“No. I was just reading your text.”
“About that … Our first game is tomorrow. Usually, I would pitch Brock or Bryan. My other choices are Bert or a couple of freshmen. Bert told me at practice he has some pain in his shoulder,” Moose told me.
Frick! Justin and his big mouth had really put us in a spot. I thought both freshman pitchers would be good in a year or so, but to start a Regional Playoff game was just too much to ask. The thing was, we needed Bryan and Brock if we got past this game. Moose had a firm rule that a pitcher had to have at least four days’ rest. If this were college or the pros, you wouldn’t hesitate to throw them out there on short rest.
“What do you plan to do?” I asked.
“I was thinking about starting you.”
“But I haven’t even thrown batting practice.”
“I know that, but I keep coming back to you’re our best athlete. I know you can pitch; you did it your freshman and sophomore years. Forget the stuff Shiggy taught you and just throw the heat and changeup to give them a variety. Lakeview won’t know what to do with you. If you can give me a couple or three innings, the freshmen can finish it off. I just can’t throw them out there to start,” he admitted.
“If you think I can do it, I’ll give it my best shot.”
“I know you will. Now get some sleep,” Moose ordered.
Before turning out the light, I logged on and tweeted that I was pitching tomorrow, figuring it would give everyone a laugh and help loosen them up for the game.
◊◊◊ Tuesday April 26
They say the road to Hell is paved with good intentions. Announcing I was pitching on social media was probably the worst idea I’d ever had. Tonight’s game was supposed to be a playoff game that featured two high school teams in the first round. Yes, it was a big deal for us, because if we won, we moved on. It was even a big deal for our schools and communities. It wasn’t supposed to be a big deal nationally.
By noon, our high school had been contacted by numerous news organizations to receive access to both the game and me. Moose was about to pull out what was left of his hair. The school had also been told that twelve major league teams were sending scouts; representatives from Under-18 USA Baseball would be here; and at last count, 42 college recruiters from across the country would attend.
Caryn had notified Frank, and he was on the first flight he could get out of LA. His take was this was somewhat like when
Coach Hope grabbed me during last period and escorted me to the coaches’ conference room. When I saw two State Police officers standing at the door, I knew who was inside.
I walked into a full room. Governor Higgins stood up, smiled, and shook his head.
“You are a dream come true for my political career.”
“As long as it’s all about you,” I shot back.
Vice Principal Palm and Mr. Hicks, our Athletic Director, both about fainted when they heard me talking like that to the governor of our great state.
I looked around the room, and I guess Moose caught on that I wasn’t sure why this was such a big deal.
“You look confused.”
“Why is everyone making such a fuss about me pitching?” I asked.
“That’s probably my fault,” Coach Haskins said with a weak smile.
“How could that be your fault?” I asked.
“I received a call from one of the baseball writers I used to be friendly with. He just wanted a comment on you hitting the mound for the first time this year. I might have oversold your abilities.”
I suddenly had a bad feeling.
“What did you say?” I asked.
“He said that you’d been asked to make a position change to the outfield so you could represent the USA on their Under-18 national team,” Governor Higgins said. “He added that it was a shame because he thought you were a better pitching prospect than an outfielder.”
“So, I’m about to go out there and pitch for the first time this season and make a complete fool of myself,” I moaned.
“You are such a wuss sometimes,” Coach Hope said. “I’ve seen you throw a football and a baseball. How can you be so confident on a football field and not translate that to baseball?”
I took a deep breath. Sure, I knew for a fact that confidence was one of the biggest reasons I dominated on a football field. Closing my eyes, I took another deep cleansing breath, let it out slowly, and then did it again for good measure. I worked to find my center, my focus, and felt the tension start to leave my body.
“Okay. I have to go get ready,” I said, and strode out of the room.
“He’s going to surprise a lot of people. Many of them are here to see him fail. They’ll be going home disappointed,” Moose said as I walked out.
After leaving the coaches’ conference room, I walked to the locker room and got dressed for the game. I put in my earbuds, put on some rock music to help psych me up, closed my eyes, and just zoned out. I had this.
◊◊◊
Suddenly, I felt a hand on my shoulder. I opened my eyes and saw it was Moose.
