“They’re all nervous about today. Tami asked that you not be there,” Brook enlightened me.
I threw her a face. I really didn’t want anything to do with this. Cindy worried me; I wasn’t sure my friends were ready for her. Tim might have a stroke, and Wolf might never talk to me again. Then again, what did I know?
I had to admit my times with Cindy and Suzanne had been fun, back in the day. But I didn’t really understand some of the stuff Cindy was into these days. Still, I shouldn’t judge. What she did with Brook and Halle might be okay if I were actually allowed to participate.
I had a feeling that Ashley and Scarlet might be into that and more, based on our time in Alabama. That might be something I should have a long talk with my uncle about. For some reason, I suspected he might know about it.
And to be completely honest, I did like to dominate girls in bed. What I couldn’t wrap my head around was being tied up, like Scarlet had been. It would freak me out to lose that much control.
My first time with Scarlet and Ashley was right up there with Rita needing to be spanked to release her inner demons, and Lexi getting off on being overwhelmed. Those were other proclivities I was having difficulty wrapping my head around.
While I saw that accommodating Rita’s need for release helped, it went against my upbringing. You didn’t hit girls unless they tried to kick you in the nuts. Then all bets were off.
“I didn’t plan to be,” I said and then looked at her. “Are you going?”
“Would that be a problem?” she asked.
I thought about that for a moment.
“If you want to go, then go.”
“Can we practice stuff I learn?” she asked in a sexy voice.
I barked out a laugh.
“Hotness, anytime, anyplace,” I said as I waggled my eyebrows.
◊◊◊
I had Manaia take me to a batting cage. I wanted to knock some rust off and hit a few balls because, after next week, I would start training for baseball season. He found a place called The Hitting Zone that wasn’t too far away. They rented batting cages and pitching lanes.
We were greeted by a young lady at the front desk.
“Welcome. How can we help you?” she asked.
“I want to get in some hitting if I can.”
“No problem. Let me get you set up,” she said.
When we walked into the back, I saw what I assumed was a high school team working out. I found my cage, mentally ran through the steps I’d been taught, and began to hit. Man, I was terrible for the first half-hour. I took a deep breath because I knew exactly what I was doing wrong—basically, everything.
While I took a break and focused, I watched the other hitters and saw I was doing what they were. Chiefly, I was lunging instead of trusting my swing. It was probably the most common mistake that baseball players make at all levels. Your body instinctively tries to adjust your swing to hit the ball, and you end up in a poor hitting position.
I stepped back into the batter’s box and began to tag the ball. Like with pitching, you can hear the difference when you do it right. In pitching, the sound of the ball hitting the catcher’s glove is distinctive. When hitting with an aluminum bat, it made a ‘crack’ sound instead of a ‘ting’ when solid contact was made.
All through the facility, you heard ‘ting.’ When I started to hit with authority, I got noticed by the kids practicing. They began to wander over between turns in the cage.
When my hour was up, I took a break before buying tokens for another hour. Manaia pulled me aside.
“I thought you just played football.”
“Well, I play some baseball, too.”
I pulled out my phone and showed him an Internet story about me winning the MVP trophy for Team USA. Someone must have recognized me because one of the staff approached me.
He turned out to be Fred Condit, a former big-league player. He’d played for the Pirates and Giants before retiring a couple of years ago. Fred was the big brother of Frank Condit, who was the National League MVP two years ago. Fred was part-owner and lead batting instructor for The Hitting Zone.
“One of the kids told me we had a VIP in the house. Do you plan to do any more hitting today?”
“I’m thinking of going for another hour or so. Why?”
“If you’d allow me to bring the kids over to watch you bat and coach them, I’ll let you hit for free today.”
Manaia snorted his derision because an hour in the cage was very affordable. I almost said ‘no’ so I could have my privacy. But I relented when I saw the kids looking over expectantly. If I could concentrate with them watching, I would be good to go during a game.
“Okay. Let me grab a snack and rehydrate, and I’ll be back in a few minutes.”
I came back, got settled in, and started the machine. While live pitching was superior to using a pitching machine, the machine was a very useful tool. With the pitching machine, you could get a lot more swings in per session. Building muscle memory by doing something over and over again was essential to success in this type of physical endeavor. The goal was to not have to think about your swing.
