Sandy had also included a new batting helmet with a face guard similar to a football helmet. I wasn’t sold on it until she’d sent me a compilation video of batters getting hit in the face. It only took a couple of cringe-worthy hits to make me a believer. I showed it to Moose and Coach Haskins, and they asked if she could send more. My only complaint at first was it was a little distracting, but once I wore it a few days in batting practice, I was fine.
She had also sent me what she called a ‘batting sleeve,’ an elastic arm sleeve that covered you from wrist to bicep. It had hard plastic inserts to protect your forearm, elbow, and upper arm. When I had it all on, I felt like I was wearing my suit of armor. I worried at first that it would affect my swing, but it was surprisingly comfortable. I was ready for battle.
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Moose let us know it was the top of the seventh, and we needed to get to the field. We were in time to see the final out. If we won, we would play St. Joe on Saturday. I led us out onto the field to warm up.
Bryan Callahan was a little shaky in the first inning. He gave up a single to their leadoff man. Their next batter hit a long fly ball over my head that bounced off the fence. I played it off the wall and threw it to my cutoff man, Brock. The guy on first had to hold up in case I caught it, or he would have scored. Brock chased the batter back to first, so we had the bad guys on first and third. The next batter hit a grounder to Jim. Instead of taking the double play, he threw to home, and Johan tagged out the runner trying to put up the first score. That left runners on first and second. Another grounder and we turned the double play to get out of the inning.
What worried me was that every batter had hit the ball. It was essential that Bryan settle down, or they were going to put up big points for sure.
“Batting first for Lincoln High is … David Dawson!” was announced over the PA.
That was when my song started. Our fans were on their feet cheering and then began singing along with the intro to
Eastside’s pitcher was a tall kid who could really whip the ball. He threw the first two pitches low and away for balls. I made sure my back foot was dug in because this was a hitter’s pitch. I guessed right; he tried to get me to chase a high hard one, but I laid off. Now he had to either walk me or throw me a strike. He should have walked me. He tried to sneak a changeup over the plate, and his head snapped around to watch it leave the park.
That was when I had my ‘Ruh-roh’ Scooby-Doo moment. Whoever was running the PA embarrassed the pitcher. Brian Johnson’s voice rang out, declaring that the pitcher had been … well, you know—Thunderstruck.
Our crowd loved it. The Eastside pitcher’s neck and face turned red. As I ran around the bases, I held up my hands in apology. Moose was just as red-faced and sent Coach Herndon to track down whoever was running the sound for the game.
Luckily, Bryan settled down, and the Eastside pitcher was pitching lights-out. In the bottom of the third, it was still 1–0 when I came up to bat. Nick had had a good eye for the ball and drawn a walk. He’d taken second on a passed ball and then third on a groundout. There was one out, and I expected everyone assumed I would be left to swing away and hopefully put two runs on the board. This was where Coach Haskins’ experience came into play.
Nick was quick and seemed to know what he was doing on the base path. Coach Haskins called for the suicide squeeze bunt. That meant that on the motion to the plate by the pitcher, Nick would head for home. It was my job to bunt the ball into play. With the infield playing back, because of my power, it was a good call.
Well, it would have been, if the pitcher hadn’t decided to hit me. If it had been a normal situation, I would have turned away from the pitch, and the pitcher would have plunked me in the back or butt. Since I turned to bunt, the ball hit me in the front. In the nuts.
“Oh, shit!” their catcher exclaimed.
I collapsed more out of muscle memory than any real pain. With the cup and Range Sports’ new protective gear, I was fine. Did I know I’d been hit in the nuts? You bet! Anytime the twins are socked, even with a cup on, it stuns you.
I popped up, and their catcher must have thought I planned to charge the mound because he tried to tackle me.
“What the hell?!” I said.
“Stop! I said, STOP!” the umpire yelled.
The catcher had me wrapped up, and that was when I saw their pitcher charging in to hit me with a haymaker while I was being held. Screw that! I did the unexpected: I dropped straight down and basically did the splits. The pitcher hit his catcher square in the nose, which caused him to let go of me to grab his face, which was now a bloody mess. I did what Cassidy always threatened to do to me when she was in this position (thank God she never did): I punched the pitcher in the nuts.
