Amanda Perkins watched the huge man standing beside her hospital bed cradling their newborn son in his muscular arms. A smile spread across his deeply tanned face, a face that had been weathered by too much sun and wind, and aged beyond its years.
         " Maybe Jordan won't want to play baseball." she said gently.
         "Joe Bob Perkin's son not play baseball?!" Joe Bob exclaimed, beaming at the sleeping infant.
        Amanda smiled, tucking a stray lock of blonde hair behind her ear. Joe Bob referred to his brief but illustrious career as a shortstop for the University of Texas Longhorns. Sadly, she never got to see him play ball, an injury ended his career long before she'd met him when they were both in their junior year at UT. Over the years whenever Joe Bob regaled her with tales of his exploits on the diamond, the very retelling transformed him into that fresh faced youth. In those stories he possessed unlimited potential, a fragile thing that disappeared in the seconds it took to rip a muscle. Now all she could do was watch helplessly while one by one his dreams drifted away in the dust he battled to eke out a living as a West Texas cotton farmer.
        Even though Amanda understood that Joe Bob felt he had to give up his dreams and didn't want that for his son; she didn't want him tagging her son with the responsibility of living out his father's dreams before Jordan had a chance to have his own.
        "Oh, I get it!" Joe Bob said suddenly, looking up his wife, "You want Jordie here to play the cello--well, Mandie, no son of mine--"
       Having just given birth and not up to arguing, Amanda wearily held up a slender hand to silence her husband, "No," she began, "that's not it. I think we should let him decide for himself."
       Joe Bob took Amanda's hand. This was not the time to fight with her. He regarded his wife in amazement. Even though her delicate features were clouded with exhaustion she was still the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen and after four years of marriage, he still couldn't believe she'd left a promising musical career to live on a cotton farm with a broken down ball player.
       He remembered the first time he watched her in concert furiously bowing her cello while performing a swift passage of music. He recalled fondly how her blue eyes blazed and errant strands of pale blonde hair flew about her face as she attacked her instrument. He knew then, as she willed each note forward, that he would marry this good-looking woman so passionate about fiddle music.
      Joe Bob brought Amanda's hand to his lips, "All right, Mandie, we'll let him decide."
      An uneasy truce grew between Amanda and Joe Bob from those first moments of Jordan's life. Both were careful to keep their respective passions from influencing their son. That is, until Jordan turned five and Joe Bob couldn't stand it any more and had to get his son on a Tee-ball team. Amanda didn't argue when Joe Bob approached her with the Tee-ball proposition, not wanting to disturb the first hopeful look she'd seen on his face in a long while. Besides, it was a good excuse for Jordan to spend time with his father.
       After six weeks of Tee-ball games it was apparent to Joe Bob that Jordan wasn't good at hitting a baseball off the tall mental tee. He was even less talented catching or throwing the ball once another five year old hit it off the tee, standing in the outfield as if in a trance, letting ball after ball drop in front of him. His inept playing exasperated his father to the point of giving up on Jordan entirely. That's when a friend told Joe Bob that it might not be a question of talent but Jordan's inability to concentrate and suggested music lessons would improve his concentration.
        "Why can't you teach him, Mandie?" Joe Bob asked, after telling Amanda what his friend had proposed.
        "Because I'm a cellist, not a cello teacher. Besides, do you really want him to do this?"
        "If it helps his ball playing."
        "Well, it'll help with concentration and coordination. But--"
        " But what?"
        "What if he's better at music than ball?"
        "Right now he's better at sitting still than at ball. I'm desperate, Mandie. Let's try it and see if it helps."
        Amanda arranged for Jordan to take cello lessons three times a week. During the second week his teacher took Amanda aside and confirmed something she already suspected. She just didn't know how she was going to tell Joe Bob.
        "Are you sure, Mandie?" he asked, as they stood side by side watching Jordan play in the backyard from their kitchen window.
        "Yep, his teacher agreed with me."
        "There's no mistake?"
        "Nope. He's tone deaf. We could give him lessons from now until the cows come home and he still wouldn't be able to play the cello." Amanda replied, slipping her arm around her husband's waist.
        "But you and me, we're both so talented! How can Jordie be so--so ordinary?"
        Amanda gazed lovingly at her small son as he kicked a soccer ball  around the yard, "Does it matter? I mean, even if he turns out to be ordinary, we'd still love him."
        Turning his back to the window, Joe Bob put his arms around Amanda, "Of course we will, Mandie. But boyhood is very competitive and he'll need an edge. Life won't be easy if he's just ordinary." he sighed, pulling her closer.
        Looking over Joe Bob's shoulder out the window, Amanda saw Jordan kick the soccer ball and watched in awe as it sailed through the middle of an old tire swing supended from a tree limb on the other side of the yard. She smiled, in spite of his parents and without their help, it seemed Jordan had found his edge.
An Ordinary Son Finds His Edge