She pulled on her batter's gloves and turned to pick up her bat, but Jim was already there, holding it out to her. "Good luck," he said. His eyes were smiling at her.

She swung for a strike on the first pitch. Damn, she thought, as she heard the ball hit the catcher's glove. Too nervous, she reminded herself. Relax.

The pitcher, a tall red headed woman named Veronica, looked at her stonily as she set up again.

"Don't choke up on the handle, Pam," Jim called to her. She loosened her grip a little, dug her toes in.

This time Pam saw it coming. She thought it was out of the strike zone but went with her intuition and swung on it anyway. She connected just as the ball crossed the plate at mid-chest height. THOK! Her bat shuddered in her hands and she felt the shock clear up to her shoulders, but stood watching as the white softball lofted up, up and over the pitcher's head. She saw the second baseman leaping for it and missing.

"Run, Pam!" Jim yelled.

She took off, tossing the bat to her right, pounding down the first base path. The first baseman crouched behind the base, poised to catch the ball, but when her foot hit the bag his glove was still empty and the outfield was scrambling and she heard Jim laughing, back behind home plate. Lonny rounded second and slid into third to a chorus of whistles and applause from the Dunder Mifflin team.

"Nice play," the Vance Refrigeration first baseman said to her. He winked at her.

Pam leaned forward with her hands on her knees, watching Jim step up to the batter's box. He held up a hand for a time out, knocked imaginary dirt off his shoes, and stepped back in wearing a determined expression. He settled his cap more firmly on his head. Pam watched the muscles in his arms flex as he swung the bat up. He bounced it on his wide shoulders once or twice. With his long arms, the bat looked almost too short. He nodded to Devon.

Pam watched Veronica's windup, thought the ball was too high, then watched as Jim's bat hit the ball with a mighty WHACK and the ball sailed in a long high arc to centerfield. She reached the third base bag laughing and glanced over to see Lonny crossing home plate to score. Kelly jumped up and down, squealing and laughing, as the others lined up to high-five Lonny. Pam looked at second base and found Jim grinning from ear to ear at her. He gave her an "air" high-five and she gave him one back.

Meredith stepped into the batter's box carrying a well-worn wooden bat on her shoulder. She tossed her red hair out of her eyes and squinted at the pitcher. Pam felt a prickle of apprehension; standing on second base, Jim was in the direct line of fire if Meredith hit a line drive...

But then Veronica was lofting an underhanded pitch at home plate and Meredith swung too soon and Devon called "Strike one!" Pam saw Meredith cursing under her breath, shrugging her shoulders. Then Devon said something and she laughed, and the catcher signaled the pitcher and there was the ball again. Meredith swung and the ball popped straight up and the catcher jumped up, ran to catch it and Devon called "Out!" Inning over.

Pam sat down on the picnic bench behind the backstop to fasten her chest protector. Jim sat down next to her, smelling of sweat. She liked the smell--it was a clean, athletic smell. He ran his hand over his face, adjusted his cap. "Good work, Beesly," he said. He nodded at Meredith. "Think she'll last?"

"At least three innings," Pam said. 

"I'll step in for her any time," he said. "I pitched a little in college."

"I doubt you're in her league," Pam said.

"Whoa! You trash talking me, Pam?"

"Truth, not trash," she fired back, grinning. He grinned back and she felt warm all the way to her toes.

Bob Vance was standing next to Devon with a bat on his shoulder as Pam walked up. He eyed her. "You're pretty short for a catcher," he said.

Pam grinned. "Bring it on."

Bob laughed. "Yeah, Phyllis warned me about you."

"Tell her we changed all the signals, so her spying didn't do her any good," Pam laughed.

Bob snorted and stepped into the batter's box. Pam signaled to Meredith she was ready. Meredith nodded, went into her windup, and threw. Bob swung at the ball and missed. Pam felt it hit the center of her mitt and grinned.

"Strike one!" Devon said.

"Son of a -- wow!" Bob said admiringly. "Nice pitching for a girl."

"Pussy ball," Pam said quietly. Devon chuckled behind her.

Pam nodded to Meredith, crouched down waiting for the pitch. Bob swung and missed again.

"Strike two!"

Bob Vance muttered a curse under his breath. "I'll be ... Okay, this is for real this time," he said.

Pam grinned under her mask. Meredith shot her an underhanded pitch that never rose above Bob's knee level.

"Ball one!" Devon said. Then chuckled.

"Oh, come on," Bob said impatiently.

In short order, Meredith delivered two more balls. Pam could almost feel the impatience simmering in Bob. His body was tense, poised to connect with the ball, but Meredith kept lobbing obvious ground balls at him. With a full count on Vance, Pam signaled to Meredith. Time to put this guy away, she thought.

Meredith nodded, fired the softball at Bob's head. He swung, missed, and Devon called him out. He threw the bat on the ground to a chorus of groans from his employees. He glared at Meredith, then at Pam. Then his scowl broke into a grin. "Damn," he said. He tipped his hat at Meredith and walked back to his team's bench. In the outfield, Toby and Michael were whooping.

Veronica, the pitcher for Vance Refrigeration, was next. Veronica hit the next pitch over Darryl's head into the outfield. She ran like hell and slid into second base.

Pam jogged out to the pitcher's mound. "Sorry," Meredith puffed. "Can't strike 'em all out," she said.

"Don't worry about it," Pam said. "You're doing great. Your arm okay?"

"Yeah," Meredith said.

Meredith gave up two balls to the next batter before striking him out, and then an older, gray haired lady came up to bat. She was wearing kneepads and a worn batting helmet. Uh-oh, Pam thought. This one's been around a few bases. She signaled for a curve ball, and the woman swung and missed.

"Stee-rike!" Devon sang out. The woman looked down at Pam, squinting.

"Tell that Amazon on the mound to duck," she said.

Pam ignored her, signaled for a pitch. Meredith fired back a beautiful, textbook slow pitch--right into the path of the woman's bat. WHAM! Pam saw the fat softball slam into the plate, bounce high over her head, and dibble towards third. She lunged for it but the batter was already halfway to first base. She grabbed the ball--and dropped it. Damn.

Whistles and catcalls from the Vance Refrigeration bench, and she looked up to see Veronica on third base, ready to score.

Michael bounded in from right field, yelling. "Hey! That was a foul ball!"

Pam stood, dusting herself off. "Michael, don't' do that."

Devon stood to confront Michael, hands on hips. "You're not the manager, Michael. Get off the plate."

Michael wasn't listening. "She totally cheated, man! You should call that a strike!"

"Now it's a strike? I thought you said it was a foul." Devon hawked, spat a wad that landed between Michael's feet. "Get back in the outfield."

"It was a foulstrike," Michael said heatedly. "It's a special kind of ball in co-ed softball. Australian rules."

Devon jerked his thumb over his shoulder. "Get out."

"What?"

"I'm tossing your ass for interfering with play," Devon said, a smug smile on his face. "Get behind the backstop."

Boos and catcalls erupted from the Vance Refrigeration bench. Pam saw Michael's face flame red.

"You're fired! I'm firing you as umpire!"

Devon waved Jim in from first base. Jim jogged in, frowning. "What's up?"

"I'm throwing Michael out. I need you to substitute a player," Devon said.

Jim pulled his roster out of his back pocket. "Uh. I guess we can use Oscar."

"You can't throw me out! This is my team!" Michael said loudly.

"Michael, you have to go back to the bench," Pam said, putting a hand on his arm. "You'll make us forfeit if you don't."

"But it's not fair!"

"I know," she said in a low voice, glancing at Devon. "But that's softball."

"I won't go!"

"Then we'll lose," she said. She nodded at Bob Vance, who was arguing loudly with Dwight. "Do you want them to win by default?"

Michael scowled and dug his foot into the dirt. "It's not fair," he said sullenly.

"Wasn't fair to can my ass, either," Devon said, grinning.

Michael glared at him. Pam tugged on his arm. "Michael, please."

Michael shrugged and walked slowly back to the Dunder Mifflin bench. He slumped on the bench and hung his head in his hands. Andy hovered, talking. Pam couldn't hear him and didn't want to. Oscar walked past her, pulling his glove on, and nodded to her on his way out to right field. Jim slapped hands with him on his way back to first.

"Let's go," Devon said, pulling his face mask down.

Meredith set up. The Vance refrigeration guy stepped into the box. Pam crouched, focused, caught a fast ball and a strike on the outside. And then Meredith threw a slow one and the guy swung and that ball was gone, gone, gone. Kelly was yelling, running backwards, frantically scanning the sky for the ball. By the way her shoulders were hunched, Pam figured Kelly had never caught a ball; her hands weren't even up. It didn't matter, as the ball landed between her and Toby, rolling to a stop near the edge of the grass.

Pam simmered in frustration as she watched Toby race to pick it up and throw the ball to Lonny, who threw it to her. It hit her glove like a flying brick but by that time Veronica had already crossed the plate.

The score was tied.