I caught the ball and was already coming up throwing, with a plan to showcase my arm, when I saw the Lakeview runners both standing at second. The man on first must not have tagged up and the one on second knew what kind of arm I had. I held up and tossed the ball to Bryan, who then yelled at them to “Run!”
The lead runner made a step toward third, and Bryan tagged him. He then spun and threw the ball to Jim, who tagged the runner headed back to first. He was out anyway because he forgot to tag up when I caught the ball. Brock was excited that we’d gotten him out of the jam.
By now, the stands were filling up, and everyone came to their feet. I glanced over at the scouts and recruiters to see their reaction to what was about to happen. When the first notes of Thunderstruck began, it got loud in a hurry. I’d toned down the theatrics for the last few weeks, but this was a home game. Everyone cheered when I began my air-guitar impersonation of Angus Young and his little hop-steps down the third base line.
As the song’s intro wrapped up, I hopped into the batter’s box and smiled at the umpire. He just ignored me.
“Play ball!”
Their pitcher uncorked a changeup that hit me in the middle of my back. At least it hadn’t been his fastball, or at least for his sake, I hoped it wasn’t. I smiled as I trotted down to first base. I knew the kid had too much control to let one get away from him. That had been a message pitch.
Ray Quinn was up since he’d taken Yuri’s old spot at third base. Ray was a sophomore and hadn’t gotten a hit yet. It surprised me that Moose wanted me to hold at first and let Ray bat. He must have decided that Ray needed to focus and not worry about me trying to steal second.
Ray worked the count to full. The Lakeview pitcher was upset because the umpire wasn’t giving him close calls. That meant that he had to hit more of the plate to get a strike. With his slower stuff, that gave us an advantage. Ray fouled off the next six pitches.
“That’s the way to hang in there, Ray!” I called from first.
On the next pitch, Ray hit a weak grounder to short. It was a perfect double-play ball until the shortstop let it roll between his legs. I didn’t hesitate as I rounded second at full speed and saw Coach Haskins signaling to slide. I just beat the throw and was safe.
Ray had been listening to his coaching and had run out the play to first. When it was evident that I was heading to third, he took second.
Next up was Bryan. He, too, worked the count full. I had to agree with the Lakeview pitcher; the last two pitches looked like strikes to me. The key was the umpire was being consistent. So long as that was the case, the Lakeview pitcher needed to adjust to what he was calling. Unfortunately, Bryan struck out.
Jim stepped into the batter’s box and, on the first pitch, hit a golf shot down the first base line that rolled to the fence. Both Ray and I scored, and Jim had a stand-up double. That was where the inning ended.
In the third, they finally got to Brock as he gave up three runs. One of the freshmen came in and promptly gave up a home run. By the time we got out of the top of the third, we were down 7–2.
When I came up in the third, Brock had managed to get a hit. He’d gone back to playing second base when he was pulled from the mound because we needed his bat.
I settled into the batter’s box and ran through my checklist. The first pitch was inside, and I gave the kid a dirty look. If he hit me again, I would kick his ass, and I told the catcher that. Their catcher called time and trotted out to the mound. The umpire acted like he was cleaning home plate.
“I would advise you not to act rashly,” he said under his breath.
Following his example, I acted like I was checking my bat.
“I won’t. I just wanted to let him know that I won’t tolerate him hitting me for sport. If it happens, I’ll let the catcher grab me.”
“Fair enough,” he said and then turned to the mound. “Play ball!”
The kid surprised me with a nasty curve. It must have broken two feet. His next pitch was a fastball that got up into my zone. It was all I could do to not overswing. I concentrated on doing everything correctly. I felt bad when the ball ended up in the hospitality tent, causing people to scramble to get out of the way.
By the top of the seventh, and final, inning, we were tied at 8–8. That was when it got interesting. Three girls jumped the fence and made a beeline for me. The first thought that came to mind was how fans could actually hurt someone. Back in the day, Brock Miller, the former Dodger All-Star shortstop, had been stabbed by a crazy fan and almost lost his life. The second thought was that I didn’t want to reward their bad behavior, or I would have to deal with this at every game. I waited until they were almost to me, then bolted toward our dugout. Two of them gave up because they were winded. The third was more determined.
The Lakeview coach ran out of their dugout, and he looked pissed.
“Young Lady! Get over here … Right … Now!”
From the look on her face, this had to be his daughter. Moose came out of the dugout and grabbed me.
“I’m sure your friends will tease you, but you did the right thing. Don’t let them get near you if you can help it. You never know what kind of whack job will want to take a shot at you.”
“Listen to your coach. I’m going to warn Lakeview about player safety. Wait here while I do that,” the umpire directed me.
When it was our turn to come up in the bottom of the seventh, it was over on the first pitch. Dan Ball, Jim’s cousin, was inserted to bat and hit a home run to win it 9–8.
Coach Haskins handed me a Sharpie and sent me to sign autographs. It wasn’t lost on the scouts and recruiters that I was doing it without an attitude. It was a pain in the butt, but part of baseball at the higher levels. I had Jim grab a small duffle bag I’d brought to the dugout. It held a big stack of my pre-signed Stryker photos. Most people were happy to get them, and it made the line move faster. Jim hung around and gave out pictures for me.
As we wandered back to the dugout, I started talking loud enough for the scouts and recruiters to hear.
“Let’s go to the hospitality tent and grab a few hot dogs,” I said to Jim.
He just smiled when the section behind home plate cleared out. Our next game wasn’t for a couple of hours.
◊◊◊
Bryan pitched the next game and was on from the start. We ended up winning 5–1. I hit two more home runs and had a stolen base. After I was done signing autographs, I decided to just skip my shower and go home. It had been a long day.
And I had guests waiting for me. Greg had called to collect on my pledge to trade Pam’s massages for babysitting. I came out of the shower to find Angie, Peggy, and Pam sitting on my bed.
“You think you can handle all of them?” Pam asked.
How hard could it be to watch five children under the age of three all at once? I had this.
Five hours later, I decided I might have underestimated what babysitting five little ones really meant. Even Duke looked exhausted, even more so than I felt.
When everyone came back, they found all the little ones sound asleep. If I weren’t a high-level athlete, they would have worn me out. I could see the disappointment on the girls’ faces when they found me rubbing Duke’s ears as his reward for helping keep track of all of them.
“They’re all asleep?” Angie asked.
“Yeah, no problems. They were all perfect little angels,” I said.
“Bullshit,” Greg said under his breath.
I kept a straight face so they couldn’t be sure if I were telling the truth or not.
“He owes me two more babysitting gigs,” Greg said.
They all smiled at that. If I were to watch all five again, I would either hire help or con someone into helping me. I didn’t know how they did it all the time. The upside was I loved all the little ones, and it really hadn’t been that bad.