“I bet. It has to get old having a camera shoved in your face all the time during the football season. Today, I’m back to being a newspaper reporter covering the tournament. I hoped you would give me some sound bites so I can skip most of the baseball games and take my grandkids to the carnival,” Jeff said.
“You know most of my material. Just pick a few key phrases and recycle. Or I could tell you what a fine team Eastside is and, God willing, how we will prevail.”
“I’m good. Just don’t complain that I put words in your mouth when I write my article,” Jeff said. “On another note, tell me about your decision to attend Oklahoma over USC.”
“It was a closer call than you might expect. Both schools have a lot to offer, and I think we would have done well at either. It came down to early playing time for me. At Oklahoma, I should have a chance to compete as the starter my freshman year.”
“Isn’t that a lot to ask a true freshman to do, even with your obvious skills?” Jeff asked.
“It would be if I were enrolling in August. My advantage over a true freshman will be that I’ll get to both participate in spring ball and work out all summer with the team. I’ll also have Hayden Walsh on campus to learn from as he prepares for the NFL draft.”
“You expect he’ll leave early?”
“He was fifth in the Heisman voting last year with the numbers to back it up. I expect even more from him this coming year, and he might win that award this time. Only an injury would stop him from going pro.
“Even then, depending on the type of injury, I would expect he would enter the draft. The NFL is a quarterback’s league, and there are not enough players at Hayden’s level to go around. I guess that’s the long way of saying yes, Hayden will leave early,” I said.
“Do you still plan to play both football and baseball?” Jeff asked to stir the pot.
“I’m not shutting the door on that possibility. Heck, I might even jump to pro baseball right out of high school if the situation’s right. Coach Haskins put the word out that I wanted to explore that option. That’s why you’ve seen major league scouts at most of our games.”
“I think I have enough dirt to feed the masses,” he said, putting away the phone he’d been recording our conversation with. “I almost forgot. How badly are you going to beat Eastside, and will you win the tournament?”
“It might be a one-run game either way because I suspect we aren’t fully awake, with it being a Saturday morning and all. If we win this one, we’ll make it to the championship game. At that point, who knows because we’ll have played three games, and it will depend on our pitching. We’ve added some arms to the bullpen for this year, but it’ll come down to how well they hold up,” I shared.
“So, you’ll win the tournament?”
I smiled and nodded. We said our goodbyes, and I left to finish getting ready for the game.
◊◊◊
Moose was treating today’s game like the playoffs and sent our best pitcher, Justin, to the mound to face Eastside. Justin’s dream was to play professional baseball someday. So he was fired up when he saw scouts from both Chicago teams, St. Louis, Kansas City, and Milwaukee, standing along the sidelines. He struck out the first three batters he faced.
Eastside trotted out a young kid who had a quirky delivery that had our batters tied in knots. It wasn’t that he had great stuff; it was that he threw from all different angles. You didn’t know if he would be coming over the top, sidearm, or what. The key to hitting is picking the ball up early as it comes out of the pitcher’s hand. We weren’t doing a good job of that.
In the bottom half of the second, I came up to lead off. We’d all geared up in our new Range Sports protective gear. I’d done it because I anticipated being thrown at today. I admit that when he threw the first pitch sidearm, I leaned back to avoid getting drilled.
“Steerike One!”
He came over the top on the next pitch and threw a changeup that seemed to just float to the plate. It took all my willpower not to swing at his weak offering, but it was obviously high.
“Ball!”
He had me guessing for the several ensuing pitches as he changed location, pitch type, release points, and speed. If it hadn’t been for my quick hands, he would have struck me out, but I got enough to foul them off.
I was in my element as I battled this kid. He wasn’t messing around by trying to nibble the corners or be cautious. He came right at me as he threw strikes. If he had a little more zip on his pitches, he might be unhittable.
The guy threw me a fastball over the top, right down the center. This time, I got a little too excited as I tried to park it. I got all of it, but I hit a towering shot down the third base line. I took a little hop step towards first as I followed the flight of the ball. The third base umpire raced down the line because this was going to be close. I groaned when he signaled foul ball.
I smiled at the kid to let him know that I had him figured out. He impressed me when he simply nodded and got ready to throw the next pitch.
