Chapter 11: Top 40

Wednesday June 22

Today we had our only night game, against Pony. Tomorrow it would be a doubleheader day with the Nationals and Team Dixie. On Friday, the top two teams would play a championship game, and then the forty-man roster would be announced.

Our pitching staff needed the rest. If it hadn’t been for Kale stepping in yesterday, their arms would have been doubly tired. No pitcher is used to going on short notice, but that was what would happen for our next four games. Yes, it looked like we would be in the championship game, so we needed to plan accordingly.

To that end, Coach Kingwood wanted to talk to me.

“We’re going to have you start tonight. I want to save our arms for Thursday and Friday. Are you up for that?” he asked.

“Whatever you need, Coach. I might want to work a little bit this morning and get my curve and slider working,” I admitted.

“You think that’ll be a problem?”

“Not really. I just haven’t pitched much, and my mechanics are off. I think I just need to throw a few and it’ll come back,” I said and hoped it would happen.

I was sent to work with Coach Mallei to fix my pitches.

“Let me see how you’re gripping the ball. The curve relies on two things, the grip and your wrist motion,” Coach Mallei reminded me.

I showed him my middle finger was on the laces, or seam, of the ball with my index finger next to it.

“Have you ever tried to throw a spiked curveball?”

“I’ve never even heard of that type of curve. What makes it different?” I asked.

“The middle finger is straight along the outer seam of the ball and the index finger is tucked underneath. It’s similar to a knuckleball grip,” he said to demonstrate.

I tried it and it felt a little weird.

“When I was pitching, I had better success by sticking my fingernail directly into the seam. It helped hold my index finger in place and accelerate the spin of the ball. This creates a hard, biting pitch that ‘spikes’ downward,” Coach Mallei explained, and then threw one so I could see it.

It actually bounced off the plate. I guess that’s where they got the ‘spike’ name. It looked like a volleyball player was smashing it down. This had much more movement than my curve ever had. I liked what I saw.

“The other difference from a regular curveball is hand position at release,” Coach explained. “Instead of snapping your wrist clockwise at the release, your hand stays up and behind the baseball. Without the hand turn, the pitch is even more difficult to pick up. Most hitters are unable to tell the difference between this pitch and a fastball. It takes them longer to recognize the difference, which makes it almost impossible to adjust to hit the ball.”

I fell in love with the spiked curveball. It broke much harder than my split-finger fastball. The only person not happy was Trent because no catcher wants to field pitches that bounce off the plate.

I never got a chance to work on my slider, but figured with a fastball, changeup and my new spike curveball, I had enough variety for tonight’s game.

When we finally stopped for lunch, we found my mom and Melissa putting out food on our tables. The man from USA Baseball was checking out the lunch the caterer had provided and comparing it to what we had. They both had salad, but ours didn’t have half the lettuce with brown spots. The caterer had also provided a make-your-own-sandwich setup with a variety of lunch meats and cheeses that didn’t look bad.

Melissa told us the menu for today.

“We’ve made two salads, one with grilled chicken and the other a tomato and mozzarella. We also have a variety of sandwich wraps. I personally like the roast beef with horseradish. There’s also pasta with turkey meatballs, and finally a fresh fruit salad.”

The man from USA Baseball asked to take a little of each from what the moms made and then got a plate of the catered food. He took it with him to show the other USA Baseball staff.

Everyone on Team Pride was happy with what we were eating.

At the afternoon practice, they parked me on the mound and had me practice my pickoff move to hold runners at first. About all Coach Mallei would say was I should concentrate on striking them out.

When I was done, Trent, Joe and Mitch wanted to talk to me.

“We heard what you said to Dave. He seems to at least be trying,” Mitch said.

“He was starting to be really irritating. I take that back. He was a pain in the butt from day one. If he hadn’t been on our team, I wouldn’t have had anything to do with him,” Joe admitted.

“We just wanted to thank you for talking to him. We also wanted to thank you for telling us what the coaches are looking for. I know they’ve made a few comments, but I personally didn’t realize it was such a big deal,” Trent said.

“We all like the idea of winning the tournament and all being picked for the top forty. Do you think it might happen?” Joe asked hopefully.

I could see they were all waiting for my answer. The truth was it would be hard to pull something like that off. Each team had standout players that probably could have displaced some of our players just on talent alone. What set us apart was we had jelled as a team, not a group of all-stars.

“Coach Kingwood said they were looking for players that fit in. There might be better players on other teams, but we came together as a group quicker. If everyone gets with the program and focuses on winning, and not on personal glory, I think we have a shot.”

I could see them all thinking.

“I’m in,” Joe said with a look of determination.

“Yeah, I thought you were just grandstanding the first day to put Dave in his place for being self-centered. I believe you now,” Trent said.

I looked at Mitch and he nodded.

“I want you all to go talk to the other guys. Tonight, we make a commitment to win and get everyone to the next level,” I said, and sent them off with their marching orders.

I noticed Bob out of the corner of my eye.

“Come here,” I told him.

He looked like he thought he was in trouble. I smiled to reassure him.

“Do me a favor. If I tell you not to share something, it stays between us.”

“I can do that,” he said, relieved I wasn’t mad.

“Do you think the team could swim at your neighborhood pool this afternoon?” I asked.

“I don’t know. Let me go ask my mom,” he said and ran off to find out.

Well, we were asked, very politely and diffidently, to never come back to the pool. I should have known that if I invited thirteen baseball players, my family with Peggy and Pam, Dave’s sister and girlfriend, Bob’s friends, plus almost all the kids in the subdivision ... it might create a little chaos.

No one was really a problem, and amazingly no one got hurt. It was just that you could hear the noise ‘from several blocks away,’ or so we were told.

Moose stopped by before our game with Pony to give us the report my coaches had gathered.

“On paper, Pony is the best team here. The problem is they have too many chiefs or wannabe chiefs and no Indians. It would be amusing to let David loose on their team. I can just imagine the fireworks,” Moose said with a chuckle.

“Hey, I’m not that bad,” I complained.

Moose just shook his head and continued. Even I knew what would happen. It wouldn’t be pretty.

“They’ve managed to win two games on talent alone, but in their last game, they were so busy sniping at each other that they lost it badly. They’ve lost focus and it’s starting to show up in their play. I’d be surprised if they win a game the rest of the way,” Moose said, then turned to me. “That doesn’t mean they’ll be an easy win.”

I understood what he was saying. One of the biggest mistakes you could make was to assume you would win. He didn’t have to worry about that. I wasn’t confident in my pitching. It would have been different if I’d pitched more during the season.

Tonight’s game was going to be hot and muggy. It almost felt like I was back in Cuba. The only good thing about the heat was that it would help keep me loose.

It looked like we might also have our first sellout tonight. The stadium had a unique feature. Outside the left field area, they’d built the ground up so it was even with the top of the fence. The berm sloped up slightly so fans could sit on blankets in the grass and watch the game, almost as if they were picnicking. The berm was rated for 250 fans and looked to be full. The stadium itself held 1,800 people. When we took the field at the top of the first, they made their presence known.

As I warmed up, I practiced my changeup to get the feel of the pitch. I’d planned on throwing all my pitches but needed to get my off-speed pitch working for strikes or it would be a long night. I didn’t think too much about it until the first batter came up and had a big grin on his face. I think he thought this was going to be like batting practice.

I figured, why not give him what he expected? But I would throw it high, and out of the strike zone, to see if he’d chase it. He did and hit the ball high and long. For a moment, I was worried that I’d made a big mistake, but Daz, who’d taken my spot in center field, didn’t even have to move. He just camped out and waited for it to fall to earth for the first out.

I did the same with their second batter and so did he, but this time it went to right field where Nick made the out.

I had a bad feeling when the next boy came to the plate. He was big and looked strong. I was afraid he might be able to power the ball out of the park, even if it went as high as it went long. I was glad when Trent was of the same mind and called for the fastball. I gave a little inner chuckle when he wanted it in the same location. I reared back and used my full six feet four inches of height to act as a whip to send a blistering rocket towards home.

I’ll give the batter credit. He began his swing but held up when the ball blew by him. The umpire called a ball, but Trent asked for an appeal by the first base umpire who called it a strike because he had put the head of the bat over the plate.

“You’ve got to be kidding me!” the batter screamed and slammed his bat onto the ground.

The home plate umpire didn’t hesitate.

“You’re done for the day, son.”

Even I was shocked at the quick hook. Their manager came out of the dugout, and I was even more surprised when he didn’t challenge the umpire but grabbed his player and marched him to the dugout. Later, Bob told me that he’d overheard that Team Pony had been warned yesterday that they needed to stop their outbursts. This seemed to be a carryover from that.

They’d made our team rosters small for a reason. They wanted to see everyone play, and you couldn’t evaluate a player if he never made it onto the field. That meant that our pitchers had to fill in if someone was either injured or, in this case, kicked out of the game. On our team that wasn’t really a problem because we had Daz and Austin, each of whom was an everyday player in addition to being a pitcher back home.

For Pony, this was more of a problem. They had to insert a pitcher who didn’t have a good bat, putting a hole right in the middle of the top of their order. Normally a team relies on its third batter to help move the first and second batters around the bases with his bat. I threw two fastballs that were outside, and the replacement swung at both of them for an easy out.

After the first inning, I was feeling good about getting out of it having only needed to throw six pitches.

Joe was up first and their pitcher walked him on five pitches. Their pitcher took a moment to calm himself and made quick work of Mitch, getting him to swing at three straight offerings. Dave hit a shot down the third base line, but their third baseman made a spectacular play across the infield to throw Dave out at first. Joe was at second when I came up with two outs.

I took a moment to focus and remember each step I needed to do. The first two pitches were low and outside for balls. The third one was in the dirt and scooted loose from the catcher. I frantically waved Joe to take third. Their manager signaled to walk me at that point to take the bat out of my hands.

I trotted down to first and checked the signs; I was told not to run. I think they wanted to see if this kid would walk Nick or not. It looked like he might when he threw two balls that weren’t even close. Nick had been signaled to take the next pitch to force their pitcher to throw a strike. Nick was sick when it was a fastball right down the gut.

On the next pitch, we were signaled to do the hit and run. I don’t think anyone thought we would try something like that this early in the game. You normally didn’t want to potentially take the bat out of the hands of a hitter of Nick’s caliber with a runner at third. The pitcher looked over at me and then at the plate. During that moment, I edged away from the bag another half step to give me every advantage I could get. He lifted his foot to go home and I exploded to second. I didn’t hear the crack of a bat, so I slid hard into second. The umpire called me safe.

Unfortunately, Nick struck out on the next pitch to end the inning.

For the next few innings, it was much the same. They were easy outs and we struggled, leaving base runners in scoring position. This had carried over from that last game. Sometimes you just couldn’t seem to get them across. I began to worry because leaving base runners stranded was a recipe for disaster.

I’d run through their lineup once with just my changeup and fastball. It was time to break out the spike curveball. My normal curveball would break from one to seven on a clock face. The spike curve broke from twelve to six.

I also wanted to begin to move my pitches around in the zone. I’d pretty much dared them to hit my high balls down the center of the plate. I knew they’d be looking for that, and I would be in for a long night if I didn’t change things up.

Their leadoff batter was up again. Trent signaled he wanted the fastball low and inside. I think the pitch startled the batter because he laid off it for a called strike. The next pitch was the new curve. Trent had me throw it where I’d been throwing the fastball. I pumped my fist in the air when the poor kid’s knees buckled trying to figure out what to do and the umpire called it a strike.

On the next pitch, I threw the high hard fastball to get him to strike out.

From there I was golden. I realized in the later innings that the new way of throwing the curveball wasn’t nearly as hard on my joints, especially my elbow. They did get a couple of hits off me, but no one got past second base.

Trent had hit a solo home run by the time we got to the last inning, so I was replaced by Kale who did what closers are supposed to do. I wasn’t sure there were many players here that could hit his fastball when he was on like he was today. I had my second win and Kale had the save.

Coach Kingwood grabbed a bag of ice and an ace bandage to hold it on my shoulder. Everyone was tired and satisfied, so after ice cream and signing autographs, we called it a night.

Thursday June 23

Today was overcast and windy, which made it a hitter’s dream because the wind was going out towards right field in the stadium. The other fields wouldn’t be as lucky as they would either get the wind blowing in towards home or even worse, a crosswind, depending on the field.

For our afternoon game, we were up against the Nationals. Their coach had put together a team of fast single-hitters. They were terrors on the base paths, and their aggressive play had gotten them to a 4–2 record. Moose suggested that we play me at shallow center field to better support the infield.

Coach Kingwood was worried about the wind today and wondered if it would be better to have me play more of a traditional position. Moose countered that we’d only trailed once since the tournament had begun and that he suspected they would try to jump out early playing small ball. Later, if we had a lead, then the coaches could move me back to my regular place on the field when the Nationals might try to get it all back with a single swing of the bat. Coach Kingwood decided to follow Moose’s advice.

In the first, we went down in order. Allard came out to pitch for us. The wild man from Arkansas took the mound. I say ‘wild man’ because his mop of hair was blowing everywhere in the wind.

The Nationals’ first batter was their shortstop. He’d stolen three bases and only been caught once. He had a good eye at the plate and had earned himself eight walks. Coach Kingwood made sure Allard was aware of this. We’d also worked on defending bunts at practice this morning. While he hadn’t shown it yet, he was reported to be very good at laying one down.

On the first pitch, he squared around to bunt. Dave and Lucas crept forward at first and third while Joe took a couple of steps towards first to cover the bag in case Dave had to make the play. I was standing behind the second-base bag with my feet just in the grass. I took a couple of steps towards where Joe had been at second. It was good that I did because their batter pulled his bat back and then swatted the ball right to where Joe had moved from. I was already leaning that way and got a good jump on the ball to be able to field it and throw their runner out at first.

Their next batter used a similar ploy but actually did bunt the ball towards first. Trent jumped forward from behind the plate and waved both Dave and Allard off as the ball bounced up the first base line. Joe hustled over to cover first, but Trent was at a bad angle and ended up throwing the ball into the runner’s back. If Trent had taken a couple of steps into the field, he would have had a clean throw.

The ball trickled over towards our dugout and their first-base coach waved the runner to take second. Allard chased the errant ball down, turned, and threw to me by mistake. I was in short center and had planned to backup Mitch as he moved from short to cover second. When I caught it, Mitch’s back was towards me, so I decided to run the ball in and cover the bag. Their runner saw me coming and decided he wouldn’t make it. He turned to run back to first, but he hadn’t counted on my speed. I ran him down just before he reached first.

Their next batter hit a line shot up the middle that I caught on the fly for the third out. Moose’s strategy had paid off with me making all three outs in the first inning.

I was up first in the second. In the first inning, their pitcher had used a combination of sliders and fastballs to work the outer third of the plate to get our first three hitters out. I guessed he would do the same this inning, so I was looking for the slider on the first pitch. All I had to do was get a little lift on the ball and it sailed out of the park.

We held a 1–0 lead when I came back up in the fourth. With me essentially acting as an extra infielder, we had stymied the Nationals. Joe and Mitch were able to spread out some at second and short with my help up the middle. It allowed them both to track down sharply hit balls that normally would’ve been singles.

Dave had managed to get on before me, but up to this point, we’d continued with our pattern of stranding runners. Coach Kingwood motioned me over before I went out to bat.

“I don’t normally tell a hitter to do this but try to hit a home run. We need to get out of this funk. Just use your best judgment but see if you can’t knock one out.”

I was quickly up 2–0 in the count when I was thrown a slider that just missed and a fastball that was high and outside. The next pitch I thought was a slider, took a tremendous cut, and missed when it didn’t slide.

“Holy cow, man, that was a serious swing,” their catcher commented.

“Have him throw me another one. I want to see how far it can fly.”

I bit my lower lip when their pitcher got a determined look and shook off his catcher twice. The little dummy wanted to challenge me. When the ball left his hand, I saw it was a slider, waist high. I almost swung too soon, but I kept my hands back until the last second and then ripped the bat through the strike zone. I heard the ping that told me I’d gotten all of it. I’d hit some prodigious home runs before, but this one was in a league all its own. It got up into the wind and sailed out of the park.

I had to laugh as I rounded first and a car alarm went off when the baseball finally came back to earth. Dave was waiting to high-five me at home plate. I was surprised when their catcher also high-fived me. I’d forgotten that we could all end up on the final team and we weren’t really opponents.

That seemed to turn our bats back on. Unlike the Nationals, our players had pop in their bats. We cruised to a 9–2 victory.

Our last game before the Gold Medal Game was against Dixie. We’d already locked up our spot with a perfect 7–0 record.

We were in the outfield, supposedly warming up. We were instead playing intense concentration, a little game of ‘throw the baseball at someone’s nuts while you’re in a circle.’ For some reason, everyone liked this game that I’d taught them.

“What’s the deal with tomorrow?” Allard asked Dave.

Dave was the only one who had been on the younger teams, so was our go-to guy for all things USA Baseball.

“I heard they plan to do a home-run derby at ten in the morning, Bronze Medal Game will be at one, and the Gold Medal Game will be played at four.”

I skillfully avoided a backhanded throw from Trent.

“When do we find out who made the cut?” Lucas asked.

“They’ll announce it on their TV show. Last time I was told before leaving so I could plan to go to the next camp. I suspect they’ll talk to each of us and let us know before we leave. I remember they didn’t want word to get out before they made the announcement official,” Dave explained.

Joe saved the family jewels when I did a wicked underhand toss his way.

“I heard David had the fastest sixty time. How fast were you?” Nick asked.

“I don’t know. I didn’t ask.” I looked around, spotted Bob, and waved him over. “What was my sixty time?”

“6.37. Coach Kingwood said that a time of 6.7 to 6.9 was average in the big leagues. Last year’s best time was 6.62, but the year before they had someone run a 6.28,” Bob said, and kind of shuffled his feet.

“What else you have you got for us?” I asked.

“You’re starting today.”

Luke, who should be starting, didn’t look happy, and I didn’t blame him. Bob saw it.

“You get to start tomorrow in the Gold Medal Game. They just want to use David to keep your arms fresh for the big game. Coach plans to pitch all of you so the scouts and other coaches get to see you on the mound,” Bob shared.

“Sucks to be me,” I said with a faux pout.

Daz took my moment of goofing off as a chance to hit me in the nuts. Damn that hurt. No one seemed to feel sorry for me. For about the hundredth time I wondered why boys thought hitting other boys in the nuts was funny. I tossed the ball at Kale and scored. That’s why.

Coach Kingwood motioned me to the dugout where Moose was waiting.

“I assume Bob told you.”

“He is handy at doing your dirty work,” I teased.

“You okay with pitching? I know it’s short notice. If your arm is hurting, tell me now and Luke can take the mound.”

“No, I’m good,” I assured him.

“Dixie hasn’t won a game yet, but you know what that means,” Moose said.

“That they’ll want to win one, and we’re the team to beat,” I said, catching on to what Moose was getting at.

“Dixie hasn’t caught a break during field play. They seem to get things started, but somehow find a way to shoot themselves in the foot. Just pitch your game and take it easy. If you start to get tired, tell Coach Kingwood,” Moose advised.

The wind had calmed some by the start of the game. There were still gusts that could make it interesting for any popups. It looked as if the stands would be full again, and my coaches were all able to watch me play tonight since this was our last game before the Gold Medal Game.

Coach Herndon had left this afternoon so he could be with his family. I assumed Mike had put up a stink that his dad was here with me. All Moose would say was it was a family matter, but there seemed to be something else going on. If Moose didn’t think it was an issue, then I was fine with it.

Greg, Angie, Peggy and Pam had already started home with the kids. They’d been bored and a little fussy at Tuesday’s game; I guess they were a little young to sit through a baseball game, even if Unca David was playing. I was glad they’d come because it felt like I was missing out on Coby growing up. It seemed like he was doing something new every day, and I would miss even more over the summer, as I would be constantly on the go.

The baseball game turned into everything Moose had predicted. I would find myself in a jam and Dixie would hit into a double play or make a running error or some other bonehead play that would take them out of the inning. I lasted five innings before I was sent to center field.

In the last inning, Dixie was up to bat and we had sent in our closer, Kale, to wrap this up. He was facing the bottom of their order and we were up 3–0. Kale must not have been feeling it, because the first two batters reached base on singles, which made us a little nervous. Then he bore down and struck the next batter out, only to walk the next one.

Dixie now had the winning run as well as the top of the order at the plate. The crowd seemed to sense that the underdog had a chance, and the volume in the stadium seemed to double. Coach Kingwood made a trip to the mound, and it looked like Kale was okay.

On the first pitch, I heard the crack of the bat that told me the ball was well hit. I watched it sail down the first base line as Nick worked his way towards the right-field corner. I felt a gust of wind and smiled as it pushed the ball foul. I guess Mother Nature wasn’t a fan of Dixie.

Kale and Dixie’s leadoff hitter locked into a battle of wills. Kale was throwing some of his best stuff, but their hitter seemed to fight the pitches off to keep alive. The count was finally full. I gave their hitter a lot of credit for having a good eye. He’d laid off three pitches that were borderline and could’ve been called third strikes. I just hoped that Kale could keep their hitter from straightening out one of his offerings.

On the next pitch, Kale threw the heat low and away. Their hitter reached out, found the ball, and sent it sailing into the left/center field gap. Both Blake and I were hustling to try to catch the ball to prevent runs from scoring. I felt I could get there, but Blake called me off. That was when Mother Nature decided she wasn’t done with us and decided to balance the scales. There was a gust of wind which suddenly made a good play almost impossible. Blake did the only thing he could and dove for the ball.

I made a move to back him up if he missed it. The ball came down and hit off Blake’s glove. I suddenly had a baseball flying at my face. I did what anyone would’ve done, I ducked. In that split second, I knew all of Dixie’s base runners had put their heads down and were sprinting to the next base. This was their chance to right the wrongs of the last few days. Out of habit, I did what Moose had drilled into me: I reached behind me and blindly made a grab for the ball.

Somehow, I found the ball in the web of my glove. I didn’t hesitate; I fired the ball to second to double their runner up and end the game.

Baseball USA filmed the games in order to have highlights for their selection and recap shows. When the highlights were shown later, it looked like I was just hotdogging it. The look on the Dixie players’ faces was priceless. It was like hitting a basket to win the game, only to have the other team hit a three-quarter-length of the floor buzzer shot. The only time I can remember an opponent that was more stunned was when Nazareth Academy’s quarterback did a ‘fuck you’ move after the gun and flipped the ball to Yuri for us to beat them.

I shouldn’t have been surprised when my teammates decided to rush me, knock me down, and all jump on me. It was good they weren’t football players or I might have been crushed.

“Did you see that?! Did you see that?! What the hell, Dawson!” Blake yelled as he helped me up.

“That had disaster written all over it. Thanks, man,” Kale said as he gave me a hug for getting him out of his jam.

I took a deep breath.

“Wow. I guess my coach knew what he was talking about,” I said, and looked over at Dixie. “Come on guys, let’s go shake their hands.”

Coach Kingwood had us gather around so he could talk to us.

“I’m not sure what that was, but I’ll take it. You boys earned your ice cream tonight. This one’s on me,” he said. He handed M.E. money and sent her with Bob to get it.

“I’ll have to talk to your coaches about that drill,” Coach Way, our outfield coach, said after I’d explained what happened.

“Okay, we need to talk about tomorrow. In the morning, there will be reporters and a crew from USA Baseball doing interviews. They want to feature us, so you will all be here at nine. If you’ve never talked to the press before, get with one of the coaches beforehand.