Senior Year Box Set

Once I finished dressing, I put my earbuds in and listened to rock music until it was time to go out for warm-ups.

◊◊◊

Right before we stepped out of the locker room, Paul and Moose had a quick confab. Moose shook his head and glanced at me. He’d never had a player who attracted quite as much attention as I did. I expected Paul had told him the fans had come out in force.

“Gather around,” Moose called out to get everyone’s attention.

It didn’t take long for everyone to cluster around Moose.

“Pontiac has circled this game on their calendar. They want to take you down today,” Moose said and then sighed when I wrinkled my nose at him.

We’d heard this same speech all year, including during football season. Whenever our coaches started their pregame talk with that, it meant we were facing someone we expected to beat handily.

“David has something to say,” Moose said to dump it my lap.

“Dick,” I mumbled and then got up. “I’m not going to lie to you. On paper, we should beat Pontiac handily. We all know it, and I’m afraid that’ll be our downfall.”

I looked at each of them and saw they recognized what I was talking about, so I continued.

“The difference between a good team and a great one isn’t that much. A good team would go out there today and take care of business and might end up losing this game. A great team won’t let that happen. Once again, all eyes are on Lincoln High. We are one of only a handful of teams that have a legitimate shot at winning state this year. If I were Pontiac, I’d want to take us down.”

“That’s not going to happen,” Tim said.

I smiled.

“No, it’s not. Let’s go out there and show them we’re a great team. While we’re at it, let’s put the other teams on notice that they have to go through the Bulldogs if they want to win state … And no one is getting past us. Let’s go warm up!” I said.

We gathered our gear to begin the trek to the visitors dugout. Once we got to the back door of the school, we saw the crowd. Paul was right: Pontiac wasn’t prepared for the number of people who’d shown up today.

As we looked out of the locker room, we saw the football field to the right and a softball field to our left. They played baseball behind the softball field, and a huge crowd stood between us and where we wanted to go. When they spotted us, a group of teenage girls let out a squeal like they’d just spotted their favorite rock band.

“I need to retire,” Moose said and then turned to the team. “Okay, I want you to …”

“I got this,” I said and walked out the door, intending to do like I’d done in St. Louis and greet my fans.

The crowd surged forward. Paul grabbed me around the waist and pulled me back into the school. I started to worry someone would get hurt.

“There’s no way you’re walking that gauntlet,” Paul said.

“I agree,” I conceded.

“Let me figure this out,” Moose said as he walked off to find someone from Pontiac for ideas.

◊◊◊

We discovered that the middle school was next to the baseball field, so the team loaded onto the bus and drove there. They had a parking lot between the middle school and the ball field that put us at a manageable distance. The team surrounded me, and we pushed our way to the gate to get onto the field.

It took a while to load, drive around, and unload, and the delay had eaten into our regular warm-up time. The local umpire crew wasn’t sympathetic to our plight and ordered us to do an abbreviated warm-up, and then we’d play.

After the national anthem, we took the field to a chorus of boos. It felt weird to have fans against us. Even at our other away games, we had never before faced such a frosty reception.

As I made my way to center field, I heard comments directed at me personally. I couldn’t believe that people would consider those sorts of observations appropriate at an event like this. It was well beyond the catcalls and jeers you might expect.

When they announced the first batter for the Pontiac Indians, the crowd erupted. I could see my teammates all looking around. For the Indians, this was the game of the year. If we had any doubts about their desire to win, the crowd’s response demolished them.

By the seventh inning, I was worried we might be only a good team. Pontiac had a pitcher who had a live arm, and he’d effectively shut our offense down. And it wasn’t just him; their team had made numerous hustling plays that saved him.

In the top of the seventh, I was leading off. Moose pulled me aside before I walked out to the batter’s box.

“I’m not usually one to ask for heroics, but we need your leadership to win this. It’s clear we’re not getting there the way we’re going. I want you to figure this kid out and do something to get us a run.”

“I got this, Coach,” I assured him.