Chapter Ten -
Baseball

I didn’t care much for school. I much preferred to be outside playing some game or sport. I was a pretty good baseball player. I could play most positions with ease. As a batter, I was pretty good.

One practice session after school, my coach wanted to try me as a pitcher. I had a pretty good arm because I played third base most of the time. I thought I would have little difficulty pitching. During the rest of the session I pitched batting practice with great success. I soon learned that I was not a pitcher. I had only one pitch -- as fast and as hard as I could throw it. It didn't take even Little Leaguers to figure out what I was going to deliver. I was also a little wild.

Finally, I got my big chance to see what I could do in a game. I had begun the game playing my usual position at third base. It was the top half of the seventh inning, two out, and we were in the lead by four runs. Our starting pitcher had just walked the bases loaded. The coach came walking slowly out of the dugout. We all knew what that meant: Randy was done pitching for the day.

Taking the ball from Randy, coach signaled to me to come to the mound. My heart skipped a beat. I thought that he might just want to tell me where to play the next batter to protect against extra bases. As I walked over to the mound, he flipped the ball my direction.

"Well, Kid, it's your turn to show me your best stuff. Just pretend that you are pitching batting practice. Their next batter is their pitcher. Randy struck him out the last two times, but I think Randy is getting tired. You should have no trouble with him," coach said.

Naturally I didn't want to let him or my team down. I leaned over to get the first sign. I was not surprised to see the sign for a fast ball. I wound up and threw with all my might. The ball went sailing over my catcher's head all the way to the backstop. The runners moved up. That made the score closer but we still had the lead. The next pitch was in the dirt but the catcher was able to block it nicely.

I was really sweating now. I stepped off the mound, took a couple of deep breathes and tried to regain my composure.

I peered in to get the next sign. Surprise! The catcher was calling for a curve ball. Now, I had no idea how to throw a curve ball, so I reared back and threw as hard as I could. Needless to say, the catcher, expecting a curve, was caught off guard. The ball struck him in the chest protector and knocked him down. Fortunately, the ball stayed in front of him.

"STEEERIKE!" Yelled the umpire.

The count on the batter was now two balls and one strike. I was in deep trouble now. But, I still had first base open. I wasn't worried.

Again the catcher called for a curve ball. Again I just threw a fast ball. Again it hit him in the chest. This time it bounced away from him to his right. I scrambled off the mound and raced to the plate. The runner from third came barreling down on me just as the ball got to my glove. I spun around blindly to try to tag the runner as he collided into me. He knocked me down and the ball came loose.

"SAFE!" I heard the umpire exclaim.

That made the score 5 to 3 with us still in the lead. Two runners on base; second and third.

I really had to bear down this time. I glared at the catcher, as if to say, "I dare you to call for another curve." He got the message. He called for a fast ball. Relief flowed over me. I wound up and threw. The ball screamed into his mitt.

"STEERIKE!" called the umpire!

All Right! I thought. Now I have it made.

This time without the benefit of a sign, I went into my wind-up and the pitch. The ball flew straight and true, right into the back of the batter as he spun away trying to avoid being hit.

"Take your base," the umpire ordered.

The bases were now loaded again and the lead-off hitter coming to the plate. He wore a menacing look on his face. I just stared at him.

And the pitch. CRAACK! The ball flew off the bat into shallow left field for a single. The runners moved up one base, another run scored.

Number two hitter corning to the plate, with an evil gleam in his eyes. The wind-up and the pitch! CRAACK! Another single. Another run. Now the game was tied.

Nothing to do except really concentrate on the next batter. He was a big guy with a good strong swing. I knew that he had already gotten three hits in the game.

This was no cat and mouse game. I decided to ignore everything except the batter. I threw the first ball as hard as I could. It was right down the middle of the plate, waist high. He didn't even move his bat off his shoulder. I delivered the next pitch in the same spot. Again he didn't move but just stood there looking at me. The count was now no balls and two strikes.

"No problem," I thought.

I peered in at the batter. He was glaring back out at me. He dug in, waiting. Closing my eyes, I let loose of the ball in the general direction of the plate, hoping for the best.

WHOOSH!

I felt rather than heard the bat being swung with great power. I was afraid to open my eyes. I stained to hear the bat striking the ball.

"STRIKE THREE!" the umpire called.

What a relief! I had stuck him out and the game was still tied and we were coming to bat. It was the bottom of the sixth inning. In Little League Baseball, games only lasted six innings unless they went into extra innings. This game looked like it might go into extra innings. I was due to come up fifth, so it didn’t look like I would have a chance to bat; at least not in this inning.

Our first scheduled batter was a skinny, be-speckled little guy, who rarely swung at anything. If he ever did swing, it was at balls either way too high for him to hope to hit or ones that had already hit the dirt. His was a pretty certain out. The pitcher threw the first pitch. It was way outside for ball one! The next pitch was nearly in the same place, but Stewey swung at it anyway and, of course, missed. The third pitch was right down the middle, about waist high! Everyone yelled, “Swing! Stewey! Swing!” He did. And missed. Now the count was 1 ball and 2 strikes.

The pitcher stepped off the mound, mopped the sweat from his forehead with his hat and climbed back up onto the mound to get the sign from the catcher. I could see from where I was in the dugout the catcher wanted a fastball. Here it comes; the wind –up, the pitch, sure enough a fastball, straight at Stewey’s head! Stewey ducked but forgot to drop his bat. The ball hit the bat and trickled out in front of the plate. The catcher picked the ball up and easily threw Stewey out at first base. One out.

Our next batter our leadoff hitter was a good hitter and good bunter. Before Jimmy went up to the plate, the coach told him to bunt down the third base line because the third baseman was playing way back, protecting the line. Jimmy stepped up to the plate, squared to bunt the first pitch and bunted it foul. Strike one! Jimmy checked with the coach. The bunt sign was still on. The pitch was too high, so Jimmy took the pitch for a ball. Again, checking with the coach, Jimmy saw that the bunt sign was still on. He squared around to bunt. The pitch was perfect. He bunted it beautifully down the third base line and just stood there in the batter’s box admiring his handy work. The third baseman threw him out easily. Now we had two outs. And two more batters ahead of me.

The third batter of the inning; our last hope to end this game without going into extra innings, was hit by the first pitch and trotted down to first base. Maybe we had a chance after all. The next batter came up, swung and missed the first two pitches, then hit a line drive into right field for a single. Two on, two out, bottom of the sixth and it was my turn to bat!

The coach of the opposing team decided to make a pitching change just as I was striding to the plate with confidence that we now had this game in the bag! The coach called the guy who had been playing right field to take over the pitching duties. I recognized the guy! He was the guy I had the fight with earlier in the school year that caused me to have detention! I was even more determined to get a hit off this guy. After he warmed up the umpire yelled, “Batter Up!”

I sauntered to the plate, glared out at him daring him to remember me and throw me his best stuff. He peered in at me and I saw a gleam in his eyes that said he remembered. His first pitch to me removed all doubt I might have had. It was a blazing fastball aimed directly at my head. I ducked nimbly out of the way and glared back at him, shaking my bat, daring him to do it again. He did. I am really getting mad now. One more time I challenged him to throw at me, this time verbally. He did. Now, with the count 3 balls and 0 strikes, I thought I had him on the ropes. Boy!

Was I wrong! This next ball came screaming down the middle of the plate. I swung viciously at it and missed. The next one came in with the same results.

I choked up on the bat just a little bit, bared down in the batter’s box and waited for the next pitch. Again a fastball. I was a little slow on it and fouled it harmlessly into the first base side stands. The next pitch was a change-up, a brilliant pitch. I was ahead of it and fouled it off into third base side. I was determined to make this

pitch the last one. It came in. I could see it perfectly. It was over the plate, just slightly above waist high – exactly where I like them! I timed it perfectly, swung and CRAAAAACK!!!!! I could feel the bat hitting the ball and just knew that I had gotten it all. Looking up I watched the ball sailing toward the outfield, dead away center field. I thought it had the height, the distance, so I started trotting toward first base. Sure enough the ball cleared the fence by plenty of distance. We won the ball game!