Tonight was our first Sectional baseball game. We were playing Waterloo, a school about two hours southwest of us. They were also the Bulldogs. Unfortunately, that was all I knew about them.
At lunch, I was talking to Pam, Tracy, and Cassidy when Tim sat down next to me with a big grin on his face.
“Wolf is banned from Walmart,” he announced.
“Say what?” I asked, not believing my ears.
Other people were coming to join us for lunch, so I held up my hand to hold off Tim having to explain himself a hundred times. Wolf came in, and I made Yuri move so Wolf could sit across from me.
“Let’s hear it. How did you get banned from Walmart?” I asked, catching everyone’s attention.
Wolf shut his eyes. I was sure he was counting to ten before he killed Tim for ratting him out.
“It was all a misunderstanding and an accident. It’s no big deal,” Wolf deflected.
“I have video,” Tim said, bouncing up and down in his seat.
No one wanted to hear Wolf’s side of the story if we had video. It began by showing an aisle with toys, at the end of which was a massive display of multi-colored rubber balls about the size of a basketball. The balls were held in an eight-foot-high wire display bin that had a trough at the bottom where you could pull them out. It was about two-thirds full. The top was open so they could fill it from there.
“So, what’s the bet?” Wolf asked on the video.
“Five dollars says you can’t make it into the top of the basket from here,” Tim replied.
“That’s too easy,” Wolf said.
“Then make it,” Tim prodded.
“Okay.”
“Hang on, I want to get all this,” Tim said.
The camera jiggled as Tim moved back to the end of the aisle. Wolf launched the ball and turned towards Tim, with his back to the display, and with his hands up as if it were a sure thing. At the other end of the aisle, a large black woman stepped in front of the bin. She was there just in time for the ball to smack her on the side of the head. We watched in stunned silence as her front foot went up and she went down in a heap, like she’d slipped on a banana peel. The ball had knocked her wig off!
“Oh, shit!” Tim could be heard saying.
Wolf turned around and froze. The woman got up and came after Wolf with her oversized purse. You could hear Wolf apologizing as Tim cracked up. The older woman was beating the crap out of Wolf. Then he got smart and made a run for it. When the video ended, I looked at Tim.
“You have to send that to me. No one will believe me unless I show it to them.”
“Don’t you dare,” Wolf warned.
He heard my phone ding, and you could see his resignation. I was happy my mind was off other less-pleasant subjects.
◊◊◊
Because we were hosting the Sectionals, basically a tournament, there were four games today. We were scheduled to play in the last game. It was fun to see all the different fans excited about their team’s chances. I walked over to the hospitality tent to eat because I could smell charred meat from the moment I walked out of the Field House. When I poked my head in, I saw there were pork chops on the grill.
“David, come join us,” Mr. Sullivan said.
It looked like several of the boosters had taken a break and were eating. I sat down, and magically, a plate of chops, potato salad, and green beans appeared.
“We finally sold all our tickets and raffled off your car,” Mrs. Sullivan announced.
That meant they’d sold $100,000 in tickets.
“What are your plans for the funds?” I asked.
“We want to work on the baseball field, the wrestling team could use new mats, and the pool has to be drained and worked on. We want to kick off a new round of fundraising and use that money for other projects. Our goal is to have the best high school sports facilities in the state,” Mrs. Sullivan announced.
“When you get started, call Caryn. I’m sure I can help.”
“I’ll call her tomorrow,” Mrs. Sullivan said.
“Who won the car?” I asked.
“A teacher at Washington. It was funny to see a sixty-year-old sporting around in it.”
One of the games must have finished because there was suddenly a rush, and the boosters had to get back to work. That was when Jeff Delahey, my favorite reporter, sat down with a plate of pork chops.
“How come you’re not pitching today?” Jeff asked.
“To be honest, I never even thought of that. Bryan Callahan will start today.”
“I just figured that after your last outing, you’d pitch today.”
“No, I was lucky. I’m not really prepared to pitch.”
“Are you now the ‘Bad Boy’ of baseball?”
I gave him a funny look. Where was this coming from?
“It just seems you must be doing something to piss off the other teams. Why else would they be throwing at you? I mean, St. Joe decided to chuck their season in exchange for plunking you four times,” Jeff said.
“Five,” I corrected.
He raised his eyebrows. He was right; I’d been a cocky jerk. I had to remember there was a fine line between being confident and being an ass. Eastside, who we played before St. Joe, was a bunch of ass-hats. I didn’t really care what they thought.
