Chapter 14 #2
True to his word, the coach puts him in at the start of the next inning. He gets himself into a bit of trouble by the fourth batter, but our team turns a double play and we get out with no runs scored.
By the bottom of the eighth inning, our team leads by one.
“Tuck, time to warm up. You’re going in next.”
I walk up to the bullpen’s mound and toss some balls to our backup catcher. I increase my intensity with each pitch.
“How’s the shoulder?”
“It’s good.”
I throw the next pitch a little harder and roll my shoulders back. A little tickle, but nothing like before.
“Are you ready, Tuck?”
“Yeah, I’m ready.”
“Then go get’em.”
I step onto the field, and the lights go out in the stadium, covering all of us in darkness for a few seconds.
Then, the high-pitch guitar strings of my walk out song echo in the distance, and flashes of strobe lights spear through the blackness.
My heart races and I take a deep breath to calm myself, but adrenaline pumps through my body, shooting through my veins like a natural high.
Three quick breaths and my muscles relax, and I breathe a little easier.
As I approach the pitching mound the stadium lights shine brighter than before, or at least it feels like that to me.
I adjust my baseball cap over my eyes and look across the infield toward the catcher.
He signals for a fastball. Sounds good to me.
I take one more deep breath, raise my leg and throw a practice pitch to Scotty.
He moves his glove a little to the right to make the catch.
It’s not exactly where I wanted it, but I didn’t miss it by much.
I wait for Scotty’s next call, but I want to throw the fastball again.
Fortunately, he’s thinking the same thing and gives me the fastball sign.
I adjust my grip on the ball and let it rip through my fingers.
This time Scotty’s glove glides to the strike zone.
Yes! That’s it. I exhale sharply and roll my shoulders back.
Scotty calls a curve ball and a slider next.
Both hit their targets and I motion to the umpire that I’m ready to go.
The ump signals to the batter, and he steps up to the plate.
I’ve faced this batter several times before, but that doesn’t make this any easier.
All ball players in the MLB are here because they’re great players.
If my target slips, any one of them is trained and ready to take this ball out of the park.
So, I don’t let my guard down, not even for the ninth batter.
But Hernandez isn’t the ninth batter, he’s fifth in the lineup and traditionally that means he’s a great hitter.
He’s looking for the first-pitch fastball.
Hitters love that pitch. Of course, I’m not going to give it to him, so I go in with a cutter.
It’s a new pitch for me, and one Hernandez wasn’t ready for.
“Strike one!” the umpire calls from behind the plate.
The batter looks at the ump for clarification, but he simply adjusts his masks and leans forward into position, ready for the next pitch.
Scotty nods his head and throws the ball back to me.
I twirl it through my fingers and wait for Scotty’s call.
A curveball. I’m familiar with this sequence, it's one we’ve practiced.
The curveball is a slower pitch and sets up my fastball nicely.
After a low-speed pitch, the fastball looks even faster to the hitter, and it throws their timing off.
After getting the strike call on the curveball, I place my fingers for a four-seam fastball and throw it hard.
“Strike three. You’re out!”
Scotty punches his glove and the manager Gainsboro relaxes his shoulders in the dugout.
He’s standing next to Neuman. I know one look of agony on my face or even one wild pitch, and they’re pulling me out of the game.
I won’t let that happen. I’ve worked too hard to get to this point. This is gonna be my year.
The next batter comes to the plate. He’s the sixth batter and I’ve only ever faced him once before. He’s new to the league but a rising star. Scotty snaps up from his squat and jogs toward the mound.
“Looking good, Tuck,” he says when he reaches me.
“Thanks. What’s up?”
“I know we don’t usually go with the fastball on this one, but I think we should. He’s been hitting well, but he hasn’t faced you much, so he isn’t comfortable with your speed.”
I shake my head. “No. Let’s stick with the original plan. Let’s start with the cutter.”
He pauses with his hands on his hips. His gaze travels to the dugout behind me, but I don’t look back. That would be a sign of uncertainty. I know my pitches and I’m sticking to the plan.
“Fine. Let’s do it your way.”
I nod and he walks back to the plate and squats into position. I throw the cutter.
“Strike one!”
I position my fingers for the curveball and throw it with as much finesse as possibly can.
The rookie makes contact; it’s a hard hit ball down the middle but our shortstop makes a diving catch, quickly recovers, and throws the man out at first.
The crowd goes crazy and I tip my hat off to him. Great play.
Walker comes up to the plate next, and I’ve faced him many times. We used to play ball together in college. When it comes to these sorts of match ups, it’s usually the hitter that has the advantage, but not today.
I roll my shoulders back. The tiny twinge is there, but it’s under control. At least for now. I feel good. No, I feel great. I don’t care what Walker’s numbers are against me, he’s going down today.
Come on, Walker. Give me your best shot.
Walker lifts his bat and waits for my pitch. He stares at me with an intensity in his eyes that is all too familiar. He wants this to go very differently than I do, but only one of us can win the match-up.
When Scotty signals for the curveball, I shake him off.
He calls for the slider next, but I shake that off, too.
After some hesitation, he sends me the fastball sign and I nod slowly.
That’s the pitch I want. I know I can blow it past Walker.
I always have. He loves a fastball and won’t lay off of it.
I just have to make sure it’s a little too high for him to hit.
I raise my leg and deliver the pitch.
Crack!
Walker hits the ball and starts running. But I can’t turn around, something hurts so badly. It’s my head.
It all happens so quickly.
I fall to the ground hard, and in a stadium filled with forty thousand fans, I don’t hear a sound.
Then, everything goes dark.