Lakeview had planned ahead and was already dressed for the game when their bus pulled up. We exited the field to allow them to get ready. While they went through their warm-up drills, I gathered our team together for a quick pep talk.
“I want you all to recognize that this is the game we might lose. Admit it, you all are thinking Lakeview will be an easy win,” I said.
“It should be,” Wolf said.
“That’s precisely the reason you all should be worried. All Lady Luck has to do is look down at our arrogance and decide to mess with us. A ball takes a funny bounce, an umpire misses a call, one of you boneheads hangs a fastball that gets parked. I could go on, but you get what I’m saying. That’s why we need to focus and take them out.
“I don’t want to be in the bottom of the seventh needing to come back because we screwed up. Winning eight straight games isn’t going to be easy, but that’s exactly what I plan to do. We are Lincoln High. We’ve spent the last four years here building something. I want to go out a winner, and it all starts today,” I finished passionately.
“Who are we?!” Tim barked.
“BULLDOGS!” we responded as a team.
“Where are we?!”
“OUR HOUSE!”
I glanced over at Moose and Coach Haskins, and they wore satisfied looks on their faces. Time for us to start our quest.
◊◊◊
We were cruising to our first victory in the top of the seventh. We had a 4–0 lead with the bottom third of Lakeview’s order coming up. Moose had started Justin, our ace, and followed with Phil and Bert. Brock was brought in to bring it home.
Lakeview’s first batter was a weak-hitting shortstop who had a .124 batting average for the season. Basically, that meant you totally sucked because getting a hit in high school ball wasn’t all that hard. His swing reminded me a little of my ex-best friend Alan’s. I sometimes wondered if Alan even opened his eyes when he would whack away.
Brock threw the first two pitches outside, out of the batter’s reach, and he swung at them. I assumed Brock would do the same thing again, but he got cute and threw a changeup right down the center of the plate. Moose had me playing shallow to help clean up any weak hits up the middle. I muttered a bad word when the kid swung and connected.
As soon as I heard the contact, I was in a full sprint back. I all but made a spectacular catch, but the ball hit the lip of my glove and shot to the fence. I tracked it down and held their shortstop to a double.
Up next was their catcher. He was a decent hitter, so Moose moved me to my usual place in the outfield. Brock tried to get him to chase a couple of outside pitches, but he didn’t bite. On the next pitch, Brock threw a curveball that buckled the kid’s knees. Instead of coming back with a pitch the batter obviously wasn’t comfortable with, Brock threw a fastball down and outside.
Their catcher reached out and drove the ball down the first base line. That allowed their shortstop to score, and their catcher ended up on second base with a stand-up double.
Up next was their pitcher’s spot in the order. Lakeview’s coach substituted a pinch hitter. I hadn’t seen him yet, so I’d no idea what kind of hitter he was. From the outfield, I guessed he was a freshman by his slight build.
On the first pitch, Brock threw a fastball that rose in the zone. I stood there and watched the ball sail over my head for a home run. Right then, I decided Lady Luck was a bitch and needed to die. Our lead had been cut to 4–3 in the blink of an eye.
Moose had seen enough. He waved me in to pitch.
When I reached the mound, Moose looked pissed.
“Don’t get fancy. Just throw it by them,” he ordered as he handed me the ball.
Lakeview now had the top of their order up with no outs. If I were behind, this would be the best possible situation for my team.
Lakeview’s leadoff man, their second baseman, had a live bat and some speed on the base paths. He looked over at his coach and received signals as to what the coach wanted him to do. His body language said he planned to bunt.
Tim signaled for a fastball low and away, and I shook him off. Tim gave me the same signal once more, and I shook him off again.
“Time!” Tim said as he trotted out to the mound. “What are you doing?”
“He wants to bunt the ball. If I throw it low and outside, he’ll push it to first, and it might get past Wolf. I want to throw a curve and hope he gets under it for a pop-up,” I explained.
“How about a high fastball?” Tim suggested.
“You’re the boss,” I said with a smile.
I won’t repeat what he said.
Both Wolf and Ty began to charge the bag as the hitter squared up to bunt. I released a smoking fastball high in the zone. Like I wanted, he got under it when he made contact and popped it up. What’s the saying about being careful what you wish for? The ball flew over Ty’s head and was about to land and roll into the outfield.
As soon as I released the ball, I’d fallen into a defensive stance to make a play if needed. The second the bat made contact, I was moving. I watched Ty all but snap an ankle as he tried to change directions and collapsed in a heap. I took three steps and dove for the ball.
It took the crowd a moment to realize I’d caught it, robbing Lakeview’s leadoff man of a base hit.
I jumped up and pumped my arms in the air to celebrate. It fired my guys up. On back-to-back chances, they made great fielding plays to get us our first win. Only seven more to go.
◊◊◊ Thursday April 27
Eastside had taken care of Mt. Vernon, which meant they would be our regional semifinal opponent. It rained again today, and when we walked out to warm up, we weren’t allowed on the infield. We had a crew out using puddle sponges, which resembled pillows, soaking up any standing water.
After they’d gotten the worst of it up, the groundskeepers applied some calcined clay drying agents for the mound and batter’s boxes.
When Eastside warmed up, they were made to stay off the infield as well. Right before the game started, they allowed our starting battery, Trent and Tim, to go out and warm up.
Last game, our stands had filled in slowly because we started early. This time, the crowd was bigger from the beginning. It looked as though many of the fans had taken the opportunity to play hooky from work to come watch the game. Almost all the spectators had come decked out in orange and blue, our school colors.
Today, Moose let Trent stay on the mound beyond a couple of innings. I found playing behind a ground-ball pitcher like Trent to be one of the hardest things to do while playing baseball. I didn’t have a ball hit to me in the first five innings. In fact, I barely moved at all.
In the top of the sixth, with one out, the Eastside batter popped the ball up into shallow center field just behind second base. I took off as soon as the ball left the bat, determined to make the play on this one.
“Mine!” I yelled when I saw Brock backing up to make a play as well.
When he heard my call, Brock peeled off to give me room to make the catch. Hindsight being 20/20, I’d probably made the wrong call because Brock was closer. I was a little irritated with myself when I saw I would have a tight race to snag the ball before it hit the ground.
I debated diving headfirst or sliding to make the play. The advantage of sliding was your body remained more upright, which made it easier to block the ball if it hit the ground. I wound up sliding on the slick grass as I made a stab at the ball. This time, Lady Luck smiled down on me, and I made the grab.
Brock gave me a pained look because I’d made that play far more difficult than it needed to be.
“Sorry. I made the wrong call on that one,” I admitted.
“If you’d missed it, then we would have had words,” Brock said with a smile.