“What do the rest of you think?” I asked.
Everyone agreed. We only had three more days of lunches. Somehow, I was put in charge of organizing it and collecting money. Their parents had given them all money for the trip, so they each handed me cash for some decent food.
◊◊◊
We played the Stars in the first game today. My family showed up early, so I pulled Melissa and my mom off to the side and told them what we wanted to do about lunches. Melissa was one of the key members of the host family program for USA Baseball. She was shocked that our lunches were so bad, nutritionally. Melissa and my mom planned to talk to some of the other host parents about the situation. I gave them the money I’d collected, and Mom told me that if nothing else, she would either make something or have tomorrow’s lunch catered.
I went back and told the team we were set for tomorrow’s lunch, which made them happy.
We warmed up and then gave the field to the Stars so they could do the same. By now, the crowd had begun to build. They were playing some good music on the sound system, so I was bopping my head when I slipped over to talk to my family.
“Unca David, dance,” Kyle said.
What are uncles for if not to entertain their niece and nephews? I made a few of the dance moves I’d been teaching them. Mac put her arms up for me to pick her up. I didn’t think about it and just pulled her into my arms as I danced around.
“Mac dance,” she said.
If we were going to do that, I knew Kyle would want to dance as well. I grabbed him and put them onto the field with me. The next song came on, and they began to shake their booties. I looked up, and the crowd was up dancing with us.
“Dance off!” I called.
I pointed at the Stars batboys and motioned them over, then I got M.E. and Bob’s attention. They came over and joined me.
“Let’s get the crowd going. We’re going to see who the best dancers are, Pride or the Stars,” I said, laying down the gauntlet.
We waited for the next song to come on, and Kyle and Mac showed them how it was done. I admit I thought it was hilarious to watch the two of them dance. Kyle was a total free spirit and tended to just bop around. Mac was serious and really took to booty-shaking. Well, as serious as an almost-three-year-old can be.
The batboys had fun, too. Bob wasn’t too sure he wanted to do it until I did. I knew he would want to emulate me. M.E. was a teenage girl; I’d yet to meet one who didn’t like to dance. The other two batboys did it to show they had team spirit.
Coach Kingwood broke up our dance party to remind us we had a baseball game to play. I gave Mac and Kyle back to Greg and ran to the dugout.
“I can’t believe you did that. You’re just weird,” Allard told me.
“You can’t say that,” Dave said, right on cue.
That made everyone laugh even harder.
◊◊◊
Right before the game, Moose gave us his impressions of the Stars. They had a big first baseman who could hit the crap out of a fastball. Everyone thought he might be a first-round pick in next year’s Major League Baseball draft. Austin was pitching for us tonight, and the Florida kid had some nasty breaking stuff.
“I wouldn’t throw him anything straight. Make him prove he can hit your curveball,” Moose coached.
“He’s been their main offense so far. If we can shut him down, we should be good,” Coach Mallei said.
“What about the rest of them?” Austin asked.
“They’re all good, but you would expect that. You can’t take an at-bat off. If you pitch like everyone says you can, then you should be fine,” Moose said, and then he was off to watch our next opponent.
It was our turn to be the home team. They apparently rotated that every other game. That meant we took the field first. I trotted out to center field and inspected the crowd. It seemed like each one got a bit bigger than the last. It looked like the stadium was half full. Dave told us that typically there were maybe fifty people in the stands for a game. I guess the Dawson effect was happening even in North Carolina.
We also had to contend with the weather: they had predicted a shower this afternoon, and we could see clouds starting to form off in the distance. The hope was we would get the game in before it rained.
It was apparent from the start that the Stars manager wanted his hitters to get a first called strike on them before they took a swing. I personally thought that was insane because you might not get a good pitch to hit if you didn’t go up to bat with a hitter’s mentality. Sitting on pitches just reduces the number of chances for you to get on base. You might sit on the first pitch if you had a wild pitcher and wanted to force him to throw strikes. The only other possible reason that occurred to me would be if you had a batter who was overaggressive, and you were trying to teach him patience. Neither reason seemed to be valid in this case, though.
By the second inning, Austin had figured it out and was taking full advantage. If he didn’t have to worry about them swinging until the first called strike, he would be up early in the count with each batter. Our first three batters had gone down in order. Austin took care of their first six without a problem. Their big first baseman looked utterly human when he was faced with a steady diet of curveballs. Moose had come through.
I was up first in the second inning. Before I stepped out of the dugout, Coach Kingwood took me aside.
“I want to see you bunt. Either push it up the first base line or drag it down the third. Force them to quit playing you so deep. Once you’re on, I want to see you continue the pressure and steal second.”
He’d told me to trust him, so I planned to do as he said. The Stars outfielders were playing deep, and both second and short were standing outside the dirt a couple of feet on the outfield grass. Their third baseman was all the way back on the edge. First base was playing at standard depth.
At first, I thought I would drag the ball down third; then I thought again. If I pushed it towards first, the first baseman or pitcher would have to field it. The second baseman would then cover first. If he was playing that far back, I expected I could outrun him.
I looked down at the third-base coach to get the sign. Coach Way clapped his hands without bothering to give me even a fake sign.
“You’re the man! Get a hit!” he called out.
I stepped into the batter’s box and made a show of digging in. I rolled my shoulders to loosen up, held my bat in front of me, and let my finger dance against the grip. It looked like I was gaining my focus. I took a deep breath, let it out, and then faced their pitcher.
I could tell on the release of the ball that it was going to be low and outside. So I let it go, and the umpire called it a ball.
“Good eye!” Coach Way called out from third as he clapped. “You’re the man!”
The next pitch was low and outside again, but this time it was hittable. I slid my right hand up the barrel of the bat and held it with my fingers. This allowed the contact of the bat to push it into my hand, sort of like a shock absorber. This deadened the ball but still gave it enough velocity that it wouldn’t be easy for the catcher to simply run it down and make the play.
I was off like a shot and concentrated on running as I’d been taught. The second baseman about fell on his face when he saw me bunt, so there was no one for the first baseman to throw the ball to.
“Good job,” Coach Nautilus, our first-base coach, said as he patted my butt.
I didn’t take much of a lead because I wanted to watch their pitcher. He hadn’t had to pitch out of the stretch yet, and I sought to see if he used a slide step to home or not. I also wanted to see if he had any tells. The Stars’ pitcher looked over his shoulder to see what I was up to and then ignored me. Did he not just see me run to first? He lifted his foot to go home, and I took off. So much for my plans.
Nick, our right fielder, took a mighty swing to protect me. This kept the catcher from starting his throwing motion to second too soon. He had to worry about being hit with a bat. Their catcher knew his business and threw a rocket to second, and I was a split second too slow to the bag and was out. If I’d taken a little more of a lead, I would have won that one.