Chapter 5

Sunday

I was up early the next morning with a good idea in mind and texted Franco. He readily agreed and fired back a time window of availability and I already knew the place and it was game-on. I started cooking and the smell of bacon brought two teens out for breakfast. Kayla mumbled something about coffee and I popped a container in the espresso machine, put some cream in the frother and when Tiffany heard the sound of that, she waved frantically for a portion.

“What time do you need to hit the road today,” I asked.

“Noon. We could leave later but it’s probably best if we got back before dinner,” Kayla mumbled and Tiffany agreed.

“Perfect. Tiffany, do you think you could strike me out?” Talk about a question out of left field.

That got her attention.

“Softball. Do you mean could I strike you out pitching?” A smile grew on her face and she was suddenly completely awake. Kayla looked at me like I had asparagus growing out of my nose.

“There’s a field two minutes from here and I have a friend with gear, bats, balls, gloves, the works. Do you want to try? Because I don’t think you can.” I had absolutely no doubt she could but a challenge is more fun.

Fifteen minutes later, we met Franco at the recreation field on 27th and predictably, it was deserted. Franco was waiting with a sizable grin on his face. I introduced them around and they all wanted to know about Franco.

“Franco used to pitch but it’s been a while, right Franco?”

“Ten years since I’ve pitched in a league. Couldn’t bring myself to get rid of my gear. In the old man rec leagues, if you pitch, you catch, so I’ve got the gear for that. What do you throw,” He asked Tiffany.

“Fastball, changeup, sinker and on a good day, a rise-ball but it’s pretty unpredictable. My curve is fair. Mostly fastball, changeup and sinker. Those are probably 90% of my pitches.”

“Perfect. Let’s warm up.” He pulled on his chest protector, looked at me swinging a bat wildly, intentionally wildly, and very deliberately pulled on his mask.

Kayla and I gave them some room and loosened up. I poked through Franco’s bats and picked out a thirty-four and then put it back for a thirty-two. From the sound of the ball hitting Franco’s glove, she was bringing the heat. I had serious doubts if I could get the bat around in time. I looked to see if he had anything lighter in his bag.

“Can you hit her,” I asked Kayla.

“Of course. Homerun every time.”

“Bullshit.”

“Yeah. I’m lucky to get a foul tip most of the time. She’s really good. Definitely college level.”

“So, you figure I’m sunk?”

“It’s Sunday. Maybe you could pray.”

That was enough of that. Franco had brought a bucket of balls and I walked them out to the circle so Tiffany would have plenty of extras when I started hitting them over the trees past center field. At least that’s the image I wanted her to have.

I told Kayla to take a glove and head for deep center field. She smirked and trotted out. I watched as she found a spot in shallow center and took a seat. Nice.

“You warmed up,” I asked and Tiffany nodded with a serious game face.

“What do you think Franco, should I bat right or left-handed?” I probably couldn’t hit a T-ball left-handed on a good day and Franco laughed.

I took a couple of swings and nodded to Tiffany.

She bent low at the waist looking hard at Franco’s glove. She popped back up and her right arm immediately began to windmill, whipping her first pitch past me at a ridiculous speed. I watched it go by and heard the satisfying thwack as it slammed into Franco’s mitt. This is not going to be pretty, I thought.

“That’s one,” Franco announced casually, throwing the ball back to Tiffany.

She caught it and walked back to the rubber. Again, she bent low, stared at the glove, popped up and threw a sinker. I took a swing. If I’d hit it, the ball would have exploded so it’s a good thing I missed. I’d missed by about a foot.

“That’s two,” Franco announced loudly, and then quietly, “The kid’s got some good stuff. Her fastball is probably close to seventy and that sinker broke about a foot in front of the plate. You don’t have a chance, my friend.”

“Thanks Franco.” I looked out to Kayla who was still seated and had her phone out. Whose idea was this?

She came back with a fastball and this time I caught a piece of it, fouling it to the backstop. She pulled another ball out of the bucket. One ball and two strikes. She brushed me back at the knees and I gave her an evil look. Her face didn’t change. Two and two. All business.

She gave Franco a look, wound up and let fly. I knew she’d bring this over the plate and I swung for the fences. I swung long before the ball got to the plate. Her changeup was wicked. Well disguised.

“You’re out,” Franco said. “Next batter.”

I stepped out of the box and smiled. Took a couple more practice swings and was ready to go again. I’d seen her fastball a couple of times, changeup once and sinker once. The problem was, she disguised each so well I was just guessing when I swung. She had to pitch fastballs to set up the changeup. The only thing I could think to battle the sinker was to move forward in the box, perhaps connecting with it before it broke completely. It wasn’t much but it was better than nothing. I stepped into the box, crowding the plate a little and as far forward as I could.

She wind-milled another fastball into Franco’s glove and I swung late. Her next pitch was a curve that broke outside and I checked my swing again. I was feeling pretty good about when to hold my swing. At least until I realized how pathetic that sounded. I swung at a sinker and a changeup and I’d struck out twice.

I felt like I was getting closer. I also felt like I had to hit something, even if it was just another foul. Franco was having too much fun watching me flail. I stepped back into the box.

Her first pitch was a fastball on the outside corner which I took for a strike. So much for my eagle eye. Her next pitch was a changeup that I whiffed. She’d be coming back with a fastball. I was sure of it. She brought it, I connected and sent it straight at where the second baseman would have caught it had she been there. Kayla, yawned and walked over to get the ball.

“One on and two out,” Franco announced.

And that was the end of my glory. She took it up a notch and I whiffed at two fastballs right down the middle and a third time at a nasty sinker. Three outs. Intellectually, it’s pretty much what I expected but it felt worse. I wanted another shot.

I walked around outside the box, stretching and thinking. After a bit, I thought I had it and walked back to the batter’s box.

She wound up and delivered. I swung and hit it solidly to right field. I was trying to pull the ball but her fastball made that difficult. She smiled at my hit. Had she given me something? I didn’t think so. Her first pitch was a fastball and I was counting on that. I would be stepping back into the box as a new batter. Fastball again?

I watched her bend low and realized she dipped her head a little. Sinker. I connected again, this time sending it to left field. Two hits in a row.

“Two men on and no outs. You figure something out,” Franco asked.

“I think so. I think she’s going to pitch me outside at least once, maybe twice now,” I answered and was spot on. She threw two fastballs in a row, both just outside the box and low. She didn’t like getting hit.

“I feel a changeup coming,” I said and proceeded to swing so late on her fastball that I laughed.

“That was her fastest pitch yet, my friend. She didn’t like you hitting her.” No kidding.

She threw two more fastballs, I swung twice more and missed badly each time. She had gone to her strength. I took a walk and came back into the box with one out and two men on.

Her first pitch was down the pipe and smoking hot. I didn’t even try to swing. She had definitely upped her game. She had upped it so much that I didn’t even touch the ball for the next five pitches. Side retired. I figured it was best to quit while I still had a little dignity. I offered the bat to Franco.

“Care to try?”

“Nope. I see what she’s throwing and you got lucky a couple of times. I look foolish enough without flailing at the heat she’s bringing. Stay put.”

He jogged out to the mound for a powwow with Tiffany. They talked for a bit and Franco was definitely giving her tips she didn’t need. Kayla made the circuit, picking up my lucky hits and bringing them back to the circle. She dropped the balls in the pail and walked to me.

“If she doesn’t want you to hit her, you’re probably not going to.”

“I gathered that when she cranked it up. I can see why recruiters are offering her scholarships. Any idea where she’s going to go?”

“Nah. She doesn’t know either. Anyone would be glad to have her but she doesn’t know what she wants to major in. There’s not exactly a bright future for professional softball players so you take the scholarship to get your degree paid for. When she figures that out, she’ll sign.”

“Any ideas? I mean, does she at least have it narrowed down?”

“Shit, Danny. You heard her story. If she couldn’t shut all that out to pitch, she wouldn’t have any peace.”

“You want to go to Duke, right? Because of their medical school. It’s close and they have great academics. Why not there?”

“It makes sense to me. But she’s going a year before me and that might make a big difference. And what if she decides she wants to be a veterinarian, do they have that? I don’t know, maybe they do. She told me what you two talked about, by the way. That means a lot.”

“So far, it’s just talk. We’ll see if it comes to anything.”

Franco had finished talking and was ready to catch for another inning. He told me to turn around while she threw a half dozen practice pitches. Satisfied, he called for me to step into the box.

“One more inning,” he said. “She wants to try something and that’s all the time they have anyway.”

“One more inning.”

I stepped into the box, not feeling particularly optimistic. Franco had given her a pointer or two and he’d spotted her sinker tell so she wouldn’t give away that pitch.

For the next three outs, she threw nothing but curveballs, sinkers and changeups. Not a single fastball. Rather than let her pitch what she wanted; Franco was now signaling the pitches. He mixed them up in an order I couldn’t guess. It seemed like she threw her sinker a little higher; more enticing. Her pitches were slightly better disguised and I found myself practically focusing on her glove instead. It was always in the same spot, or at least too close for me to tell. And she had a different pitch and it threw me for a loop. With a little coaching, Franco had taught her what she needed to do to throw a slider, breaking away from me and out of reach.

She struck me out three straight times without throwing a single fastball, although her curveball wasn’t slow. The disguise was just a little better, the mix was better and that slider was enough to really mess with me. I was done. Kayla threw a ball in to Franco. A solid throw from deep right field, nearly on the money.

“Your cousin has got quite an arm on her,” he said.

“I’m not surprised.”

“Is that the first time you’ve tried to hit her pitching?”

“Yes. But my cousin is Kayla, shagging balls. Tiffany is her friend. That’s who has been pitching.”

“Ah. Wait.” He looked up at Kayla, jogging over to left field to grab another ball. “Kayla is your cousin?”