“Coach, I need your help,” Mike told his dad as we jogged over to where he was evaluating pitchers.
“What’s up, Mike?” his dad answered.
“David says that he can strike anyone out with his new Kung Fu pitching style. I told him he couldn’t strike my dad out,” Mike said.
Oh, he was good. He’d just used the ‘My Dad’ routine. He had his dad eating out of his hand. Coach Herndon puffed up at his son’s confidence in him.
“David, have you been talking smack again?”
“Sir, it’s not smack if I can back it up,” I challenged him.
He gave me the look every parent gets when they decide they’d make an example of you. I knew Mike’s dad had played minor-league ball. He’d faced much better pitching than I could bring.
“Is that so?” he shot back.
I just nodded and tried not to smile. I had a flashback to a conversation my mom had with her mom. I had made some smartass comment, and grandma looked at my mom and told her paybacks were hell. The point she made was karma was a bitch, and your children would get even with you someday. I wondered if my little monsters would be this bad.
“We’ll test this theory of yours. At the end of practice, I’ll send up three batters for you to face as everyone watches. If any of them gets a hit, you have to be the batboy for the first game.”
That got the team’s attention. I started to wonder who Mike was setting up.
“But I want the best. Mike tells me you used to be able to hit at one point, until you got old,” I said, throwing down the gauntlet.
My mouth had quickly written checks my butt couldn’t pay for. Even Mike looked shocked.
“Okay, tough guy! If you strike out three batters, you’ll get a shot at me. If you strike me out, too, I’ll be your bag boy this season. If you lose, you do it for the team. You’d better think about how tough you think you are. Are you sure you want to do this?”
I looked around and everyone had a gleam in their eye. They all wanted a piece of me. If I could pull this off, I’d be ‘King of the Hill’ for the rest of the year.
“Hell, yes! Bring it on!” I said to the cheers of the team.
The cheering got the attention of Moose. He jogged over to see what the commotion was. While Coach Herndon explained, Tim and Mike pulled me aside.
“Dude, what did you just do?” Mike asked.
“This was your plan,” I shot back.
He just sputtered.
“Okay, Cap, you got us into this, we’ll help you win this challenge,” Tim assured me.
I felt better knowing that Tim, my normal catcher, would help me out. It would be easier with him behind the plate.
I wasn’t surprised that Moose was all for this little exhibition. He, too, wanted to knock me off my pedestal. Towards the end of practice, he sent Tim and me to the bullpen to get ready. He brought both the JV and varsity together to have his after-practice talk since tomorrow would be the first round of cuts. He told them how it worked. There would be a list on his door in the morning, and if you were on the list, you should show up for practice.
He told the rest of our team my challenge. He asked for volunteers to bat against me. To a man, they all raised their hands. I noticed Mike even volunteered. I might have to bean him if he was selected.
“Looks like they all want a shot at you,” Tim said casually.
“Looks that way.”
“How do you want to do this?”
“What do you mean?”
“You want to put them in the dirt?” he said with an evil grin.
“Nah, I’ll just dazzle them with my bullshit.”
“I’d put ’em in the dirt,” he suggested.
I just shook my head. I just might before we were done.
The coaches got together and decided who should bat against me. I was surprised when none of the guys I’d worked out with at State were chosen. I guess they didn’t want me to have any knowledge of who I’d be up against. I also think they didn’t want my buddies to help me. It turned out Coach Haskins had some ideas. He selected Bryan and Brock Callahan. He also picked Nick Rake, one of my freshman lunch-mates from the first semester.
“Here are the rules: all the batter has to do is get the ball in play,” Moose announced.
He let me throw a few warm-up tosses, so I could get a feel of the mound. Coach Herndon had the three batters together in a huddle and was telling them what to look for. Coach Haskins had volunteered to call balls and strikes.
The first batter up was Nick. He didn’t look happy. I understood why when he squared around to bunt. Coach Herndon thought he could get a quick win with this strategy. I took Tim’s advice. I threw a high hard one right at Nick’s chin. I damn near clipped him. I’d let my anger get the better of me. I liked Nick.
Moose would have none of this.
“Dawson, these are your teammates!” he yelled at me. Then he turned on Nick. “You will swing away. No bunting!”
When Nick got back into the batter’s box, his body language said he was afraid. A fastball thrown at your head will do that to you. I think Tim saw it, too. He called for my new curveball. Shiggy had taught me how to throw a big sweeping curve. My starting target was the batter’s head. I snapped it off and saw Nick’s knees buckle as he tried to get out of the way. The ball slapped into Tim’s mitt without him having to move it.
“Steeriiike One!” Coach Haskins called out.
Nick didn’t stand a chance. I threw two more curveballs and on the third one he finally stood his ground and took a cut at it. I think he was glad when he was done.
Up next was Bryan. He’d played varsity ball on his high school team in New Jersey. I wouldn’t get him out just by throwing curve balls. What I did know was Coach Haskins. His philosophy was to see a pitch first, then battle. His idea of a good at bat was to foul the ball off five times. He wanted to have the opposing pitcher throw as many pitches as possible to tire him out. I’d seen him talking to the Callahan twins earlier. I would bet he told them to take the first pitch.
The twins were big boys. I also bet they would love for me to challenge them with a fastball right down the center. I’d use my knowledge against them.
My first pitch was a four-seam fastball. Bryan hesitated, but it looked too good to pass up. The four-seam tends to rise up when thrown correctly. The combination of the rise and Bryan’s hesitation had him miss badly.
Bryan got a determined look on his face. He wouldn’t miss again. Tim called for my forkball. In warmups, it had worked well. It was a fastball that seemed to drop right off the table. When I threw it, Bryan had it zeroed in. He made a mighty cut as the ball disappeared on him. He slammed his bat on the ground in disgust. I could hear Tim jawing at him to get him more worked up.
Tim wanted me to throw another four-seam fastball past him. I wasn’t confident that was a good idea, but he was my catcher. I put a little extra on it and I heard the crack of the bat. SHIT!
Bryan had put a thundering shot on the ball down the first base line. I watched as it slowly curved foul. I was a little disappointed in my teammates as they groaned when it landed. They all laughed when I pointed at my eyes and then at them to let them know I was watching how they acted.
To this point, I had only thrown strikes. Tim called for my two-seam fastball, low and away. The two-seam has a different movement than the four-seam. It tends to tail, or sink, either left or right. With all of the movement, it was a harder pitch to learn to control. I planned to throw it so it tailed down to the left and way out of the zone. Poor Bryan lunged at it and missed. I was happy to see a few of my teammates cheered for me.
The team was more into it now. It looked like it was split down JV and varsity lines. I stalked around the mound like I was getting pumped up to uncork a huge fastball. Brock dug in and smiled at me. It reminded me of the smile Precious gave Duke right before she pounced on him. I reared back and threw a changeup. Brock might have had a chance to hit it once he corkscrewed around again. Tim was having loads of fun as he teased him about it.