“Heck no! Coach would kill me. I trust you to start your own trouble without my help.”
“Alright, I’ll let you get ready. I’ll be back after you beat them, and you can give me five minutes on how lucky you are to be alive, and how good they were.”
“Sounds like a plan.”
He just shook his head and went to cause trouble with St. John’s.
COACH HASKINS HAD US gather around to give us the game plan.
“How you feeling, Justin?” he asked.
“Good, Coach.”
“Today we’re going to play them straight up. Justin, we’re going to ride your arm as long as we can, and then bring in David. I want you to keep the innings short, so don’t try to strike them out. Get them to ground out so we keep your pitch-count low.
“When we’re batting, I want you to take the first pitch. We’ve worked on being selective, and everyone’s batting average is up. I want them to have to work you into the count. They’re not going to pull their pitcher, because no one is deep enough for the whole tournament.
“Don’t be surprised if they get up on us. We’ll pick it up in the later innings. Keep sharp and keep your head in the game. Hustle every chance you get and be aggressive on the base paths. Picking up an extra base here and there will be the difference in this one.”
I brought them all in and we put our gloves together, “ONE, TWO, THREE! GO DAWGS!”
Eve led off again. We were the visiting team because we were the lower seed. Rusty was pitching, so this was going to be interesting. Eve had embarrassed him the last time we played. She was one of the players that had taken to the coaching and was good at battling a pitcher. She worked the count to three and two and then hit six straight foul balls. Rusty tried to get her out with a big sweeping curveball but put it in the dirt a foot in front of the plate.
Eve hustled to first and the catcher was still tracking down the ball. It had rolled behind the umpire’s heel and he didn’t see it. Eve was halfway to second when he found it. He didn’t even bother to try and throw her out.
Jake was up next and crowded the plate. Rusty decided to push him back and clipped him.
“Oh, man! I’m so sorry!”
Both teams had been warned before the game that we would be kicked out of the tournament if we started throwing at each other. The umpire went straight to the mound after gesturing for their coach.
“If you hit one more, you’re gone. Is that clear?”
“Yes, sir. It was an accident, sir,” Rusty told the ump.
“I know, son, but you have a little history to overcome. I’m giving you fair warning.”
Jeff was up next. He was probably our most-improved hitter. He crowded the plate, knowing that Rusty wouldn’t come inside. It was all Jeff could do not to swing at the first pitch. It was a fastball right down the middle. Jeff did his job in making him work, but Rusty blew a fastball by him to get the strikeout.
Wolf came up and I was in the on-deck circle. Rusty threw another fastball right down the middle. Coach motioned me over.
“I want you to hit the first pitch out of the park. He knows we’re taking the first pitch.”
I nodded, stretched, and got ready to bat. Wolf also struck out. Rusty had gotten into a groove and would be hard to beat, now that he’d settled in. I took my normal stance. Rusty again threw it right down the middle, daring me to hit it. I could tell by the ping of the bat that I got all of it. Rusty’s head snapped around as he watched the towering shot go down the first base line. I was rounding first when the other umpire made one of the worst calls I have ever seen. He had been near second base and called it a foul ball.
I think Eve was more pissed than I was. I went back to back and picked up my bat. With my head down, I said softly to the home plate umpire: “Are you going to overrule him?”
He called time and got the other ump to have a talk. After a few minutes, the home plate umpire signaled a home run. As I rounded the bases, Rusty winked at me.
“That’s all you’re getting, today, Dawson,” he challenged me.
“We’ll see, Rusty,” I shot back.
At least he was smiling.
By the time we came up in the seventh inning, both pitchers were struggling. They had battled back but we were still ahead, 3–2. I was up first and winked at Rusty to tell him that the game was on. He gave me a tight smile.
I crowded the plate to give him something to think about. I guess he figured ‘what the heck’ and knocked me down. The ball hit the grip and bounced foul. The ump was going to throw him out, but I jumped up.
“He missed me. It hit the bat.”
“I thought it grazed you, son.”
“No, sir.”
Rusty tipped his hat at me to say thanks. Coach Haskins was shaking his head. I guess I looked at it as being just a game. If this meant something, I would have let the ump make his call and let the chips fall where they may. I also wanted to have a reputation as an honest player. I already caught a break by not showing up the ump earlier. If I had thrown a fit, he never would have talked to the other umpire about the home run ball.
I crowded the plate, again daring Rusty to pitch inside. He did it again and I went down in the dirt. He gave me an evil smile. I dusted myself off and crowded the plate yet again. He just shook his head at me. This time I smiled at him. He’d gotten himself behind in the count to try and move me off the plate. He threw a nice changeup to the outside, enticing me to swing at it. Two weeks ago, I would have, but Coach Haskins had been working us hard to recognize the strike zone. Rusty had to throw me a strike this time.
I settled into my normal stance and waited for the pitch. Rusty shook off his catcher twice. I was guessing that meant he wanted to throw his big curve. I still had a hard time hitting a curve, but I was much better if I knew it was coming. If it was a fastball I was dead, but it began to break. I crushed it and sent a towering shot to center field.
At first, I was afraid I had hit it too high. As I jogged down the first base line, I was yelling at the baseball.
“Get out! Get out!”
The ball was caught by a young kid who was ten yards past the fence. I did a fist pump and rounded the bags, making it 4–2. That’s how the game ended. This time St. John’s players were better sports, and I sent them over to our tent to get some food and drinks. I was met by Jeff and gave him my five-minute canned speech.
“You’re killing me, David,” Jeff moaned. “Give me something.”
“What, ‘I get better looking each day’ isn’t doing it for you?” I teased him. “How about this? Coach Haskins has made us a better team by helping us learn how to have effective at bats. The more pitches you see, the more you know what the pitcher will do. A great example was Eve Holliday’s first at bat. She ran the count full and then fought off several pitches. That helped the whole team see what kind of pitches the opposing pitcher was bringing. That single at bat set the tone for the rest of the game.”
Jeff clapped and I gave him a little bow. Rusty came up and knocked my hat off in good fun.
“Now ask this one if he’s ever seen a more towering shot than the one I put on him,” I told Jeff.
“Why don’t you do the interview?” Jeff teased me.
“Okay, you getting this?” I asked Jeff, and he nodded. “Rusty, blah, blah, blah, you suck. Any comments?”
“You know, David, I’m just lucky to be here ...”
Jeff threw his note pad at us as we laughed at him.
“You two are not going to come off well in tomorrow’s paper.”
At least he was smiling.
I WENT TO THE FAMILY pavilion to see who was there. Uncle Jim and Aunt Tanya were there with their daughters Julie and Elizabeth. The girls were twelve and ten. I always felt bad for Elizabeth because Julie ignored her. Not that Julie was mean; she just didn’t make time to hang out with her sister. The girls ran up to me and I bent down to bring them both into a hug. Elizabeth wrinkled her nose.