By noon, our high school had been contacted by numerous news organizations to receive access to both the game and me. Moose was about to pull out what was left of his hair. The school had also been told that twelve major league teams were sending scouts; representatives from Under-18 USA Baseball would be here; and at last count, 42 college recruiters from across the country would attend.
Caryn had notified Frank, and he was on the first flight he could get out of LA. His take was this was somewhat like when American Idol’s Scotty McCreery played high school baseball, except I was actually a top prospect.
Coach Hope grabbed me during last period and escorted me to the coaches’ conference room. When I saw two State Police officers standing at the door, I knew who was inside.
I walked into a full room. Governor Higgins stood up, smiled, and shook his head.
“You are a dream come true for my political career.”
“As long as it’s all about you,” I shot back.
Vice Principal Palm and Mr. Hicks, our Athletic Director, both about fainted when they heard me talking like that to the governor of our great state.
I looked around the room, and I guess Moose caught on that I wasn’t sure why this was such a big deal.
“You look confused.”
“Why is everyone making such a fuss about me pitching?” I asked.
“That’s probably my fault,” Coach Haskins said with a weak smile.
“How could that be your fault?” I asked.
“I received a call from one of the baseball writers I used to be friendly with. He just wanted a comment on you hitting the mound for the first time this year. I might have oversold your abilities.”
I suddenly had a bad feeling.
“What did you say?” I asked.
“He said that you’d been asked to make a position change to the outfield so you could represent the USA on their Under-18 national team,” Governor Higgins said. “He added that it was a shame because he thought you were a better pitching prospect than an outfielder.”
“So, I’m about to go out there and pitch for the first time this season and make a complete fool of myself,” I moaned.
“You are such a wuss sometimes,” Coach Hope said. “I’ve seen you throw a football and a baseball. How can you be so confident on a football field and not translate that to baseball?”
I took a deep breath. Sure, I knew for a fact that confidence was one of the biggest reasons I dominated on a football field. Closing my eyes, I took another deep cleansing breath, let it out slowly, and then did it again for good measure. I worked to find my center, my focus, and felt the tension start to leave my body.
“Okay. I have to go get ready,” I said, and strode out of the room.
“He’s going to surprise a lot of people. Many of them are here to see him fail. They’ll be going home disappointed,” Moose said as I walked out.
After leaving the coaches’ conference room, I walked to the locker room and got dressed for the game. I put in my earbuds, put on some rock music to help psych me up, closed my eyes, and just zoned out. I had this.
◊◊◊
Suddenly, I felt a hand on my shoulder. I opened my eyes and saw it was Moose.
“Take them out and get them warmed up,” he ordered.
I looked around the room, and every eye was on me. We had plenty of time before the game started. Moose wanted us to go out early so we could get the jitters out of our systems. He planned to have me throw to Johan and see where I was, pitching-wise.
I took the team out, and we stretched and then did some running drills to get the blood pumping. Next, Jim and I strolled out to the outfield, and we slowly began to loosen up my arm with longer and longer tosses.
While we did that, the press was set up in the hospitality tent filming B-footage that could be used as filler during their report. Some tried to shout questions, but Moose walked out and put a stop to that.
Finally, it was time for me to go get ready with Johan, who would be catching me. In the bullpen, I did some easy tosses from the mound to get a feel for things. Coach Herndon, our pitching coach, stood behind me, out of my line of sight.
“Go ahead and put a little more on it. I want to watch your motion,” he instructed.
I got into my pitching stance and just threw. There was a satisfying pop in Johan’s glove.
“Not full out,” Coach Herndon complained.
“That wasn’t full out,” I said.
“That’s good enough for the game. Throw me ten pitches just like that one.”
So I did. The actual motion of throwing a pitch wasn’t hard. What I found was that my work with the Bo staff and the help from Connor Fletcher had made throwing easier for me. The hard part of pitching was the placement of the ball and changing speed, location, or type of pitch to fool the batter. The reason Moose had hoped that I could get through three innings was that he didn’t want me to have to face the Lakeview batters a second time. If they knew what to expect after seeing me once, they would zone in and rock me.
“Now, give me ten changeups.”
I did that.
“How do you feel?”
“Good. Do you mind if I try some other pitches to see if I still have them?” I asked.
“By all means,” Coach Herndon said.
“I’m going to throw the split-finger. Protect yourself, because I don’t know if it’ll work,” I warned Johan.
The split-finger was thrown with the same motion as the fastball. It just dropped at the last moment if you threw it right. Well, mine dropped, but too soon. It hit the plate, skipped up off it, and hit Johan in the inner thigh. That had to smart.
“Dang it, you warned me.”
“Sorry about that,” I said, watching him try to walk it off.
I tried both my slider and curveball. They were nowhere near ready to use in a game. I went back to the split-finger and tried it a few more times. At least I could get that over the plate. It gave me a pitch that had some more movement.
“Okay, give me one as hard as you can,” Coach Herndon said.
I just reared back and cut loose. You could hear the air as the ball cut through it into Johan’s mitt. When the ball hit the glove, it just sounded different. I smiled to see his look of disbelief.
“Oh, my. We might have a chance tonight. Don’t show that pitch until you need it,” Coach Herndon said.
◊◊◊
Before the game, there was a lot of hoopla. Governor Higgins threw out the first pitch. Our marching band played the National Anthem, and, to my complete surprise, Halle James sang it. After that, I threw some practice pitches from the mound until the umpire was ready. The Lakeview batboy brought him some balls, and I did a double-take: it was the coach’s daughter who’d jumped the fence to chase me our last game. She had a shy smile and gave me a little wave.
As I warmed up, most of the scouts had speed guns pointed at my pitches. It was apparent that most of them were disappointed. I had to keep from smiling because even I knew I wasn’t showing the arm of a pitcher who would be as good as Coach Haskins had reported.
I threw a final pitch, and Johan threw it to second to begin the infield tossing it around the horn. Jim tossed it back to me, and we were ready to start the game.
The first Lakeview batter came up, and he was left-handed. Johan signaled for a fastball low and inside. He set up, giving me a big target. The advantage of not throwing hard was I had a lot of control. Johan didn’t have to move his glove.
“Steeerike!”
Even I could see it was out of the strike zone, but Johan not moving his glove had influenced the umpire’s call.
Johan called for the same pitch, and we got the same results. We set the next pitch up for right down the middle of the plate, except it was my changeup. The Lakeview batter looked foolish when he swung too soon.
The next guy up, I struck out on four pitches. Their third batter was wise to my pitch location. He got a piece of my first pitch and hit a screamer down the first base line that veered just foul. Johan signaled for the same pitch, but I shook him off. He was stubborn and asked for the low outside fastball again. I called time, and he trotted out.