Mitch, our shortstop and one of the two ballplayers from Texas, was up next. He also battled their pitcher and hacked off three pitches that would have been called strikes. The next two were balls intended to get him to chase a bad pitch. Then Mitch was thrown a strike that he swung at and missed, but Joe stole second base to put himself into scoring position.
Dave was up and hit a grounder to first. Their first baseman could only make the play at first, so Dave was out, and Joe found himself at third. I was up next.
Their catcher trotted out and talked to the pitcher. I looked over at third and got the green light to hit. I was shocked when they intentionally walked me to get to Nick, our right fielder. Nick had been hitting well, and if it hadn’t been for my gaudy numbers, he would have led the team in RBIs and power numbers.
I looked at third and got the sign that we would try to hit and run on the first pitch. I would have been running on contact anyway because there were two outs. Coach Kingwood wanted us to put pressure on their catcher by being aggressive.
When the pitcher raised his foot to go home, I broke for second. I didn’t hear the crack of the bat, so I slid. When I didn’t see the shortstop with the ball, I looked to third and Coach Way was waving to take another base. Their catcher had thrown the ball behind me, and it had skipped out to center field. We were now up 1–0.
Nick stepped into the batter’s box and got ready for the pitch. I acted as if I wanted to steal home, probably the hardest play to pull off in baseball. It shook up their pitcher because he called time and had both the catcher and third baseman come out to the mound. Coach Way leaned in so we could talk at third.
“You want to try to steal home?” he asked.
“Why not? It sounds like fun to me,” I said with a big grin.
Tami would’ve loved this. It was like Little League, where you goofed off. I was starting to like Coach Kingwood and his ‘just trust me’ attitude toward me. United would never know what hit them.
I eased out to a big lead again, and their pitcher gave me a confused look. I don’t think he believed I would try to go. He stepped off the bag and tossed the ball to third as I took off towards home. Their catcher jumped up and ran into Nick, causing them to get tangled and fall down, effectively blocking the plate. Nick held his hands up to indicate he wasn’t interfering with the catcher; he had a right to be in the batter’s box.
The catcher jumped up. The third baseman had to hold the ball until the catcher had gotten himself untangled, so the ball and I arrived at the same time. I’d gone in headfirst so I wouldn’t stick my cleats into Nick. Still, I don’t expect he was pleased to have a second player roll him. It reminded me of when Duke would take out Precious.
I slapped my hand on the plate as I felt the tag on my butt.
“Safe!”
“Get off me,” Nick grumped.
He had a big smile on his face, so I knew he wasn’t mad. I helped him up, and he gave me a high five. We were now up 2–0.
Their pitcher didn’t take it well and promptly plunked Nick in the back. Nick had had enough, threw his bat down, and charged the mound.
Oh, shit!
I’d forgotten to tell the team to let me take care of stuff like this. Their pitcher threw his glove at Nick as they came together at the mound. Nick threw a nice hook to the body before the catcher took him down from behind. Our bench jumped up, and soon everyone was on the field. I expected that we were going to do the typical baseball fight/dance where everyone grabbed someone and made it look like they were wrestling.
Their pitcher had other plans. He made a beeline for me, and I only saw him at the last moment as he threw a haymaker at my head from the side. I ducked, but it clipped the top of my head, taking my ball cap off. Now I was pissed. He and I squared off like we were in a hockey fight. He tried to hit me again, but I had other ideas. I deflected his punch, then got inside his guard and pounded him with three body shots that would have put Coach Hope down.
The kid seemed to be confused by the sudden pain and not being able to get his breath. I suspect he must have been used to fighting people who didn’t know what they were doing. I stepped back, and he slumped to the ground. Someone grabbed me from behind, and I just reacted: I tossed their third baseman over my hip. I danced back to make sure no one else had their sights on me. It looked like no one else on United wanted to have a go at me.
I was lucky in that the third base umpire had witnessed my part in the melee. The umpires met and decided that their pitcher and third baseman had instigated our little run-in. Because I hadn’t followed up with either their pitcher or third baseman, my part was deemed self-defense. Both of them were tossed. Nick was also thrown out of the game, along with Coach Kingwood, who got a little too rambunctious in Nick’s defense.
This really was like Little League. Now, all we needed was for a raccoon or a cat to run onto the field, and we would have the perfect game.
After that, everything calmed down, and we settled into a pitching duel. Daz ended up getting the win 3–0 as he threw a three-hitter. We left a ton of base runners stranded. Their long reliever did a phenomenal job of pitching out of trouble. We might have easily had another three or five runs, but just couldn’t get them across for the score.
I did have a couple of defensive plays of note. I ran down two balls that should have been hits. It made me happier to show off my defensive skills tonight than it did to steal home. I wanted to show I wasn’t just a base runner or a bat in the lineup.
◊◊◊
After our ice cream and signing autographs, the press wanted to talk to Coach Kingwood, Nick, and me.
“What happened out there tonight?”
“It was my fault. I wasn’t too happy when their catcher decided to run me over instead of stepping around like he should have,” Nick began. “Then this horse decided to jump on me. He’s much heavier than he looks.”
“If you’d just learn to get out of the way, you wouldn’t get jumped on. I had to get to the bag somehow,” I shot back, smiling.
“You’re lucky he came in headfirst,” Coach Kingwood reminded Nick.
“Yeah, that would have left a mark,” he said with a grin and then got serious. “I was shocked the pitcher would throw at me. This isn’t a rivalry game; he threw at a potential teammate. Then when he tried to sucker-punch David—that was too much. I was glad to see David defend himself.”
“Are both of them okay?” I asked.
“Both are a little bruised, but should be fine,” Coach Kingwood assured me.
◊◊◊
One of our team’s host families invited us to their estate after the game. I say ‘estate’ because that’s what it was. A doctor had purchased fifty acres and built himself a six-thousand square foot eight-bedroom ten-bath monstrosity. He also had a twelve-stall barn for his horses. We all gave Allard a hard time about roughing it.
The food was to die for. The doctor had a cook who made a pork shoulder in a smoker. When it was so tender it fell off the bone, it was shredded, and they made barbecue. They served it on a Kaiser roll with coleslaw on top. It was the best thing I’d eaten since I got here.
M.E. found me.
“Let’s go for a walk,” she suggested.
Mac wanted to go see the horses, so I took her with us to the barn.
Once we were away from everyone, M.E. gave me a look I wasn’t sure how to read.
“Rumor has it you talked to my brother. I don’t need you to get into the middle of what’s going on.”
“I figured while I was saving him from himself, I would also save him from you.”