Junior Year Box Set

The kid staggered up, and his left elbow and knee were visibly bleeding. The trainer ran out and checked him out, and after a minute’s examination, decided he was good to go.

That play set the tone for the game. Both teams were in this no matter what it took. Going into the eighth inning, we were down 4–1, and Cuba was up to bat. Daz came in and promptly worked his way into a jam. He walked the first batter. The next one, he got to hit a grounder to third, and the base runner advanced to second when Royce threw out the runner at first.

We needed to get out of this inning without them scoring another run. I hadn’t trailed in a game by more than a run since I was in North Carolina. I certainly hadn’t been down three runs. It made me wonder if I’d lost my magic when the next batter hit a grounder to first that ate up Nick. He bobbled the ball just long enough for the runner to be safe at first, and it advanced the guy from second to third.

We had to stop the run from scoring. Coach Kingwood signaled for me to come in right behind second base. Then he had Tristan and Jared move closer to center field to help cover a deep ball up the middle.

There are times you just know that a big play’s about to happen. I think everyone in the stadium felt it. All the fans rooting for Cuba were up out of their seats. They smelled blood in the water and were on their feet, cheering. Our fans had stood up as well. They were more subdued, but they were showing their support.

Daz threw his next pitch, and I heard the crack of the bat.

“Crud!” I yelled as it rose over my head.

I sprinted back as I’d practiced since the spring. The ball hung up and seemed to hover above me. I had no doubt that I could catch it; my worry was the kid at third who was waiting to tag up and score on the sacrifice fly. I knew I had to do something drastic, so I kept running back.

Tristan looked confused as he suddenly wondered if I’d misread the ball. He began to sprint over to make the play.

“Mine! Mine! Mine!” I screamed.

I’d read about a spectacular fielding play once, and I’d idly imagined trying to do it a few times, but the chance had never come up. It looked like now was the time to try it, if ever there was a time.

I timed the fall of the ball and, when I’d overrun where the landing spot would be, I dropped into a short slide with my feet up. Then I put my feet down and let the cleats pop me back up as I abruptly changed directions and sprinted full-out back towards the ball. I was at full speed when the ball dropped into my glove. I showed why I was the number one quarterback prospect in high school football as I timed my footwork perfectly to launch a screaming ball towards home.

The runner had tagged up and was three-quarters of the way home when Patrick tossed his mask to the side and got into position to block the plate. It was a bang-bang play, and I jumped up and pumped my fist when the plate umpire signaled the runner was out.

For a moment, the stadium became quiet, stunned by what they’d just seen. Ninety-nine out of a hundred times, that would have been a routine run. I’d beaten the odds and gunned him down. Our fans finally had something to cheer about. I think the Cuban team suddenly realized that this might not be over.

“Be in the moment. Do what must be done next. Don’t try to get it all back at once. We need base runners to get back into this game,” Coach Kingwood reminded us.

It seemed like he wasn’t even looking at me when he said it. Maybe he wouldn’t chew me out for the fielding play after all.

The bottom two spots in the order were up first. Coach Short had been working with them on getting to hit again. The bottom half of our lineup had been cold in the first game, and that had continued today. I smiled when they both bunted and were now on first and second with no outs. I was up.

Coach Conde was talking to their manager when he saw I was up again. He must have decided to bring in another pitcher to face me. They trotted out a left-hander, and while he warmed up, Coach Short called me over.

“This kid has a wicked curveball. It’s his go-to pitch for a strikeout.”

“David, get this game tied up,” Coach Kingwood added.

I just nodded, and the plate umpire motioned that it was time to play ball.

When I stepped into the batter’s box, our fans began to chant. “USA … USA … USA!”

The Cuban fans did everything they could to drown ours out. I stepped out of the box to take it all in. This was the most important at-bat I’d had to this point in my career. I needed to get a hit at the very least. If I hit a homer to tie the game, that would be great, but I couldn’t make an out.