John Cena came out on stage as they went to commercial.
“The High School Male Athlete of the Year nominees are …”
The video started on the big screen. It showed each one of us doing our sport in which we had won. When the video ended, John stepped up to the mic.
“And the winner is … David Dawson of Lincoln High.”
I didn’t get a chance to go on stage and give a speech. Instead, I was taken out of the theater and back to the Gatorade room, where I was given my award.
It happened the same way for the Joe Montana Quarterback award for the best high school quarterback. At least for that one, I knew who my competition was: Wes Hunt. I had a clue that I’d won when Wes didn’t show up for the awards presentation.
Honestly, I was okay with not getting my moment on stage because, like most award shows, this event seemed to never end. We’d been there for four hours when we called it a night. I wanted to eat something and catch a red-eye flight back to Houston for my last game.
Okay, the real reason I was leaving was that I hadn’t been invited to any of the after-parties.
I called Caryn before I left, to check on what had happened with the Dakora tux.
“Dakora understands, especially after Adrienne explained it to them. She and Frank have gotten together, and Frank used his media contacts to create a minor ‘Who is David wearing and why won’t he say?’ buzz. It’s already gotten a bunch of hits on Hollywood Central, and the blurb includes the reasoning behind it, so you’re good.
“Frank, Adrienne, and I got together with Mr. Morris. He said it definitely would have been a violation without your agreement with the NCAA in place. Mr. Morris said it’s possible you would still have a problem even with the agreement. But you made the right calls, even though someone in your camp should have identified the issue earlier and called him.”
I didn’t buy it. I’d read the rules and our agreement with the NCAA and knew I was golden, but there was no need to poke the bear. Of course, I also realized Mr. Morris earned his money by the hour. I guess I would rather spend some money and have the peace of mind. Caryn had done well to take care of this so quickly, so I thanked her, told her I would see her when I got home, and hung up.
I gave my two awards to my dad for safekeeping. Paul and I then drove to the airport. I was happy my usual sidekick was going with me.
◊◊◊
Chapter 25 – We’re More Than Good Sunday July 17
I had a small smile on my face when Allard told me they’d lost last night and pointed out that it was due to me not playing. It was funny how my goofing around had predicted what would happen. I just hoped the selection committee saw it the same way, and that got me on the team.
Today we were skipping the meetings and practice because we had a late-morning game. Coach Kingwood found me before we got on the bus.
“Did you win?”
“Yeah, I took care of business.”
“Good, because I need your head in the game today. Last night we met and pretty much figured out who’ll be on the team. We only have three spots not locked in, and eight candidates for those spots, four of whom are on our team. I want you to talk to these guys and let them know they need to step it up today.”
He handed me a list. It had on it Dave Gordon, M.E.’s brother (first base); Nick Madigan (right field); Mitch Underwood (shortstop); and Trent Black (catcher). I was surprised to see Dave on the list. But the other three had been on Pride in North Carolina with me and had been displaced in the starting lineup by other players, including the three young ones.
“Why’s Dave on the list?” I asked.
“Attitude. Without you here last night, he acted as if he was in charge. It messed up the team dynamic, and I’m sure that was why we played so badly last night. That boy can be a pain in the behind. I had to sit him down and explain the facts of life to him, or he might have gotten his butt kicked.”
“That’s too bad. Can we keep M.E. if he doesn’t make it?” I asked.
“Sorry, they’re a package deal, I’m afraid. We’ll just have to find some others to take their place.”
I didn’t want to think about that. I guessed since Coach Kingwood was talking to me about it that I’d made the team, but I didn’t want to ask or assume anything. He was at least letting them all play today to show what they had.
◊◊◊
We were at the Urban Youth Academy to play our last game. I was glad we were playing in the morning before it got hot out. At least someone was using their head when they planned this. I pulled the four guys at risk together before the game.
“I talked to Coach, and he said you were all on the bubble. They’re looking at eight guys to fill the last three spots. You’re all going to get one last opportunity to show what you can do today.”
“What, I’m not a lock?” Dave complained.
“From what I heard, you made an ass of yourself last night. Remember when we had the talk about fitting in and being a team player? If I were you, I would be the biggest cheerleader you can be today.”
Dave didn’t look happy.
“Snap out of it,” I ordered. “I want M.E. to be our batgirl in Mexico. I’ll be disappointed if she isn’t there because you couldn’t get with the program.”
That seemed to shock him because he just nodded and walked off to think. When he came back, he was a new man. I hoped it would be enough to get him on the team.
◊◊◊
Austin was getting the start today. He was a right-hander who hailed from Florida. He told us he lived in an area called the Nature Coast, north of Tampa. It was noted for not having the urban sprawl that had taken over south Florida. They had sea cows called manatees that loved the warm water from the springs in the rivers.
I was fired-up to win this game. I felt like I did before a football game, and I actually had to go to the locker room and throw up prior to the start. When I got back, we took the field, and every player had his game face on. At the beginning of the week, it was more about fun. Now? We were ready to dominate since we wanted to get those three remaining slots. Somehow word had gotten out that we needed to support our teammates. Who would ever do something like that?
Austin threw well in warm-ups. Their first man up was their speedy center fielder. Austin hung a curveball, and he slapped it up the middle. On contact, Logan Greene, our second baseman, and Mitch Underwood, our shortstop, exploded out of their stances and made an all-out effort to get to the ball. We’d practiced where Logan would go deep, and Mitch would go in front if they ever crossed. They did that because the shortstop had a better chance to throw out the runner since he was running towards first base. Mitch snagged the ball just behind second base and threw a rocket to Dave, covering first. I think he caught it out of self-defense.
Mitch ended up handling all three balls in the first inning. Two of them would have been base hits if he hadn’t been focused and hustled. Austin swatted him on the butt when he came into the dugout. Coach Kingwood looked at me, and our expressions agreed that the message had been delivered. Mitch planned to be one of the three.
“Way to hustle,” I congratulated him.
I could see him relax some. He was showing he would do what it took, and I knew everyone that mattered had seen it too.
I was up fourth in the first inning. Logan walked, and then both Mitch and Dave hit the ball right at someone and were out. I stepped into the batter’s box and Coach Way signaled for me to take the first pitch. So, I dug in and watched a fastball catch the outside corner for strike one. I stepped out of the box and visualized hitting the ball over the first baseman’s head. On the second pitch, I saw the ball well as it came out of the pitcher’s hand. It was a hanging changeup, right in the zone. I held my hands back to keep from overswinging and then punched the ball over the first baseman.