” Vinyl interrupted, “No need for formalities here, this is morning talk shows, we ain’t very dignified here.”
“My apologies,” the caller insisted, “I just wanted to see how life in Equestria was.”
Somehow, as if recollecting the lyrics of a lost song, Vinyl asked in surprise, “Wait, is this Princess Twilight Sparkle on the other line?”
“I suppose,” she answered, “at least since the coronation.”
“AWESOME!” as the screech almost broke the microphone via feedback, “Hey ‘Tavi! We got the first interview since her coronation!”
“You forgot The Fourth Wall.”
“’Tavi, I break it all the time when I address my listeners.”
“No, no, no, it’s a program where some character called ‘miss usa’ or something like that interviewed her the day after the coronation.”
“No matters,” the main DJ cooled, “she’s probably on the line to answer the trivia question anyway.”
Off the airwaves, Applejack pondered, “No offence to Twi, but I didn’t think princesses could…”
“…enter these things?” Golden Harvest finished, “I heard from my dad that Cadence tried before, but had to forfeit her prize because-”
The situation began to unfold with Octavia’s skepticism of her own, “Wait, Vinyl, can princesses even enter these things?”
The other host took an inhale as if to answer, but the breath retracted back out, “Dunno. Never had one call in before?”
The door to the recording room had been opened, and the steps of what must have been the manager of the station entered. Minor whispering was all the audience could grasp, but the end result was all too clear as Octavia broke the rules to the public, “Sorry, Miss Sparkle, apparently one of the clauses disallows princess entries.”
“Yet somehow, element of harmony holders can win an item once every thousand years. Must mean once a lifetime, a thousand years must be brutal.”
“It will be,” Twilight solemnly admitted, “But thanks for talking anyway.”
“I DIDN’T MEAN LIKE THAT!” she rushed to reverse, “I meant that’s a long time to live. Wait I mean…”
“Quit before you fall even further behind,” Octavia chuckled.
A deep sigh preceded the conversation’s final words, “Thanks for calling, Princess Twilight.”
“Any idea what the batting average would be?” Applejack had been too caught up in hearing Twilight’s unenthused state at the end of the radio call, and wasn’t paying attention to Harvest’s inquiry.
“Huh?” she managed to squeak out, buying her a second or two to form her reply, “I dunno, never really followed sports as much as Big Mac has.”
“There’s at least one in every family.”
“I s’ppose,” AJ admitted, “I just didn’t think he was this interested in the contest.”
“Everypony’s interested in these trivia questions, it’s just a matter of whether they offer something you want that week. Almost won a weekend for two to Manehatten, but I hadn’t remembered what Sapphire Shore’s first hit single was.”
“Remember what it was?”
“Nah, I think I kept it out of my mind since I got it wrong. I guessed it was ‘Silver Hound’, but that was a relatively recent hit.”
“I thought it was a while ago,” Applejack pondered alongside her friend, “but I guess not as long ago as the self-titled single.”
At the sudden realization, Harvest clunked herself upon the head, “No wonder I forgot the answer, it was too obvious, wasn’t it?”
“Eeeyup.”
The third voice had come from two different locations, humble yet eager in tone. Applejack’s eyes transfixed forward, viewing her brother who must have been deep in conversation with whoever was on the other line; her ears transfixed backward, listening in on who the conversation entailed:
“Alright Mr. Macintosh,” the peppy DJ began, “I see you’re ready to answer the question, but just as a reminder: Grand Slam may have hit 39 home runs last season, leading the Cloudsdale Freight (and hopefully our team this year), with eight carrying his namesake, but what was his batting average last season?”
Making sure the sentence ended Big Mac pounced while he could, “.298,” he rattled off in a single swoop.
“Wow,” Golden Harvest rattled off to her friend, “He knew that off the top of his head?”
“Of course not,” Applejack whispered, “he’s got a sportscard collection larger than an applecart. Gotta had it to him, though, he sure knows when to pull out those fancy mathematics when it’s in his favor.”
It was a simple decision as to who would join the two elder apple siblings for the game on Friday. Big Mac would take the most, bringing along Braeburn, Caramel, and Spike. Applejack invited two of her friends, but it was an easier choice than she would have thought in deciding who would go. Twilight had already mentioned that she would be the guest of honor for the game and was invited to a private box; Applejack understood. Fancypants invited Rarity to his own private box at the new stadium, which meant she wouldn’t want to be in a “peasant” section in front of the elites, but that didn’t matter to Applejack. Pinkie Pie more than obliged, and Fluttershy politely declined the opportunity; she knew the pegasus might not be comfortable among a sellout crowd, but it was worth an ask.
Rainbow Dash may have been the most athletic of the bunch, but that didn’t mean she would immediately jump at any opportunity for sports, “I already said, Applejack, not today.”
“Why not? Don’t you wanna come over to the Nationals game with Pinkie, Mac, and the rest of us?”
“I already said, it’s because I’m saving my money for Wonderbolts tickets, they cost a fortune these days.”
“But I’ve been… wait, why’re you saving for Wonderbolts tickets? I thought you see them constantly.”
“That may be,” admitted the cyan mare, “but they keep jacking up the price for it all. I would have had enough for a ticket Friday, but a ticket went from 25 to forty bits and there’s no way I could afford that with my other living expenses,” she punctuated with a harrumph.
Applejack took a sigh of despair and tried to cross her message to her friend, “Look, I know the Wonerbolts are essentially your life-”
“No duh.”
“But I’m not asking you to chip in with your bits.”
“Well, what do you expect me to chip in with? A date?”
“I’ve tried explaining to you,” the farm pony reminded, “the tickets are complimentary.”
“To what? Dinner?”
The apple pony’s brain hurt at the incomprehension at hand, “all ‘complimentary’ means is that it’s free. Macintosh couldn’t invite all his buddies, and we have to bring Applebloom and her friends along as well, so I’m invitin’ who I can.”
“Well, you aren’t getting me to go,” Rainbow stated, though this time her voice hesitated a smidgen with the possibility of accepting the offer, “it’s just not in my schedule.”
Applejack sighed, but never let on to her hint of seductiveness, “Well, go ahead, I guess you’re not going to see the Cloudsdale Freight play in that case.”
Suddenly, interest piqued, “I thought you said it was a Ponyville Nationals game.”
Aha, caught on the line, “You didn’t think they’d play themselves in a game, did you? Cloudsdale’ll be the visiting team.”
“You know what, 4 o’clock game? I think I’d be up for it. Only for hometown pride, though,” she was careful to add.
“And friendship,” Applejack added with a gentle bump of her friend.
“To a degree.”
Slightly before the start of the game, the nine ponies and the dragon arrived at Unico Field, the stadium which would be the home of Ponyville’s new team. Scootaloo gawked at the pure awesomeness of even the entryway, constructed in the same cyan shade of her idol. Sweetie Belle stood amazed at the concession stands, oohing at all the fattening choices that her older sister would have otherwise described as uncouth; Rainbow assured her they would get snacks after the third inning. As rough-and-tumble as Applebloom was, she hadn’t been impressed by the stadium itself, but then the ten of them decided to trot to their seats. Their seats rested two rows behind the home-team’s dugout – only nine of whom gladly appreciated the location - and the moment the young bowed filly traversed the alley into view of the field, there wasn’t another step her body would make for her.
Four hundred feet of dirt and grass stood in front of her, yet the distance felt like an open meadow. In a weak, though defined voice, the filly spoke to her friends, “Girls, our next cutie mark’s gonna be in baseball.” Without even waiting for a reply, Applebloom sped to the spot just before the field, next to the dugout. To the first player she was within earshot of, she shouted, “Hey, sir! Do ya think you could teach me baseball?”
Applejack hid under her hat in embarrassment, but the pegasus who heard first did not seem to mind. He had a brown coat, and a smooth mane a few shades of brown darker, but the party of ten should have known he would have been compassionate toward the young soul, “At least not now; you realize we have to prepare for the game.”
“Oh,” but the mode of sympathetic pity couldn’t last, “Would you be able to show me afterward?” she asked in optimism.
“Of course, we’re…”
He’d been cut off by a more brusque stallion, “We always have an on-field session after games.” Though his sympathetic tone sounded less genuine, he held his ego in check among the public audience, “It’s usually a meet and greet, but I might be able to teach a thing or two about hitting.”
Now, it was Rainbow Dash’s turn to abruptly address a player. She directed her faux angst at the charcoal stallion who had just spoken, “You know, Grand Slam, I still respect you, though it’s kinda less since you left Cloudsdale.”
The voice resonated with the home run hero, “Ah, Rainbow Dash. I remember your cheering for Cloudsdale early in our championship season three years ago.”
“I’m surprised you remembered, traitor,” she jested.
Slam managed to chuckle at the comment, however feeble it was, “Keep in mind, it was an expansion draft, not much of a choice.”
“Just warning you I’ll have split allegiances.”
“Noted.”
“Great,” Applejack managed to cut in during the conversation’s break, now could we all get back to our seats? It’s gonna be a few minutes before the game starts.”
Some in annoyance, some in acceptance, the remaining nine took to their seats, but Applejack noticed the tone the first stallion had taken. It seemed surprising to her, the charcoal earth pony was more hotheaded than the brown pegasus, but then again, she kind of saw it as a similar scenario to Rainbow Dash and herself, but the rolesseemed to have been reversed. Pinkie may be the one who knows everypony, but that didn’t mean she could be the only pony who knew others.
She managed to ask the colt, “Hey, partner. Never caught your name.”
He turned around to see the orange, freckled pony by the foul fence. As he was about to reply with his name, he managed to irk out, “oh, I’m Coe-” before somepony interrupted him.
“Cousin Applejack! Weren’t you the one who told us to get to the seats?”
“Be there in a moment, Braeburn!” she called out.
“Don’t worry,” the meek player replied, “every player has to stay for the field stuff afterward.”
Applejack would have replied, but the announcer interrupted the flow of mind and signaled her to return to her seat to listen to it all, “Fillies and gentlecolts, mares and stallions, welcome to Unico Field. Today, we commence the season and christen the Ponyville Nationals as they face the Cloudsdale Freight. If you would, please remove your hats as we sing the Equestrian National Anthem.”
Although most would recognize the music as the Hearthswarming tune, it still lightened the spirits of the thousands attending the game. Just before the trailing words, the crowd erupted in cheers, as the ceremonial first pitch was about to be thrown. Twilight had been the ceremonial guest, but opted to let a filly from the local orphanage launch it in; she went by Melody and must have been at least a year younger than Applebloom. After a swift inside strike on the left side of the plate, Twilight trotted back to the mound and handed the pitched ball to Melody, after which a young colt promptly shouted “PLAY BALL!!!” at the cue of the PA announcer.
As the Nationals took to the field first, an angsty Rainbow Dash vented, “It’s about time.”
“Yeah,” Scootaloo added in accordance, “Let’s get my first game underway.”
Rainbow took pride that the youngster loved the sport as much, “Come on, Let’s go Cloudsdale!”
“Let’s go Ponyville!” Scootaloo’s statement accidentally synchronized over Rainbow’s. She felt some need to correct, “I mean…Cloudsdale.”
But even Rainbow had to concede, “Scoots, I know Ponyville’s your adopted hometown, no need to hide it.”
The first Cloudsdale batter, a blue earth pony, swung his bat with his teeth, but missed his third strike from the pitcher. Scootaloo made sure she was thankful toward the pitcher, “WOO-HOO! Way to go, Rolling Strikes!”
With the whoops and cheers of Scootaloo, Applejack couldn’t help but giggle at her friend’s minor dismay, “Now, now, sugarcube, there’s still 26 more outs before your side is over.”
“At a minimum,” Pinkie corrected.
“But it’s not gonna take longer than that, is it?” asked Caramel.
“Probably not, but it’s one of the sports I’ve noticed goes into extra time often, and sometimes, even the nine inning games can last between three and five hours.”
Whatever situation had occurred, the conversation broke off with a crack from a purple pegasus. The aluminum bat as his cutie mark should have given away his power potential, as the ball soared deep into left field. Another defensive pegasus soared up to the fence, jumped up high, and made an attempt to flap his wings in order to gain potential leverage. That swipe down of the wings led to his outstretched glove, which also rested on his left wing, but despite holding out the gloved wing, had run into a force field, letting the ball soar in to the stadium’s picnic grass for a home run as he fell flat onto the ground.
While a small few cheered the early lead, Sweetie Belle wasn’t buying it, “Hey, isn’t that cheating? Shouldn’t he have been able to fly on up to catch that?”
While not knowing much about baseball, Applebloom knew the basics, “Well I can’t fly. An earth pony’s at a natural disadvantage at a game like this.”
“But that doesn’t explain why he was stopped.”
“Action Umpires,” Big Mac tried to explain.
Spike, who knew a simpler way to explain it, made his attempt at explaining for his younger audience, who held a blank stare at Applebloom’s brother’s attempt,“It’s really a case of magic guards. There are neutral ponies who make sure that the game is not only fair between teams, but so the unicorns can’t use magic to teleport the ball to their glove – we’d be here for at least fifty innings if that happened – and so pegasai can’t jump as high to make sure they retrieve the ball.”
Sweetie Belle took the explanation well, and cheered the home run. Fairly quickly, she retracted the erroneous cheer for the away team.
The next actions didn’t take place until the bottom of the fourth. The Freight still led 1-0, but despite the tense nature, Rainbow felt a need to yawn. Despite the early home run, there was little action to liven the mood. Occasionally, a ball would be hit to the outfield, but the Nationals players would always be under it. The closest to a hit came as Grand Slam bashed one on the shortstop side, but Swift Sands dove for it, and while he overshot the ball on the slide, he managed to buck the baseball to first base for the out.
While the plays were entertaining, Rainbow Dash needed some ‘action,’ “Hey, Scoots, Sweetie Belle, you two still hungry?”
Ears perked up, Sweetie replied, “Sheesh, I thought I was going to have to wait forever to eat!”
“Eh,” Scootaloo nonchalantly agreed, “may as well get some popcorn or some snack of the sorts. You gonna come along as well, Applebloom?”
As connected as the yellow filly was to her comrades, she felt compelled to the game at hoof, “You girls go ahead, I’ll tell you about what happens while you’re gettin’ stuff.”
“Thanks,” responded Rainbow Dash with a vapid tone, careful to add in whisper to her fan, “don’t worry, we’re not going to miss much.”
Neither pony anticipated that Sweetie Belle needed to use the little fillies’ room, which took four outs of the game just to stand in the line for that, and another five outs worth, but it felt as if the bathroom line took longer. With all three now empty and ready to be filled again, returning to their row with nachos, pizza, and popcorn in hoof, they came back and looked at the scoreboard in shock. Ponyville now held a 3-1 lead in the top of the seventh.
Rainbow had no words to describe her confusion, only one question: “How did this happen?”
“Well, it all started when…” Big Mac started off before being cut off by his youngest sibling.
“Big Mac! I said I’d tell’em the story,” Applebloom reminded, and proceeded to tell a shortened version of he would have recounted, “Cracked Contact hit a bases loaded double with two outs in the fourth, the inning you left actually.”
“So let me get this straight,” Scoots expressed, “The only awesome thing since the first inning, and we missed it?” All Applebloom and the cast along the row needed to do to answer was nod their heads to the inquiry.
“Not cool,” Rainbow moped in mental pain, “It’s just like reading the review for Daring Do and the Crystal Muffin; since I knew how it happened before I even saw it, it’s not awesome anymore.”
Pinkie tried to lighten the mood, “Aw, come on, Rainbow, don’t be all disappointed because your team is down, there’s still a few more innings to go. I mean, the party can’t end early, can it?”
“I appreciate the attempt,” Rainbow deadpanned, “but Pinkie, could you please shut up?”
The top of the ninth should have been a lockdown win, or in this case, a save opportunity for Lockdown, but this was one of his few games where he faltered. He’d already let a run score in the top of the eighth, but now there were two runners in scoring position and two outs in a 3-2 Ponyville game. Cloudsdale’s batter, Second Chance, launched one to deep right field, letting the two runs score, but Ponyville caught a break when Chance tried to take second base. The right fielder gave a great heave into second base, and the tag just snatched the runner from an extra base. Cheers rang out, but most of them cheered in relief rather than gratitude.
Most being the qualifier, as a certain cyan pegasus cheered for different reasons, “Ha-ha. Did you see that? 4-3 Cloudsdale. We should have this one down for sure.”
“Don’ get too cocky about yourself,” Braeburn cautioned, “There’s still the final frame to go.”
“Yea, but you can’t beat Final Flank! He was second in the league in saves, and he’s gonna get the great season started off right.”
Indeed, Flank had 42 saves for Cloudsdale the previous season, but even a strong, constant pitcher as he was couldn’t have a perfect save record. His inning started off well enough, a simple strikeout swinging on a 2-2 count. The pitcher caught himself in a rut, and it started with just one hit. Line Drive, the next Ponyville batter to the plate, shot one right down the first base line, and it caromed off the corner of fair/foul territory, Drive darted toward second, and dashed his way to third. While the throw was no way near the base, L.D. thought it best to slide to be on the safe side. There was no way he would run home on his own; he would need help.
That would have come from Swinging Strike, but the coach decided to pull him for a pinch hitter. It was the familiar brown pegasus Applejack and the others had met before the game, and the announcer gave the name, “Now pinch-hitting for the Ponyville Nationals, Number 34, Helping Hearts!”
Rolling off to the aisle as part of her laughter, Rainbow managed to explain her optimism, “Wow, ha-ha, you’re kidding me. Old Aiding Hearts? He batted .185 last season! He’s going to be Ponyville’s last hope?”
“It’s only one down now,” Pinkie reminded, as she briefly paused as the crowd did once strike one buzzed by, “Besides, Hearts over there led the entire Daimonds League with 52 sacrifice hits for the Coltimore Mustangs last year. Not to mention that in six seasons alone, he’s accrued 311 over his career to this point, a career league record.”
Rainbow Dash stared at her perplexing friend, not really knowing where to go with her retort, “How…did you… know… something like that?”
Pinkie had a simple answer, “Somepony’s gotta keep track of these stats,” and she watched one final pitch cross the plate.
At a 2-1 pitch, the colt at bat swung at a pitch slightly inside, but early enough to drive it deep to left field. The crowd gasped in silence as it could have very well been Helping Heart’s first home run in his career. Regrettably, it dropped into the outfielder’s glove, but that didn’t lead to groans, but rather to deeper breaths as Line Drive tagged up and rushed his way home. The launch of a throw soared in the air, but to the Freight’s dismay, it sailed into the stands, and the run scored, tying the game 4-4.
“WHAT?!” screeched Rainbow, but her dumbfoundedness had been drowned out by the roar of the crowd. New life for a new franchise.
There was barely any time for anypony in the crowd to question what could happen next. In a state of frustration, Final Flank tossed a strike right down the middle; it was a pitch that Grand Slam could not refuse.
“Oh, Celestia!” Applebloom gasped, “Look at that thing soar!”
“It’s going deep,” Sweetie Belle commented further. The center fielder tried rushing toward right, but gave up running when he realized that even his jump would not be able to acquire the rogue pitch.
“It’s OUTTA HERE!!!” Scootaloo punctuated, just before the home crowd erupted as well. A 5-4 win in the last at-bat for the Nationals, and even Rainbow had to concede defeat here, her Cloudsdale idol had clinched the game for the rival, but she had no less respect for him. When Grand Slam trotted his way back to home plate, the team glomped him in celebration. The thirty-someodd ponies joined him, but Applejack noticed the mess was a shade of brown short.
Indeed, as she got up from her seat, and peered into the dugout, Helping Hearts, or Aiding Hearts as Rainbow put it, remained in his bench-bound seat in a downed state. She wanted to know what happened, but then the announcer gave the news that Applebloom sought before the game started:
“Folks, if you wanted to ask a question to any of our players, or even just get an autograph, feel free to come onto the field now and ask away!”
“If anypony wants to leave now,” Applejack hollered, “Y’all can do so. I was gonna take Applebloom to see the players.”
While the filly gawked with wide eyes, this gave Big Mac and the other guys to split off, “Thanks, but we best be going, Caramel said he wanted to head back to his place, and we’d rather not let him travel back on his own.”
“Understood,” replied Rainbow Dash, Applejack let it slide as the group’s official statement, “Come on, Crusaders! If you want to earn a baseball cutie mark, you’re gonna have to ask them how they got theirs,” and with that, the remaining girls rushed onto the field.
Applejack followed last, she had a question she wanted to ask as well, though she found it rather ironic that she wanted to ask her question to the only player on the team without a cutie mark in baseball.
Confusion Around, but Always Helping, However Hindered
By no means were the Cutie Mark Crusaders the only ponies around the hero of the game, but their size made it rather easy to make it toward the center. Sneaking under a few others, they managed to reach the main circle around Grand Slam. Rainbow volunteered to bring the three fillies to the session, and managed to squirm her way to the middle as well. She managed to find them in the crowd, but was shocked to have found Pinkie Pie first.
“Pinkie? I thought you were behind me.”
“I was.”
“But,” Rainbow struggled to form her thoughts, “now you’re here.”
“Well, why wouldn’t I be here?”
That is a good question, Rainbow pondered, but she decided not to vocalize her thoughts and let the question’s answer remain unsolved, as with every other Pinkie Pie explanation. To her and to any other pony she knew, the explanations of the crazy partier would have to wait until much later as the hero of the game was being asked all sorts of questions of his own.
The first one came from child-reporter Featherweight, a question for his school’s newspaper, “Grand Slam, how do you feel about the game as a whole? Pretty neat end if I do say so.”
The ‘hero’ chuckled briefly at the feeble-vocaled colt, but nonetheless responded with certainty and fortitude, “You know, it’s always great when we can end it great for the home team. Still a little disappointed that I couldn’t stay with Cloudsdale to end my career, but gotta help out where I could.”
Another reporter, this one from a more prestigious national news station, pounced on the opportunity posed from the last statement, “Do you think you’ll return to Cloudsdale after the remaining three years on your contract?” the question, however, had nearly been drowned out by a slew of young foals asking the bulky stallion for an autograph.
Grand Slam was able to answer the question, but only between moments where he signed his name with his mouth, “Well, I know it might not be perfect,… I mean, would I love to be a lifetime Cloudsdaler?... Of course, but you know,… that’s how contracts work, and I look to make the best out of what I’ve been given…”
The third question of the session came from nopony of importance to the news cycle. She waited for Slam to recognize her tiny, yellow hoof raised into the air, and asked the question she dreamed of since viewing the field, “Hey, Mister! Do you think you could teach me how to play baseball?” The question received laughs from the crowd, but Applebloom mildly huffed at how her inquiry didn’t seem to be well-received.
Although the charcoal pony responded to the answer, the young filly knew his response rolled off as a script would, “Kid, my advice for playing good baseball is to practice whenever you can, and then you can achieve greatness as well.”
“But I still don’t have an answer,” Applebloom protested.
Her point was cut off from punctuating her point by a yet another reporter, though this one was an experienced griffon from the Equestrian Network of Sports Programming. As someone of such a high-standing station, his tone carried the prestige as well, “Mr. Slam, do you feel you could have still hit the home run if your team was still down?”
“Well, it was going to be tied one way or another,” he contested, “I mean, I was still gonna get a hit in the game,” Grand Slam took a brief pause as the reporters and fans chuckled, nopony paying attention to Applebloom’s growing fury. The ‘hero’ continued, “Being serious, I don’t quite think I would have hit a home run, but I feel confident in my abilities in hitting. You don’t reach the top ten in batting because you’re lucky.”
There were more questions from fans, and more to add to previous points, but Applebloom made a turn around to exit the pile. Scootaloo had raised her hoof to ask something, and Sweetie Belle would have too if she hadn’t caught a glimpse of dismayed yellow out of the corner of her eyes.
Sweetie caught her close by, so her squeaky voice didn’t need to screech too loud, “Hey, Applebloom! Where you heading?”
“See if I can find Applejack,” she replied, “seems to be the only pony around here who understands modesty.”
“Aww, don’t feel that way,” she tried to console, “all of us Crusaders are modest… even if…I’m not entirely sure what that means.”
The two had overheard Scootaloo, who had apparently been chosen to ask the next question: “What exactly makes you so awesome?” she inquired cheerfully.
As if it was a question he was asked on a daily basis, Grand Slam replied with certainty, “Well, many ponies are born great...” taking a pause to let the laughter flow through.
Applebloom didn’t listen to the other end of the comment, “Ya see Sweetie Belle? That’s what the opposite of modesty is. ‘What makes you awesome?’ ‘I was born with it.’ Granted, it’s bluntly put, but that’s how it is.”
Although the tiny white filly didn’t understand the entirety of what Applebloom intended, she understood the departure, “Fine by me. I‘d think she’d be near where we sat for the game.”
“Thanks for that,” and following the comment, Appleblom scootched her way out of the pack around Grand Slam. Elsewhere around the field, she noticed that other players were being interviewed for other stations around Equestria. Despite there being fewer players than were on either team, she figured there were a few that didn’t play in the game, so there was no reason to be asked anything on the field. One player stood out to her, and he was sitting back in the dugout. He was the first pegasus player she met when coming out to the seats, and it appeared she was not the only one to be interested in him. The other pony who was, however, surprised her. Maybe Applebloom should have expected this; just before the start of the game, Applejack wanted to talk to him, but had been called back to her seat before the game.
The filly could tell her sister had already asked a few questions, and even if it was part of Applebloom’s naïve nature, she asked one of her own, “Hey Applejack, is he your new coltfriend? You've barely even met him.”
“Applebloom! Ain’t that a little abrupt of a question?”
“Well,” she defended, “are you two friends?”
“Sure, but that doesn't mean we’re together.”
“Though it would be appropriate to have introductions…uh, Applejack, is it?” the pegasus added.
“Ya didn’t introduce yourself, Applejack? For shame,” but Applebloom didn't leave any room for her sister to give a viable answer, “Mister, this is my big sister, Applejack. She helps run Sweet Apple Acres, cooked for Cadence’s wedding, and is the Element of Honesty!” Applebloom took great pride in what she conveyed.
Applejack, on the contrary, was not fond of the attention being thrust upon her, and tried to restore modesty, “Now, Applebloom, that’s not really anything to be bragging about.”
The player took a brief bow of honor, “Beg my pardon, I wasn’t aware you were one of the bearers of the Elements of Harmony.”
“Get back up, partner,” Applejack was quick to mention, “No need for formalities. Although, would you mind tellin’ us your name.”
“My name’s Coeur Aidant,” he spoke with pride.
Both Apple sisters gave a blank stare at him, the elder one talked first, “Wait, the announcer said ‘Helping Hearts’…”
“…and our friend, Rainbow Dash, called you Aiding Hearts.”
“So, how does…which one is correct?”
“All of them,” he stated. Noticing how the blank stares continued, he asked as a result, “Would you prefer me to explain what I mean by that?”
There was no vocal reply, but two heads nodding gave the clue.
“Very well,” and thus, he explained, “You see, my father’s name was ‘Helping Hoof’, and my name deviates from that. My real name stems from my mother, Vitesse. She was of Marisian descent, and when my parents decided to name me, they took the best of both; thus, came Coeur Aidiant. Roughly translated, it means Aiding Hearts, and I was typically known as Aiden, stemming from Aiding Hearts, while in school. When I got…’picked up’ by a new family, My name transferred from my descending name directly, which explains why ‘Helping Hearts’ is the name I went by on the lineup card, a literal translation of my birth name. Hope that explains enough for you two.”
The explination was sufficient, but Applebloom wondered about one given point, “So wait, what exactly do you mean by ‘picked up’ by a new family?”
Before she could receive an answer, a certain cream-pink mare wandered into the dugout, “Aiding Hearts, care for an interview?”
The voice was graciously familiar, “Ah, Namby Pamby, you know it’s so great to be able to talk to you again. The only pony who actually calls me by my preferred name.”
“It’s what I do. Gotta be gracious to my guests if I want an honest interview.”
“Oh,” he took a brief pause to ask of the siblings, “Do you mind waiting a minute or two while I’m interviewed?”
“Not at all,” Applebloom answered, but Applejack gave a nod in agreement, “Not like we gotta be anywhere soon.”
As the bulk of the interview got going, the other friends who had remained for the interview session on field had grown tired and sought to trot home. Out of all the ponies who weren’t Pinkie, Rainbow had held the most energy, and even then, it wasn’t by much. “Hey AJ!” the cyan pegasus shouted, “We were about to trot on back to bring Sweetie Belle home, gonna come along or what?”
“If she needs to be home soon, just go ahead,” Applejack reasoned, “Applebloom and I were gonna wait for Aiden over here.”
“Can I stay here with them? Just for a few minutes…” inquired Sweetie Belle.
Rainbow was about to bring up a certain point, but Scootaloo brought it up first, “It’s gonna take us about twenty minutes before we get back to Carousel Boutique, and if we don’t get back soon, it’ll be past the curfew Rarity has for you.”
“OhCelestiaYou’reRight!” Sweetie Belle rushed with panic, “Let’sGetGoingBeforeWe’reTooLateAndIGetPunished!”
“Let’s meet up tomorrow at noon in the clubhouse,” Scootaloo hurredly explained to Applebloom, “Decide which cutie mark to shoot for next and all that stuff. See ya later.”
“See ya, Scoots! See ya Sweetie Belle!” as Applebloom waved her hoof farewell to the departing party.
As the interview ran to a close, Namby Pamby asked one final question before parting off, “So, Aiden, with the sacrifice hit which helped the team, how do you feel your role with the Ponyville Nationals will change?”
“What role?” he asked.
The tone had been more somber than Aiding Hearts had portrayed until this point. Namby initially considered it sarcasm, “Your spot on the roster. Don’t you think you’ll have a more prominent role after today?”
“Well…if it’ll be with a team, it’s not with Ponyville.”
“What’s that s’posed to mean?” Applejack interjected.
Aiden gladly expanded what he meant, “I got waived by the team after the game. My average has been poor throughout my career, and they knew it, but since Ponyville meant so much to me in the past, they took me in on a short-term contract. While it would have lasted a few more games beyond this, they felt any given prospect would be superior to my possible output.”
Curiosity struck Applebloom in the last statement, “Was it a wave hello or goodbye?” She likely knew the answer, but had to ask anyway.
That’s not really what it means to be waived, Aiden thought to himself, but to suffice the question, he responded, “Without getting into many details, it was like a wave goodbye. But look, Applebloom, did you still want to learn how to play baseball?”
The yellow filly’s ears perkedup in optimism, but her face held a look of shock, eyes agape, “You’re still willing to do that?”
“Assuming Miss Pamby is done with her interview, that is.”
The reporter folded her notebook and shoved it back into her bag, “That’ll be all for now. Hope to see you soon, I know the most generous player in the league will find his talent soon enough.” With a final wink of luck, Namby Pamby left on her way.
“See you soon,” As Aiden saw his friend depart, he regained his optimism in the sight of the filly beside her, “Alright Applebloom, just grab a bat and let’s walk onto the field.”
Applebloom clenched one of the bats in her teeth, but lifting it up proved to be a difficult task. Picking up the handle was a simple task, but the barrel of the bat proved to be a stronger challenge. While she was able to raise it level with her head, it only lasted about three seconds as the pressure from the bat’s weight caused her to drop it entirely, “Don’cha have a smaller bat?”
Aiden shook his head, “At a major league park, there isn’t really any equipment for foals and-”
“Hold on a second!” Shouted a party-ready pony from the side of the dugout, “I think I’ve got a bat somewhere around here.” Pinkie Pie shuffled around her mane for the required item.
Applejack deadpanned her enthusiasm, “Let me guess, you have bats stashed all over in case of bat emergencies?”
“Not really,” Pinkie mentioned, as the bat she pulled out was a small blueberry fruit bat from her mane, “I keep cutesy and wutsie bats in my mane for bat emergencies.” She waved goodbye to the bat, but now pondered her next move, “Now where do I keep my baseball bats?... Oh, that’s right. I keep sports equipment in my tail.” After minor rummaging in her tail, she pulled out a small baseball bat which suited Applebloom much better, “in case of sports emergencies.”
Nopony bothered to question the antics of Pinkie Pie, though now it was Aiding Heart’s turn to find a need to sit as a result in order to attempt to comprehend. Applebloom’s words snapped him out of the contemplative state, “So, how exactly do you play baseball?”
A small chuckle preceded the instruction, “Well, you already know how to field the ball, right?”
“Pretty much just catch it or launch it to whichever base it’s needed.”
“So it appears to me that you just need to find out how to hit.” He tried positioning Applebloom as he explained the batting stance, “Okay, so you need to clench the bat in your mouth and keep your forehooves still on the ground, got it?”
“Erh-herh,” Applebloom squeaked through her clenched teeth.
“Now, as the pitch is being launched, you jump your forehooves to you right and to hit the ball, you jump to the left and jerk your head as well. It helps ease the stress on your neck as you lunge forward. I’m guessing you’re ready to at least attempt to hit a pitch.”
“Yes Sir!” the bowed filly cheered, which allowed her bat to fall to the ground. Almost immediately, she picked it up and stood ready to launch a ball deep.
All Aiden could do was giggle at the mistake, it was one he also made as a younger colt. He was ready to start pitching. Cradling the ball in his right wing, he gave it a light underhand toss and crossed Applebloom’s vision as she swung the bat with all her might.
But she swung at air. In fact, she had already seen the ball wiz by before even attempting the swing. “Maybe you could swing a little earlier,” Aiding Hearts encouraged, “you know, when I’m about to launch it. Make sure you’re watching where the ball is, though, can’t be swinging at invisible piñatas.”
“Ah s’pose,” Applebloom managed to mouth through the clenched bat. A second pitch came, and while the bat did cross the plate at the same time as the ball, both missed once again. The swing, however, was even worse, striking downward as opposed to across. It was clear from her drooped expression that the filly felt as if she could no longer attempt a baseball cutie mark.
Aiden was not as keen to give up, “Maybe you’re just left-hoofed at batting.”
“Left-hoofed?” Applejack was even as confused as her inquiring sister.
“All I mean by that is that maybe switching sides of the plate to get a smoother swing. That’s why there are two batting boxes, some ponies hit from the right side, and some from the left.”
Applebloom took a trot to the other side of the imaginary home plate. She was ready to swing at the pitch, but then remembered she needed to switch around her bat; didn’t want to hit the catcher with the pitch. As the third pitch was lobbed in, Applebloom took a mighty, smooth hack at the pitch, which buzzed by Aiden’s left. Applebloom shrieked, “I did it! I did it!” She took a quick look at her flank, realizing it was as barren as before.
“Don’t feel too bad, little filly. It takes a fair number of hits before you even come close to receiving your cutie mark.”
As comforting of a statement as that was, it raised a sort of red flag for the Crusader. Who was this guy to say when anypony would get a cutie mark? His flank was as empty as hers, and he was many years her elder. The filly’s curiosity got the better of her, “Mister Hearts, why don’t you have your cutie mark yet? Aren’t you an adult?”
“Applebloom!” Applejack snapped, “That ain’t an appropriate question to casually ask anypony!”
“You’d be surprised how often I’m asked that, though.”
“Really?” both sisters asked.
Aiden nodded his head in merry dismay. Although Applejack had been the one to dismiss the initial inquiry, she was now curious, “Now I guess I have to wonder somethin’. If you’ve been a baseball player, and this is your seventh season, then why don’t you have a baseball cutie mark?”
The younger Apple gave the beginnings of a taunting look, but changed her mind once she saw Aiding Hearts in a dejected state. As many times as he had heard it, it still pained him to listen to that again, and even moreso when he had to repeat what he said many times before, “You see…neither of my parents were talented at baseball. My father worked for a charity, but my mother was a… Actually,” he interjected with a hint of optimism, “Do you two have an hour or so? I’d like to bring you somewhere where the story might make more sense.”
Applejack agreed, and Applebloom more than obliged, even if it was to just make sure Aiden conducted himself honestly in front of her sister. There was no reason for Aiden to take advantage of a romantic opportunity, he just wanted to showcase why his past has led him to his blank vision of himself.
“Does it really need to take half an hour to get there?” Applebloom protested, “We could have gotten back to our home before arriving here.”
In reality, it had been just twenty minutes, and while it was true Sweet Apple Acres was twenty minutes from the stadium, it was only another ten from the center of Ponyville, “Applebloom! It’s quite rude to say that to anypony that thay’re holding you up.”
“Now, now,” Aiden tried to reason, “I know she’s your younger sister, but at least out of what I go through on a constant basis where we’re going, I’ve been asked questions too immoral for me to answer.”
The filly took her chance to poke her tongue out, but Applejack scoffed it off. Applebloom took it as a chance to ask again, but a smidgen more dignity in her question, “If you don’t mind me askin’ this of you, why are we heading into town?”
Her elder sibling added to the question, “And what exactly are we doing over there anyway?”
On the edge of the town, at the only three story stand-alone building in Ponyville, Aiding Heart turned around to face the Apple sisters. His façade took a more ominous look as he sought the attention of them both, “I should probably mention why I’ve brought you here, but do you mind if it takes a while to explain?”
Both siblings nodded, so he was free to continue.
“Well, the troubles started when I was a foal. My father went to Las Pegasus for what he planned to be a month, but after… ‘certain circumstances’… my mother disallowed him from the household. He never came back after that point, but I don’t think he wanted to anyway. Especially after what happened to Vitesse.
Applebloom interrupted with the inevidable question, “What happened to yer mother?”
Even while Aiding Hearts struggled to form his words – words Applejack could see strain in his face as he tried to tell them – as he spoke. While scattered in though, it remained coherent, “Well…you see…my mother was one of the racing Wonderbolts. She actually won the Wonderbolts Derby about fifteen years before Luna’s return.”
Taking a more inopportune pause, Applejack tried to lighten his mood, “Well, you should meet my friend, Rainbow Dash. She knows all there is to know about them Wonderbolts.”
“Even the DEAD ONES?!” Aiding Hearts snapped back, unwarranted. His booming retort left Applebloom scared and the original talker even more dismayed. Quickly, Aiden tried backtracking on his shouting, “I’m…I’m so sorry…I didn’t mean to it’s just…”
Applejack opened her mood to calm him down, “It’s quite a sore spot, ain’t it?”
After a few deep breaths, he continued, albeit with harder spirits, “You see… about two years after she won…she brought…brought me to another race. Most of it was fine. That was…until Lightning Strike tried to overtake her….They…they crashed with about two laps to go, and while Strike struck the clouds…well…”
“She struck the crowd?” Though knowing the impact of what she said, Applebloom still hoped for the best case scenario.
“At first,” he admitted, “but then she crammed into… into…”
“Ya don’t need to tell us how it happened,” the farmer pony implored as she placed a hoof around him in a friendly embrace, “but I would like to know what happened after the whole ruckus.”
Any remnants of tears were wiped away from the current state of mind, but it still didn’t help Aiden’s mood, “You see…I would have gone to my father next, but since he essentially gave up ownership of my, I was out of luck.”
The filly couldn’t comprehend, “Why wouldn’t your father want you?”
Trying his best to explain, he tried keeping the terms to a minor level, “Um…let me put it this way: He went to Pegasus to join the Shadowbolts. What they do is….well…you know how a mother and father produce a foal?”
The yellow pony nodded her head. In haste, her older sister requested of her sibling, “But do you know how they’re made?” When Applebloom shook her head, Applejack grinned in satisfaction, “good.”
“All I was gonna say,” Aiden clarified, “Was that the Shadowbolts…do that stuff without actually making a child in the first place. Didn’t stop them from…”
The last sentence trailing into a rambling that confused the viewers, “Uh, beg your pardon?” the elder inquired.
“Nevermind that too much,” fast to dismiss, he went on, “anyway, long story short, I got sent to this orphanage. Yeah, in Ponyville, but it was the only one I felt comfortable with staying at.”
“How long did you stay there?” Though the younger asked, both wanted to know.
“Must have been at least three years.”
“THREE?!”
“Yeah,” he sighed, half in dismay and half in reminiscence, “Nopony wanted a pegasus like me. So I ended up working and helping the owners of the place. They’ve kinda changed over time, but their intentions have been the same throughout. The younger ones always loved my help. So even after I got adopted from the home, I always continued to help out, not matter how busy I might get.”
“But is that your special talent?”
“Oh, Applebloom,” it was the first time he addressed the filly by name, but he wanted to be calm in nature to her, “I’ve been told that if I had my cutie mark, it would have been something related to daycare or something similar.”
The explanation would not do, “But if that’s the case, then why have you been playing baseball?”
In the epitome of upfront honesty, he elaborated, “I might not be the best in terms of talent, but even the common players, there’s bits to be had. Horsepower can only do so much in physically helping them.”
It might not have been all there was to know, it was at least enough to know what to expect. Applejack wanted to know, “So, does that mean we’re prepared to help out with whatever it is we can do?”
Aiden grew a smile, a nice boost to his mood knowing somepony was willing to help, “Dinner should be just about over. It might just be story time, but if you want to see what there is inside, you both are welcome to stay.”
Both sisters nodded, Applebloom a little less sure of what she wanted to do, but was at least willing to play along with her sister.
“Good to know,” but before opening the door, he gave one last point of information, “Oh, just for the record…I mean no offense to the foals…but make sure you leave with what you went in with. Some of these ponies were raised by sleazy parents, and don’t always know the best way to go about things.”
