Chapter 10 → "Rainy Days, Big Dreams" (2014)
Rain blurred the windowpane, streaks of gray rolling downward like tiny rivers. Adrian sat on the windowsill with his legs tucked up close to his chest, a worn rubber ball held lightly in his hand. He rolled it between his palms over and over, feeling the slight tackiness of its surface, the soft give of its old leather cracked from constant use.
Outside, Warsaw looked quieter than usual. The streets were slick with rain, puddles gathering at the corners of sidewalks. Even the neighborhood kids who usually chased each other around the block were nowhere to be seen.
Adrian sighed. "Why does it always rain when I want to practice?"
Behind him, the low hum of Marek flipping through a newspaper could be heard. The scent of Elżbieta's stew drifted from the kitchen, warm and rich, but Adrian wasn't hungry. He was restless.
The rubber ball bounced once against the window frame with a muted thud.
"Hey," Marek said from the armchair, folding the newspaper over his knee. "Careful with that, or your mom's going to hang both of us out the window to dry."
Adrian twisted to glance back, lips pushing into a stubborn pout. "It's not fair."
"What's not?"
"It's not fair that I can't practice when it rains. How am I supposed to get good if I can't play?"
Marek smiled gently, closing the newspaper fully now. "You know," he said, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, "you don't just get better on sunny days."
Adrian frowned. "What do you mean?"
"You think the best players in the world stop thinking about baseball just because of a little water? Doesn't work like that." Marek leaned back again, stretching. "You can practice in here too."
"In here?"
"Of course. Footwork. Grip. Balance. Holding the bat right. Even imagining yourself at the plate. That's training, too."
Adrian looked down at the ball, small fingers curling around it a bit tighter. "But it's not the same."
"No," Marek admitted. "It's not. But that's what makes you stronger. The ones who love it—they don't stop just because things get hard. Or boring. Or rainy."
Silence followed as Adrian processed his father's words. Outside, the rain seemed to fall even harder now, streaks running like little rivers on the glass. A group of birds fluttered from a tree across the courtyard, scattering in search of dry cover.
Finally, Adrian asked quietly, "Did you train on rainy days?"
Marek's jaw tightened for a moment before he spoke. "Not enough."
Adrian studied his father's face, noting the way his eyes seemed to drift somewhere else, far away—maybe to fields he once played on, or teams he never made.
"Is that why you didn't play for Poland?"
Marek looked surprised for a moment, then gave a sad, crooked smile. "No… Not just because of that. Life happens, Adrian. But that's why I don't want you making my mistakes."
The boy nodded slowly, turning back to the window, watching his own faint reflection in the glass—a young face with big eyes full of too many dreams for such a small apartment.
"I'm going to play for Poland," Adrian whispered suddenly, voice almost lost in the hiss of rain.
Marek stood up, walked over, and ruffled his son's messy hair. "I know you will."
They stood together by the window for a long while, just watching the rain fall like a curtain between now and the future they both quietly wanted.
—
Later that night, Adrian lay awake in bed, the rubber ball on the pillow beside him. Every now and then, he would reach out and touch it, as though making sure it was still there. The patter of rain on the roof was steady now, almost musical.
Down the hall, he could hear his parents talking in hushed tones. It wasn't angry talk, but there was something in the way his mother spoke softly that made Adrian's stomach twist.
"I don't know, Marek. If he really gets serious about it, we'll need equipment. And shoes. And those leagues have fees..."
"We'll manage," Marek answered, more firmly than usual. "We always do."
Adrian squeezed his eyes shut and held the ball tighter.
He didn't know how long it would take, or what it would require. He just knew one thing for certain:
He was going to play baseball.
No matter how hard it rained.
—
Two days later, when the sun finally peeked through again, Adrian was outside in the tiny courtyard with Marek, a broomstick in his hands, swinging slow, careful arcs under his father's watchful gaze.
"One more," Marek said, adjusting Adrian's elbow slightly. "It's all in the stance, son. Balance. Like you're standing over the whole world."
And in that moment, with the smell of damp earth in the air and clouds retreating overhead, Adrian felt like maybe, just maybe, the world really was waiting for him.
—
End of Chapter 10 → "Rainy Days, Big Dreams"