“Our first home game is Saturday. Let me ask the team to see if they’d be willing to do something during the game,” I told them.
Next was Art class, and it was my week to be the model. My art teacher was nervous when I wasn’t ready.
“David, aren’t you going to take your turn?” she asked.
“Oh, sorry, I forgot,” I said as I got up. “What was it I was doing?”
“Nude,” someone from the peanut gallery suggested.
I had remembered they wanted the male torso. Everyone froze when I took my shirt off and then started to undo my pants. I stripped down to my boxers and sat on the stool. I had run around in a speedo all weekend, so this was nothing.
“How do you want me?”
“All night long,” the peanut gallery announced.
“Careful what you wish for,” I shot back.
I had to smirk when shy little Stacy got up and started measuring me. Funny how all the other girls thought that was a good idea. Our teacher had to step in and have them go one at a time.
When the class ended, everyone wanted to thank me for being such a good sport. Tracy had started walking me to Biology recently and stuck her head in to find me in my boxers, surrounded by my art class.
“What the heck? Did someone dare you to get naked?”
“Tracy, this is art. We call it ‘nude,’” I said in my snootiest voice.
“Hurry up. We get our dead pigs today.”
I handed her my shirt and books as I slipped on my shoes. I was doing my belt when Coach Hope saw me. I just grinned as Tracy tossed me my shirt as we hurried down the hall. I was sure I would hear about it later.
At our lab tables, everyone had a metal tray with a cloth over their pig. My lab partner was a tiny girl who never talked. She’d refused to cut up the frog. I had no idea what she was going to do with the pig. Then I found out. She handed the teacher a note and she got to go to study hall. Apparently cutting on pigs was against her religion or something.
We were reminded of safety. Knives are sharp. Don’t cut yourself. No playing with the knives. Wear your goggles, and so on. We were then allowed to uncover our pig. The formaldehyde smell about knocked me down. We were shown how to make the first incision. We were supposed to put our pig on its back and cut just the skin on its stomach.
I looked up in time to see Gina stab her pig. I think if she had just cut the skin she might have been okay. These little guys had been floating in formaldehyde for who knows how long. Her critter had built up a little pressure in its tummy. When she stabbed him, the juices shot out and hit her square in the face.
Gina just froze. Tracy, her lab partner, absolutely freaked out. It seemed she had gotten a drop on her blouse. Alan went over to check his girlfriend. She had stuff dripping from her hair. I lost it, I was laughing so hard. Gina looked at her concerned boyfriend and puked on him. She must have gotten some in her mouth. I have to say it was good that he had his goggles on. You really have to love someone to let them throw up their mystery meat from lunch on you.
I can handle just about anything, but if someone pukes around me, I have a strong gag reflex. Mr. Dutton sent Alan and Gina to the locker room to change and take showers. I had to step out into the hall to keep from adding to the problem. When the janitor showed up, he wasn’t thrilled. He sprinkled that pink crap that’s worse than the smell of the barf to soak it up. Tracy made me give her my shirt so she could change.
Mr. Dutton gave me a funny look.
“Don’t worry about it, Mr. Dutton. David does this all the time,” Jeff told him.
The class seemed to agree. We went back to cutting up our pigs. When Tracy came back, she came to my table to watch. At the end of class, we had to wrap up our pigs. I put Tracy and Gina’s pig away for them.
WE FINALLY MET COACH Haskins. He was a crusty old guy who sounded like he’d been a pack-a-day smoker all his life which gave him a gravelly voice that was distinctive. Coach Hope had agreed to be his assistant so that we had someone from the school working with us. We also found out that only ten of us survived Coach Hope’s three days of hell.
“I want to thank Coach Hope for cleaning out the deadwood. We’ll be just fine with the team we have. I understand he had you running. What was the shortest distance you ran?”
“A hundred yards,” Mike answered.
“That’s about equal distance from running from home around to third base. Something we’re going to do is pick up extra bases. I’ll not yell at you for being aggressive. The biggest problem teams will have at this time of year is the ability to make good decisions. If we’re always looking to be aggressive on the base paths, it’ll force them to make a decision, and hopefully, they make the wrong one.
“Now, there’s something else I want to make sure everyone’s on board with. Does anyone have a problem with Eve playing? I want you to think about this. Other teams may give you a hard time. I know Eve is tough enough. I just want to clear the air if any of you has an issue.”
He looked around and no one complained.
“Now, I need to know who the team captain is.”
“David,” Mike said, to prevent anyone from nominating him.
Everyone agreed.
“Okay, Cap, fill me out a roster sheet.”
Roster:
(8) Tim Foresee – Catcher
(4) Wolf Tam – 1st Base
(2) Mike Herndon – 2nd Base / Pitcher / Catcher
(5) David Dawson – Shortstop / Closer
(1) Jake Holcombe – 3rd Base
(6) Bert Nelson – Right Field
(7) Eve Holliday – Center Field
(3) Jeff Rigger – Left Field
(9) Bert Nelson – Pitcher / Outfield
(9) Justin Tune – Pitcher / Infield
He read the list out loud and the batting order.
“Is everyone okay with that as a starting point?”
We all agreed.
He started running us through drills. Cassidy showed up for the last thirty minutes of practice. We lined up for thirty minutes of hell.
Coach Haskins looked confused; Coach Hope assured him he would like this. By the time Cassidy was done with us, Coach Haskins nodded his agreement.
Then my dance class showed up and they all waved at me. I guess they didn’t trust me to ask the team about the dance routine.
“Cap, I take it you’re responsible for having all these women disrupt my time?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Son, let me give you some advice. Pick one. Take her out and give her a test drive. If you have a good time, keep her. If she’s a lemon, take another one out. Repeat the process until you find a keeper. Don’t try and date eight women at a time.”
My teammates failed to keep a straight face.
“That’s good advice, sir, but it’s not like that. This is my dance class.”
“Come again?”
“This is my dance class.”
“I was afraid that was what you said. Now, I know I’m going to regret asking, but what’s your dance class doing here?”
“I promised them that the team would help them with a dance routine at Saturday’s game. I was thinking during the fifth-inning break.”
“You made a promise, did you?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Well, guys and gal, your Captain has committed you to dancing. So I guess you’re dancing.”
The girls were getting a little bouncy at the news. I figured I would see what kind of sport Coach Haskins was.
“Ahh, Coach, we need you and Coach Hope to be involved, too.”
He stared at me, trying to figure out what planet I was from.
“It’s a team-building exercise, coach,” I added helpfully.
Moose and the varsity came up while we were in the middle of learning the steps to Call Me Maybe. He about had a cow when the varsity ran over and joined us. Magic likes to dance, and he told them all they had to. We had a blast, and even Coach Haskins had a smile on his face. This wasn’t going to be boring!