Senior Year Box Set

The next pitch was a slider that caught the corner down and away for the second strike. I suspected the pitcher would throw his fastball either high or outside and see if Tim would chase it. Apparently, Tim thought the same thing as the pitcher threw it right down the middle. Tim made a weak hack at it but missed, striking out.

Moose substituted Johan for Trent as the next batter. Moose sent Tim and me to the bullpen to warm up to take Trent’s place on the mound for the last inning. We didn’t really have enough time for me to properly warm up, so I didn’t get to witness what happened next. Later, Wolf told me that Johan struck out as well, and Ty hit into a fielder’s choice to end the inning.

Eastside’s coach must have been sighing with relief that his strategy had paid off.

When I came in, I threw a split-fingered fastball to the first batter. The pitch is designed to drop at the last moment. The idea is to have the batter actually hit it. What happens is they see ‘fastball,’ and when it drops, they top it, causing a grounder. The ball bounced to Ty at third, and he scooped it up for the out.

The next guy up hadn’t shown much of a bat, so I just struck him out on three straight fastballs. Up next was their big right fielder. He’d hit nine home runs this year, so I knew he could take me long. The Alpha Male in me wanted to go mano a mano and challenge him, but Tim had other ideas, and, for once, I listened to him.

On the first pitch, I threw a changeup. Usually, you threw a fastball or three to set that pitch up. Tim guessed that the hitter expected that, so he called for the slower pitch. Eastside’s batter began to take a mighty cut as his eyes got big, thinking I’d thrown something he could hit. He undoubtedly had visions of his teammates hoisting him on their shoulders and the town throwing him a parade when they got home after he hit the game-winning home run.

In a split second, he realized it wasn’t a fastball and tried to hold up. The net effect was his bat head hung over the plate with zero momentum when the ball struck it. He hit a weak line drive to Wolf for the final out. The poor kid’s face showed his crushing disappointment at letting his teammates down.

In our half of the inning, we had the meat of our order coming up, with me batting third. Up first was Bryan, who would be followed by Wolf.

Coach Haskins had been working with us all season on how to be better hitters. Bryan was one of his star pupils and now had one of the team’s better eyes, which made him a difficult out. That meant he no longer chased pitches outside the strike zone. If you wanted to get Bryan out, you had to throw him pitches he could hit.

On the first two pitches, the Eastside pitcher threw consecutive fastballs that were outside and up for balls. On the third pitch, he threw his curveball. The one weakness Bryan had was hitting the curve. Let’s be honest, almost every high school hitter had trouble with the curve. When their pitcher figured that out, Bryan got a steady diet of curveballs and struck out.

Up next, Wolf was ready for the curve on the first pitch. If you knew that was a pitcher’s go-to move, good hitters adjusted. Wolf hit a towering shot over the right-field fence for the win. I joined our team at home to greet Wolf. It looked like Lady Luck was still with us. Only six more games to go.

◊◊◊ Saturday April 29

It was finally drying out after a week of daily rain. The effect of the semi-deluge was that spring had sprung, so to speak. One of our neighbors had a huge flower bed. On my morning run, I noticed that it seemed to have bloomed all at once. I pulled out my phone to take some pictures.

Clusters of hyacinths dominated everything with their sweet, lingering scent. In other clumps, they’d planted irises and tulips. Behind the flower bed was the lush foliage of peonies that looked like they would bloom soon. Seeing Mother Nature coming to life put me in a good mood.

I’d almost reached home when I saw the hairs on Duke’s back go up.

“Easy,” I chastised.

As we turned the corner for our street, I saw what had riled him. We’d gotten a new neighbor, a guy in his early thirties. He owned Duke’s new archnemesis, Max, a German shepherd that was too aggressive, in my opinion. To top it off, Max was taking a dump on the sidewalk in front of our house.

One reason I made sure Duke had time to do his business before we went on our morning runs was I absolutely hated having to pick that up. I carried bags just in case, but it wasn’t something I enjoyed.

Backyard cleanup was much easier. I used a hoe and a five-gallon bucket. We put it all into the compost pile we used for the garden. When I’d turned over the yard work to Wolf and company, I’d happily removed that from my chore list.

Being a responsible dog owner meant dealing with stuff like this. That was why I was irritated when the new neighbor began to walk away after Max had left a substantial steaming pile behind.

“Hey!” I barked. “Leave something?”