I had to laugh as I rounded first and a car alarm sounded when the baseball finally came back to earth. Dave was waiting to high-five me at home plate. I was surprised when their catcher also high-fived me. I’d forgotten that we could all end up on the final team and weren’t really opponents.
That seemed to turn our bats back on. Unlike the Nationals, our players had pop in their bats. We cruised to a 9–2 victory.
◊◊◊
Our last game before the Gold Medal Game was against Free. We’d already locked up our spot with a perfect 7–0 record.
We were in the outfield, supposedly warming up. But we were instead playing intense concentration, a little game of ‘throw the baseball at someone’s nuts while you’re in a circle.’ For some reason, everyone liked this game I’d taught them.
“What’s the deal with tomorrow?” Allard asked Dave.
Dave was the only one who had been on the younger teams, so he was our go-to guy for all things USA Baseball.
“I heard they plan to hold a home-run derby at ten in the morning. The Bronze Medal Game will be at one, and the Gold Medal Game will be played at four.”
I skillfully avoided a backhanded throw from Trent.
“When do we find out who made the cut?” Lucas asked.
“They’ll announce it on their TV show. Last time, I was told before leaving so I could plan to go to the next camp. I suspect they’ll talk to each of us and let us know before we leave. I remember they didn’t want word to get out before they made the announcement official,” Dave explained.
Joe saved the family jewels when I made a wicked underhand toss his way.
“Rumor has it that David had the fastest sixty time. How fast were you?” Nick asked.
“I don’t know, I didn’t ask.” I looked around, spotted Bob, and waved him over. “What was my sixty time?”
“6.37. Coach Kingwood said that a time of 6.7 to 6.9 was average in the big leagues. Last year’s best time was 6.62, but the year before they had someone run a 6.28,” Bob said and kind of shuffled his feet.
“What else you have you got for us?” I asked.
“You’re starting today.”
Luke, who should be starting, didn’t look happy, and I didn’t blame him. Bob saw it.
“You get to start tomorrow in the Gold Medal Game. They just want to use David to keep your arms fresh for the big game. Coach plans to pitch all of you so the scouts and other coaches get to see you on the mound,” Bob shared.
“Sucks to be me,” I said with a faux pout.
Daz took my moment of goofing off as a chance to hit me in the nuts. Damn, that hurt. No one seemed to feel sorry for me. For about the hundredth time, I wondered why boys thought hitting other boys in the nuts was funny. I tossed the ball at Kale and scored. Oh, that’s why.
◊◊◊
Coach Kingwood motioned me to the dugout where Moose was waiting.
“I assume Bob told you.”
“He is handy at doing your dirty work,” I teased.
“You okay with pitching? I know it’s short notice. If your arm is hurting, tell me now and Luke can take the mound.”
“No, I’m good,” I assured him.
“Free hasn’t won a game yet, but you know what that means,” Moose said.
“That they’ll want to win one, and we’re the team to beat,” I said, catching on to what Moose was getting at.
“Free hasn’t caught a break during field play. They seem to get things started, but somehow find a way to shoot themselves in the foot. Just pitch your game and take it easy. If you start to get tired, tell Coach Kingwood,” Moose advised.
◊◊◊
The wind had calmed some by the start of the game. There were still gusts that could make it interesting for any pop-ups. It looked as if the stands would be full again. My coaches were all able to watch me play tonight since this was our last game before the Gold Medal Game.
Coach Herndon had left this afternoon so he could be with his family. I assumed Mike had put up a stink that his dad was here with me. All Moose would say was it was a family matter, but there seemed to be something else going on. If Moose didn’t think it was an issue, then I was fine.
Greg, Angie, Peggy, and Pam had already started home with the kids. They’d been bored and a little fussy at Tuesday’s game; I guess they were a little young to sit through a baseball game, even if Unca David was playing. I was glad they’d come because it felt like I was missing out on Coby growing up. It seemed like he was doing something new every day, and I would miss even more over the summer, as I would be constantly on the go.
The baseball game turned into everything Moose had predicted. I would find myself in a jam, and Free would hit into a double play or make a running error or some other bonehead play. Whatever it was would take them out of the inning. I lasted five innings before I was sent to center field.
In the last inning, Free was up to bat, and we had sent in our closer, Kale, to wrap this up. He was facing the bottom of their order, and we were up 3–0. Kale must not have been feeling it, because the first two batters reached base on singles, which made us a little nervous. Then he bore down and struck the next batter out, only to walk the next one.
Free now had the winning run as well as the top of the order at the plate. The crowd seemed to sense that the underdog had a chance, and the volume in the stadium seemed to double. Coach Kingwood made a trip to the mound, and it looked like Kale was okay.
On the first pitch, I heard the crack of the bat that told me the ball was well hit. I watched it sail down the first base line as Nick worked his way towards the right-field corner. I felt a gust of wind and smiled as it pushed the ball foul. It seemed Mother Nature wasn’t a fan of Free.
Kale and Free’s leadoff hitter locked into a battle of wills. Kale was throwing some of his best stuff, but their hitter seemed to fight the pitches off to keep alive. The count was finally full. I gave their hitter a lot of credit for having a good eye. He’d laid off three pitches that were borderline and could’ve been called third strikes. I just hoped that Kale could keep their hitter from straightening out one of his offerings.
On the next pitch, Kale threw the heat low and away. Their hitter reached out, found the ball, and sent it sailing into the left/center field gap. Both Blake and I were hustling to try to catch the ball to prevent runs from scoring. I felt I could get there, but Blake called me off. That was when Mother Nature decided she wasn’t done with us and decided to balance the scales. There was a gust of wind which suddenly made a good play almost impossible. Blake did the only thing he could and dove for the ball.
I made a move to back him up if he missed it. The ball came down and hit off Blake’s glove. I suddenly had a baseball flying at my face, so I did what anyone would’ve done: I ducked. In that split second, I knew all of Free’s base runners had put their heads down and were sprinting to the next base. This was their chance to right the wrongs of the last few days. Out of habit, I did what Moose had drilled into me: I reached behind me and blindly made a grab for the ball.
Somehow, I found the ball in the web of my glove. I didn’t hesitate; I fired the ball to second to double their runner up and end the game.
Baseball USA filmed the games in order to have highlights for their selection and recap shows. When the highlights were shown later, it looked like I was just hotdogging it. The look on the Free players’ faces was priceless. It was like hitting a basket to win the game, only to have the other team hit a three-quarter-length of the floor buzzer shot. The only time I can remember an opponent being more stunned was the Nazareth Academy game. Their quarterback did an ‘f-you’ move after the gun and flipped the ball to Yuri for us to beat them.