Junior Year Box Set

They soon learned what my speed coach had been teaching me. I could stop on a dime and be going in a different direction at full speed in the blink of an eye. If they weren’t going full-out, they couldn’t catch me. If they did it right, I really didn’t have a chance. That didn’t mean I was easy on them. Finally, Coach took pity on me when he saw I’d sweat through my jersey and pants in the Houston heat. I think I drank a gallon of water.

◊◊◊

Tonight’s game was at the Urban Youth Academy. This was more like playing a game at the park than at a stadium. It was a nice setup, but there was very little seating for fans. I was glad my family and friends hadn’t made the trip. They might’ve been standing the whole game.

Coach Kingwood sent me out to exchange lineups. When I came back, he wasn’t happy. The Stripes were using the same lineup as they had the night before.

“It looks like they’re determined to get a win,” I observed.

“That wasn’t what we talked about … uh … forget you heard that,” he told me.

“Don’t worry about it. You won’t lose to them until Saturday,” I predicted.

He shook his head and then gave me a curious look.

“You’ve never lost a game with me in the lineup,” I said, smiling.

“Go away and leave me alone,” Coach Kingwood said.

◊◊◊

We huddled up before going to bat in the first inning.

“They want this game bad. I want you to be on your toes and remember W.I.N. Each pitch, each moment, have your head in the game. Focus on good things happening. If something bad does happen … shake it off. And something else to keep in mind: we have a secret weapon. Every time Dawson starts, we win,” Coach Kingwood said.

I just smiled and nodded to my teammates.

The pitcher book said that the kid we’d be facing was their best, on paper. I remembered I’d batted against him in North Carolina, and we had rocked him pretty good, but we did that to everyone. If he gave us his best game, we’d be looking at a low-scoring contest. I didn’t think they would score much off Luke, who had been on our original team.

Our leadoff hitter found a first-pitch curve right over the plate and hit a bloop single over their shortstop. From the dugout, I expected another curveball, but instead, he served up a slider way outside. I was surprised when Coach Way signaled for the bunt. I guess Coach Kingwood thought we needed to move our base runner into scoring position.

For pitchers, the first inning is always dangerous. Your adrenaline is pumping, and you haven’t settled in yet. I found as a pitcher that if I could settle my nerves and survive the first inning, I was good to go. If you had a bad first inning, it could affect your confidence, and minor problems could snowball. With that in mind, I liked the aggression of bunting in this situation.

I knew our batter had a problem as soon as the ball was thrown. There was no way he was getting out of the way of that pitch since it was delivered with some serious heat. The only consolation was it hit him in the thigh. If that pitch had been higher, there could have been real damage. Seeing a pitch like that reminded me of why I wore the protective gear Sandy Range had sent me.

The trainer trotted out to check on our player while the umpire warned both benches. I grabbed my bat and helmet and trotted out to the on-deck circle. I watched as the pitcher threw a wild pitch, and our baserunners both advanced. It didn’t matter, though, when he threw three more balls to walk our batter.

I had a little smile when I realized that they couldn’t walk me in this situation without giving up a run. The Stripes manager walked out to the mound, and they discussed what they wanted to have happen. It was apparent their pitcher was pissed, and I rather agreed with him. It wasn’t usual to have your manager come to the mound in the first inning. If you did see someone, it was usually your pitching coach. This told me they wanted this game.

Their pitcher threw me twelve pitches as I battled to stay alive. He’d done a good job of not giving me anything I could hit. But many of them were too close for me to hold up on and trust the umpire to call them a ball, so I fouled them off. On the thirteenth pitch, he threw his first changeup. When it left his hand, I knew it was a hittable ball. Thankfully, I didn’t guess fastball, or I would have been way ahead of it.

I held back for a split second and pushed it over the first baseman’s head. I was running full-out on contact. Since it was in front of me, I could see it was going to make it to the fence, so I didn’t slow down when I rounded first. I turned my head to Coach Way at third base and ignored what was happening in the outfield. I was sure I could get a stand-up double, but he waved me to third. This was all part of our plan to be aggressive on the basepaths, but this time it bit us in the butt. I was gunned down when their second baseman executed a perfect relay.

I dusted myself off and trotted to the dugout where Coach Kingwood stopped me.