“My name is Dave Gordon, and I’ll be your first baseman. I’ve been selected to try out each of the last four years, and I made the final team each time. I take this seriously, so I don’t want to see anyone slacking off, or I’ll call you on it. My goal is to make the Under-18 team so I can be the first to make all the teams, starting with the Under-14 squad.
“I’m sure I’ll make the cut, and I can already tell several of you won’t. To be frank, I’ll be surprised if our celebrity part-timer makes it. I’ll give you all one piece of advice: baseball has to be your primary focus,” he said, looking at me.
I looked around and could tell Dave hadn’t made many friends. It set the tone for the other guys when they introduced themselves. I zoned out. If I wanted to hear about how good each of them was, I’d date them, and I didn’t swing that way. I was picked last to introduce myself.
“Does anyone not know who I am?” I asked with a big smile.
I knew they did, and when I smiled, they smiled back.
“Good. Let’s talk baseball, then. If you want to talk about other stuff, we can do that after the coaches are done with us for the day,” I said to set expectations. “My goal is to do whatever it takes to make you all successful. I don’t want to just make the final 40. I want to see all of you come with me. That’ll leave 27 slots for the other teams to figure out who’ll be going to Houston with us.
“If that means I help pitch batting practice, I’m in. If the pitchers need to work on their pickoff move, I’ll be there. And if the coaches need me to play different positions, all they need to do is tell me. I believe that if we work together as a team, there’s no stopping us. We’ll set ourselves apart from all the other groups because we’re focused on winning. I want it to be our goal to win every single game.”
I looked around the room and could see the gears turning. This could be all about individuals, or we could become a team. Coach Kingwood was trying to hide a grin.
“Who’s with me?” I asked.
“Damn, son. You’re right out of central casting,” Joe Demersal, our second basemen from California, said. “I’m with you. I want to win ’em all and make the final 40.”
It felt like I’d started to win them over. I like it when a plan comes together.
◊◊◊
There were buses waiting to take us to the training facility. I watched several teams split up and not get onto the same bus. When our team started to do the same, I whistled to get their attention. It was one of those sharp ones that cut through the noise and had everyone turning to see what was up.
“Team Pride … everyone together!” I called out.
Dave gave me a withering look and got onto another bus out of spite. I smiled when the coaches noticed, and Coach Mallei was sent to get him. When he boarded the bus, you could tell he’d been talked to. I don’t think he liked what he’d been told, but he didn’t act like a complete jerk.
I sat next to Luke Cash, a right-handed pitcher from Missouri.
“Looks like Mr. ‘I’ve been here for four years’ got his butt chewed. Do you believe he’ll get with the program?”
“Once we start winning, he will. He knows how this works, and if he can’t be a good teammate, he won’t make the cut. I predict by this afternoon, he’ll be cheering us all on,” I said.
“Do you think he’ll mean it?” Luke asked.
“Oh, hell, no!”
We both laughed at that. Some of the other guys heard us and also chuckled. I wasn’t trying to one-up Dave or anything of the sort. These guys had all played on teams where there was someone like Dave, only out for himself.
When we got to the park, there were reporters and fans waiting. It was funny to see everyone hesitate.
“Hey, Coach!” I called out. “How do you want us to deal with this? Should we wait until after practice to sign autographs and talk to the press?”
When I said ‘sign autographs,’ everyone on the bus turned and stared at me. It was like they’d never had to deal with this before. That was when I grasped that they hadn’t. I felt a little jealous and had a sudden insight into how truly messed-up my life was.
“No press for now. Follow Dawson’s lead,” Coach Kingwood said. “Take us out.”
I got up and walked to the front of the bus.
“Team Pride, on me,” I called out as they scrambled out of their seats.
The other players all stayed where they were. I was glad to see Paul, Moose, Coach Herndon, and Coach Haskins at the door. There was a crowd of about thirty fans and eight reporters. Paul stepped in front, and my Lincoln coaches flanked me. The rest of the team followed us to field four.
I introduced my coaches to everyone. Paul would stick with me, as security, while the three Lincoln coaches would split up and watch practice at each of the other fields. We split the field with Brave, who was our first opponent today.
◊◊◊
I liked that Coach Kingwood got us busy right away. We did some stretching and running to warm up. Then it was like most everywhere else I’d been: they measured us. I don’t think they ever believed our stats when we filled them out on our application.
I was the biggest on our team at six-four-and-a-quarter and 218 pounds. What had them all buzzing was when I smoked everyone in all the speed drills. I’d worked hard for the last few weeks so I would peak now.
When we finally got a break, I looked up and saw M.E. and Bob in batboy uniforms.
“David! David! David!” Bob yelled as he ran to me. “They let me be on Pride because you’re my host-brother.”
“I wouldn’t want it to be any other way,” I said, and then turned to M.E. “Are you in charge?”
“Nope. Bob’s been telling me everything I need to know,” she said with a wink.
Bob puffed up.
“I’ll make sure she doesn’t mess up,” he said solemnly.
“Make sure she pays attention. If you’re around anyone with a bat, don’t get clipped. If she starts to slack off, you let me know,” I told him.
I worried Bob might get a little overexcited and get hurt. I’d feel terrible if that happened. M.E. nodded to let me know she’d look out for him.
◊◊◊
Coach Kingwood posted our lineup when we broke for lunch.
(Batting Order) Name - Position(s), High School, State
(1) Joe Demersal - Second Base, Gilmore Tech HS, California
(2) Mitch Underwood - Shortstop, El Paso Senior HS, Texas
(3) Dave Gordon - First Base / Outfield, Christian Academy, Georgia
(4) David Dawson - Center Field / Pitcher (right) / Shortstop, Lincoln HS, Illinois
(5) Nick Madigan - Right Field / 1st Base, Elk Grove HS, Illinois
(6) Blake Stepford - Left Field, Hillside College Prep, New York
(7) Lucas Smith - Third Base / Outfield, San Clemente HS, California
(8) Trent Black - Catcher, Carver HS, Texas
(9) Daz Whitman - Designated Hitter /Pitcher (left/middle relief) / Outfield, Alsop Academy, Alabama
Pitchers:
Allard Hensley - Pitcher (left), Slippery Rock HS, Arkansas
Luke Cash - Pitcher (right) / First Base, Oak Ridge HS, Missouri
Austin Moran - Pitcher (right) / Infield, Citrus HS, Florida
Kale Cameron - Pitcher (left /closer), Sulphur HS, Louisiana
At lunch, we all sat at a couple of tables. They had a tent set up next to the press box at the stadium. Volunteers served us cafeteria-style. I was going to have to get someone to start bringing me lunch because this was sketchy. They had foil-wrapped pulled pork sandwiches, dry mac & cheese, and salad that had seen better days. It was good that we were all teenage boys, or the food might not have been eaten.
“What’s the deal, Dawson?” Blake, our New Yorker, asked. “Are you some kind of prissy-boy who needs twelve coaches and a personal valet?”
That got a laugh out of everyone. I could see where this might confuse baseball players. In football, I’d seen plenty of other players with personal coaches. Well, never three, but these were my high school coaches, and I imagined this was as much of an adventure for them as it was for me.