Junior Year Box Set полностью

“Welcome to my world,” I said with a half-smile.

“Did you want to go somewhere more private?”

“I’d like to hear your critique of that performance,” Michigan’s scout said.

The other scouts agreed, so I just smiled at Lucas. I quickly found out that Lucas saw everything. I wished I’d thought to record his advice, but Moose and Coach Haskins took copious notes. Lucas loved my aggression at bat and on the base paths. He warned me to slow down and take more pitches. He explained that I should get into the habit now, or else it would be hard to lay off pitches when I advanced to higher levels. Lucas said he had a rookie last year who had racked up a ton of strikeouts, and he wanted me to avoid that. In high school, if a pitch was in the zone, you could hit it. At higher levels, there were guys who could throw it by you or mess you up with speed or angle changes. I’d experienced that in LA, so I knew what he meant.

He also told me to stop trying to hit home runs. With my size and strength, they would come naturally. In high school, he wanted me to keep working to improve my swing. He liked the changes Moose had incorporated, but he had several minor adjustments he wanted me to work on.

Lucas warned me about losing focus when in the field. If it hadn’t been for my superior athletic ability, I would have allowed at least two hits. Baseball is a game where you sometimes might not see a ball hit to you for the whole game. With the circus-like atmosphere, it was easy to get distracted.

When he was done, he wished me the best. Moose handed me a Sharpie and pointed to the line of people near our dugout who wanted autographs. I thought I would never be done, but they finally were all signed.

◊◊◊

Moose and Coach Haskins walked me to the hospitality tent. Mrs. Sullivan had roped off an area for the team and their friends and families. Melinda had joined me, so I introduced her to all of the guys. The players from Lang Academy were in the tent, eating. Rita was there with Trip. The cheerleaders had all gone to a seven-on-seven tournament for the weekend, so Halle wasn’t around. I decided to play matchmaker. I grabbed Trip and took him to where Ray was seated with his teammates.

“Hey, Ray, I want you to meet someone,” I said, pulling him away from the group.

“Trip, this is a friend of mine who’s had some problems similar to those you’ve gone through. I was wondering if you could talk to him about what you’ve learned.”

I expected that if there were something there, they would figure it out.

Dad had gone to the new Mexican place’s booth and gotten me a burrito that was advertised to be as big as my head. Melinda took one look at it and raised her eyebrows.

“You plan to eat that whole thing?” she asked.

“He can eat more than that,” Yuri supplied.

I was able to eat two-thirds of it. It wasn’t a surprise when Johan finished it off—after he’d eaten his own.

◊◊◊

In the second game, Mike was pitching against Justin, and Wesleyan was up first. Mike batted third for Wesleyan. Justin hung a curveball, and Mike got all of it. I thought I had a shot at it but would have to get up to grab it before it left the park. I drifted back and timed it so I could use the fence to jump higher. Mike had done the bat flip, which pissed me off. I planted my left foot and used my right to propel myself up the face of the fence. Then I grabbed the top of it with my right hand to lever myself up even higher.

The crowd had erupted when Mike hit the ball, but the sound level dropped like they collectively held their breath as I climbed up to get it. If he’d hit it just a touch higher, I would never have reached it. When I came down, half the ball was hanging out of my glove. It seemed the crowd didn’t believe their eyes, because it took a second for them to erupt. I cringed when I realized the home-team fans had brought their damned cowbells.

I ran in and got ready to bat. When I stepped out of the dugout, my name was announced, and the music began. This time I stopped and took it in and watched the crowd. They were into it. With a full stadium, it was loud. They would stomp their feet for each syllable. I worried that the bleachers couldn’t handle it.

When I stepped into the box, it was clear Mike planned to throw at me. He had his cocky ‘FU’ smile. If I hadn’t bailed on motion, he would have smacked me good. It was a total dick move to throw your heat at someone’s head. That was how people got hurt. As it was, he clipped my forearm. I just got up and trotted to first base. I had to laugh when Mike threw his glove on the ground, ready to go.

Mike could never be accused of being dumb. He’d been in the top five in our class academically. I wanted to steal on him more than anything. I think Coach Haskins and Moose knew that as well. They signaled that I should stay at first. Mike made me eat dirt four times before going home with his first pitch. It was a good thing I didn’t go because he used his slide step to get the ball to the plate faster.