Junior Year - Part III
Chapter 26: Gold Medal Game

Copyright© 2018 by G Younger

Coming of Age Sex Story: Chapter 26: Gold Medal Game - There is a famous movie line: "There's no crying in baseball." Does that apply to making a movie? David Dawson travels to Cuba to make The Royal Palm and discovers that his director hates him. Will he be able to overcome the obstacles placed in front of him to be able to deliver a starring performance? Acting isn't the only thing to do in Cuba. David embarks on a journey to discover this hidden gem and the people that live there. Next is Japan and then U-18 USA Baseball.

Caution: This Coming of Age Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including mt/ft   Teenagers   Sports  

Friday August 19

“You ready to learn something today?” Coach Way asked.

He and I were in center field, and Coach Short was hitting balls to me.

“Of course,” I said with a sideways look.

“Here’s something I bet no one has ever told you,” he said, ready to lay some wisdom on me. “Have you ever been unsure whether or not a line-drive ball will drop in front of you?”

There were times when that could be tricky. I just nodded in response.

“Use the bill of your cap to help judge it. If the ball’s below the bill of your cap, it isn’t going to be hit over your head. If you see that it’s below the bill, your first step doesn’t have to be back to give yourself room to field it. You can square up and either hold your ground or charge it if it drops.”

As stupid as that sounded, it made sense.

“Okay, wise one. Give me another pearl of wisdom.”

“I’m glad you realize I’m the teacher here,” he said. “As an outfielder, you have to realize you’re the last line of defense. That means you never want to let a ball get behind you. Your first step when a fly ball is hit should always be back to get you moving. If you see it’s off to the side or in front of you, you can always adjust.”

I liked that Coach Way didn’t just assume we knew everything. His little coaching tips always reinforced what we’d learned over the years. It just reminded me that baseball was a simple game, and his little tips would make you a better player. I liked our time together.

He gave me a few more and then sent me in to do my batting practice so he could share his words of wisdom with his next victim.

Tonight’s game was against our host country, Mexico. There were basically three tiers of teams at this point. USA and Cuba were in the top tier, as we’d already locked up the Gold Medal Game. The second tier was Nicaragua and Mexico. From what I’d seen and read, they were on equal footing. I believed they would fight it out for third and fourth place. Then there was everyone else.

From watching practice, I had a bad feeling that Mexico might catch us tonight. All the backups were starting and excited to play, but I had a feeling that Mexico wanted this more than we did. The game would be broadcast live across the country, and I’m sure they would want to give us their best game. I’d been the underdog in football and knew it was a powerful motivator. I was just afraid that even though everyone seemed to be saying the right things, they didn’t believe that Mexico could beat us. I sure hoped they were right.


I appreciated that the coaches said that those who wanted to could stay and practice football. It gave my Lincoln teammates people to practice against. The guy who had taken a giant step forward was my half brother Phil. Last year he’d assumed that everything would be handed to him because he was related to me. At some point, the light had switched on and he realized that he had to work to be good.

I think the smartest move the boosters had made was to hire Connor Fletcher, our outside strength and conditioning trainer. Connor had transformed my teammates’ bodies. While Cassidy had helped them become lean and flexible, Connor had added strength and explosiveness. I’d noticed the difference when we’d gone skins versus shirts the other day. Yuri, Roc and Phil had much better muscle definition than my baseball teammates. Normally that wouldn’t have surprised me, because most baseball players don’t work that hard in the weight room. These guys who’d made the USA team were different. They’d worked their tails off. My only conclusion was that the difference was Connor.

The Greene twins, Logan and Royce, both played defensive back at their high school. Logan had been offered a scholarship to Western Kentucky. He was holding out because he wanted his brother to go to college and play ball with him too. Royce had received a baseball scholarship, but like his brother, wanted to also play football.

The reason I mention the Greene twins is because they were both going to be seniors in high school and played football at a high level. Roc and Phil were both going to be sophomores and they were dominating the twins. Granted, Roc had a couple of inches on them, but Phil was an inch shorter. It put a smile on my face when my guys would simply outmuscle the older boys and then outjump them. Roc was taking to the fade routes we were learning. He relished fighting for a reception and was getting good at causing the defensive back to lose his rhythm when he bumped them.

There was a lot of me in Phil. He liked the contact and wasn’t afraid to mix it up with the older boys. I couldn’t wait to see him in pads. I had a feeling he would surprise some people.

Roc hadn’t slacked off either. Yuri told me that he’d claimed one of our JUGS machines as his own and used it constantly to catch balls. The results of his efforts were showing up in our practices. Bill Callaway, who now plays at USC, had the best hands I’d ever seen. He was one of those rare players who made the people around him look better. I can attest to that because I’d thrown him footballs for two years. He rarely dropped a pass. Roc was quickly catching up to Bill in that regard.

During our practices, Roc was my go-to guy for deep balls. It was almost like when I played Madden Football and pulled out Jerry Rice. You just sent him deep and threw him the ball. Alan and Jeff had banned me from picking him after I’d dominated the video game for a few weeks.

Yuri, my little Russian thug, had also improved. I guess I shouldn’t call him that because he was scared of Pam. You couldn’t be a tough guy and be afraid of a girl, even if she carried a Taser. He would be a beast when it came to coverage from the linebacker slot. In most cases, he would either be matched up with a running back or tight end. He more than held his own against Phil and Roc. If he didn’t have hands of stone, I would have begged to have him play offense. Phil and Roc couldn’t outmuscle or outjump him. And on top of that, Yuri was almost as fast as they were.

The reason I loved to have them practice against him was that they couldn’t cheat. They had to run precise routes and trust that I would get them the ball where it was supposed to be. Otherwise, Yuri would either swat it away or knock it loose as they came down with it. It was good that they were friends, or we might have had some problems. When they went head-to-head, tempers would flare because they were competitive.

I could feel the rust coming off my football skills. While I’d been good enough to beat out the guys who’d participated in Elite 11 at the Michigan camp, I never thought I was at my best. That was something they’d taught us at Elite 11: the competition wasn’t against the other campers, it was against yourself.

Yes, my inner Alpha Male wanted to take on all challengers and show dominance. I was self-aware enough to admit that. But once the Alpha Male in me was satisfied, I tended to ignore the competition and focus on myself. I was a little afraid to think what it would be like when I picked a college and stepped onto the field for the first practice. All I could think was that it would be interesting until I proved I was the best.

The part of me that loved contact couldn’t wait until I could put my pads on and hit somebody.


When I got back to the hotel, I checked my phone and found there was a message from Ari to call him back.

“Ari Gould’s office. How may I direct your call?” a woman’s voice answered.

“I’d like to speak to Ari, please. This is David A. Dawson returning his call.”

“One moment.”

I was put on hold and had to listen to classical music. Maybe Ari thought this would make him seem more upper-crust.

“David! I have some news that will make your panties wet,” Ari said by way of a greeting.

When he talked like this, I could tell he was about to unload a bunch of BS on me.

“I’m all atingle with anticipation,” I said in my fake ten-year-old excited voice.

“As you should be. I just got off the phone with Chubby Feldman about the James Bond movie. It seems that they aren’t waiting for Daniel Craig. It looks like they’ll end up signing him for a two-movie deal, but it won’t be for this one. They’ve hired Stewart Thatcher to play Bond,” Ari revealed.

Stewart had played Callum Ascot in The Royal Palm with me. When I first saw him, I thought he could play James Bond. He already had a British accent and had the looks to pull it off. He was also ten years younger than Daniel Craig, who was pushing 50.

“I know they’ve changed who plays James Bond before, but wouldn’t it be better if Daniel Craig was the lead?” I asked.

“I talked to Chubby and he was fine with it. They planned to pay Craig $50 million. Without him, they can spend more on the production and other talent. Chubby hired Rita James to play your mother and Mia Hilliard to be your Bond girl.”

Mia was the new Megan Fox, who’d been the love interest in the first two Transformer movies. Mia had been in three straight action movies that had made money at the box office.

I knew that Rita had been contacted, but I thought everything was still up in the air. I’d signed a placeholder contract because they weren’t sure if they were going to shoot the film. Daniel Craig had balked at signing because he currently had more money than God and wanted to spend time with his family. He had a son in grade school that he didn’t want to be apart from for the time it took to film one of these.

“Chubby sent over a contract to firm everything up. He asked that you remain at the same salary, but take two points on the back end. If it does anything like the last couple, that will double if not triple what you’re getting paid,” Ari said.

“What does Caryn say?” I asked.

Ari made a rude noise.

“You’re 18 now. You don’t need Caryn or her lackey Kent getting in the middle of this,” Ari said.

I’d forgotten that Kent was now my manager for everything associated with movies. Even so, I paid for a manager for a reason.

“Send it to Kent, and when I get his approval, we’ll sign the deal,” I told Ari, to throw him a bone.

“Fine. I just don’t need them sticking their noses into matters they don’t understand,” Ari said to show his displeasure.

After talking to me, Rita had decided to keep him as her agent after the company he once owned had shown him the door. Someday I would have to get all the gory details on what had happened to cause them to push him out.

He had to be over-the-moon excited that he’d placed two of his clients in such a high-profile movie.

After I hung up, I went to Rita’s suite.

“Have you heard?” she asked as she opened the door.

“That you’re playing my mother?” I asked.

Even my little dig about her being old enough to be my mother couldn’t dampen her excitement. Trip and Halle caught it and rolled their eyes at me as I hugged a very happy Rita.

When we went inside, she sat me down.

“Tell me what you’re getting,” she ordered.

I knew that they tended to shortchange female cast, so I figured I would give her all the details. I even shared what they had offered to pay Daniel Craig and how Chubby planned to roll the savings into increased production costs and better talent.

Rita gave me a tight smile that I interpreted to mean that she hadn’t gotten close to what I was offered.

“I need to go talk to my agent,” Rita decided.

“I still haven’t signed my contract. I’d be willing to enter joint negotiations,” I said.

She was taken aback.

“Thanks, but I don’t think that’ll be necessary. The studio has to know that Ari represents both of us. Ari should have told me what you just did to help me decide on my offer. Plus, I don’t want you to ever make that offer to anyone again,” she said, scolding me.

“Rita, I won’t, but the offer stands. I consider you to be a mentor and almost family. I wouldn’t do this for anyone else,” I admitted.

We hugged and I left so she could make her call and I could go find my parents and Caryn so she could get Kent on it.


When I finally made it back to my room, I received a call from Jeff.

“I got a strange request. My parent company wants me to interview you and Rita James. It was just announced that the two of you will be in the next James Bond movie.”

I should have figured they would release that announcement. I knew that meant I could expect press from the States to start showing up. Jeff and I agreed on a time and place. He then sheepishly asked if I could ask Rita. I just laughed at him, hung up, and dialed a number.

“Frank, it’s David. Something’s come up,” I started.

“Did you get caught with a dead hooker?” he asked.

We’d joked about that in the past. I contended that Fritz could make a dead hooker disappear. I think Frank just relished the payday he could expect to help me fight it in the press.

“No, they just announced that Rita James and I will be in the new James Bond movie.”

He had me on the phone for the next thirty minutes, going over everything I knew. He planned to crank up his media team so that he could control the narrative to my best advantage. He promised to have talking points to me and Rita before we met with Jeff.

After I got off the phone, I shook my head. It seemed like whenever one of my activities wound down, one or two of the others would make their presence known.


I had a big grin on my face when we sat down with Jeff. I’d heard him on more than one occasion rail against the fashion and entertainment reporters who showed up at sporting events to ask questions.

“Just shut up,” Jeff said, which confused Rita.

“We better hope they wrote down a bunch of questions for him, or this will be fun,” I said.

“What do you mean?” Rita asked.

“Jeff is a hard sports reporter. I bet the last movie he watched was Finding Nemo with his granddaughter.”

“Oh,” Rita said to me, and then turned to Jeff. “Did they give you a list of questions?”

“Yes.”

“Can I see them?” Rita asked.

She began to read them and shook her head.

“Let me help you,” she suggested, and he handed over his pencil so she could mark through the questions. She looked over what she’d done and then added a few more.

Rita even numbered them and marked each one with whom he should ask it of.

“Here, this should help.”

Jeff took them and read what she’d given him.

“Okay, this makes more sense. I think this’ll work,” Jeff agreed.

We did twelve minutes of interview that later turned into ninety seconds on air, thirty of which was eaten up with him introducing himself and another fifteen of us being introduced. Thankfully they picked Rita’s response to one of his questions to air. All I had to do was sit there and smile. I wish all my interviews were that easy.


Mom sent me a text saying the people from Busch Gardens were here. I gathered my parents, Cassidy, and Chuck and we went to the veterinarian who was keeping the tiger cubs for us. Someone had tipped Jeff off and he had his camera crew there to film the handover.

“I bet you’re getting sick of seeing me,” Jeff said.

“For this ... no. I’m just glad we found a home for them. I think my Lab, Duke, would have been worried if I brought them home.”

Mom and Cassidy had already gone in so they could love-up their namesakes. I came in to find the two of them putting ribbons in the cubs’ hair. The cubs put up with it, but I had to shake my head at how cute they looked. It was hard to believe that they would grow up into such big cats.

The vet came out and handed me a bill. I just got my credit card out and paid it.

We were soon joined by people from Busch Gardens, the Game and Wildlife official, and someone from the Mexican government. They made a big deal of making sure I wasn’t selling the cubs to the park. I had to certify that they were being donated.

Jeff captured the exchange. Mom and Cassidy handed over their little bundles, and they made loud ‘rah’ roars as if they knew what was happening. Poor Cassidy had played tour guide and spent the most time with the cubs. She had tears running down her face as she handed hers over. I think my mom was there to make sure I didn’t back out of it.

When the cubs were loaded into pet carriers, a woman from Busch Gardens pulled me aside.

“Thank you for donating the tigers,” she said and handed me a legal-sized envelope. “Inside you’ll find direct contact information so you can get updates on the girls. Busch Gardens can’t pay you anything, but as a show of our appreciation, you’ll find lifetime VIP passes for access to the park. I hope you take advantage of them, and if you let us know ahead of time, we’ll get you behind-the-scenes access.”

“Do you know what type of tiger they are?” I asked.

“They’re Siberian or Amur tigers. The last census that was done estimates there are only 360 of them left in the wild. Stumbling upon two healthy females is a great find. We’ll do everything we can to make sure they’re well taken care of.”

As they drove off, I pulled Cassidy to me and gave her a hug.

“I promise we’ll go see them,” I assured her.

She gave me fierce hug back and I could see the ghost of a smile. I was glad she’d spent time with them.


Tonight’s game against Mexico rated the better stadium, and the game had been sold out for several weeks before the tournament. Caryn had come through by wrangling tickets for all my security, family and friends who were still here. Team USA had an allotment of tickets and we made sure that the families of boys playing tonight got them. The other families understood.

They’d also moved the game back an hour so it could be shown in prime time across Central and South America. The only places it was being shown in the States were on a couple of Spanish-speaking stations that carried programming from south of the border. I admit it, I did watch some of the telenovelas. The women were all good-looking and I could practice my Spanish. I would stick to that story if anyone asked.

We were up first, and right off the bat, it was obvious we were facing their best pitcher. He mowed us down with three strikeouts. Luke started for us and they put a run across in the first inning. The score stayed 1–0 until the top of the third when we hit a solo home run to tie the game.

In the bottom of the third, they loaded the bases. Coach Kingwood had seen enough and brought in Daz to do his job as our middle reliever. He gave up a run on a fielder’s choice but struck out the next two batters to get us out of the inning.

Coach Kingwood looked down the bench and his eyes locked on me.

“Go warm up. If Daz gets into trouble, I may want to use you. I want to save our best for Cuba,” he said.

I jogged out to the bullpen with that ringing endorsement bouncing around in my head. Patrick was in the bullpen and smiled when he saw they’d sent me out.

“They must really be in trouble if they think you can help,” he teased.

“I heard that Coach liked what he saw from your replacement. He’s thinking of starting him in the Gold Medal Game,” I shot back.

“I might believe you if he gets a hit,” he complained.

Patrick was one of our bats at the bottom of the order that couldn’t seem to get it going.

“I know there isn’t much time, but if you want, we can go to the batting cage for the next three days and see if we can figure it out,” I offered.

“At this point, I would try anything.”

I loosened up. In the bottom of the eighth, Daz was tiring. I looked at Patrick and we decided I needed to get serious about getting ready. Daz got lucky and his defense saved him with the first batter, but he promptly walked the second. Coach Kingwood trotted out to the mound. Since I was the only one warming up, I figured out he wanted me to come into the game.

The stadium began playing music over the PA system. At first, I couldn’t figure out what it was from, but it sounded familiar. I couldn’t understand why the crowd stood up and began clapping. Then the light bulb came on: they were playing the theme song to James Bond. When I got to the mound, I stopped and then dropped into the pose that was shown at the beginning of the movies where they have a shadow of James Bond pointing his gun at a bad guy.

“What the heck are you doing?” Coach Kingwood asked.

“Bond, Ian Bond,” I said, taking the ball.

Coach Kingwood went back to the dugout talking to himself. Something about this not being worth it.

I ignored his hating on me and took a moment to take in all my peeps cheering for me. I took off my cap and bowed. I was positive the umpire wasn’t a fan.

“It looks like you’re ready. Play ball!”

Well, shit! I should have toned down the dramatics and thrown a few from the mound to get used to it.

I took a moment to collect myself. Daz mainly used the fastball and changeup. I decided to break out my new curveball. I had to shake off my catcher five times until he called it. I felt like a total rookie on the mound. I dug my fingernail into the seam of the ball and snapped off my curve. The batter thought it was a high weak fastball and watched as it dropped in for a strike. I followed that with a split-finger fastball that had more speed, but still had some break to it. I struck him out with my changeup that I threw high in the zone.

I channeled the older Cuban pitcher I’d faced. That man had me tied in knots. His only weakness was he didn’t have a very good fastball anymore. While mine wasn’t the best one here, it was fast enough that you had to respect it. That was what the next batter found out as he guessed curve and I uncorked the heat.

I was up fifth in the top of the ninth. Unfortunately, I never got a shot to either even the score or win the game. We lost 2–1, to the delight of the home team. They acted like they’d won the World Series. They could claim that they were the only team to beat us. We waited for them to calm down and then did the whole handshake bit. I was reminded that it sort of sucked being the loser.

After the game, we met with Coach Kingwood in the locker room.

“We got that one out of our system. I don’t think I have to remind you what Monday’s game is all about.

“I’m giving you tomorrow off. I understand that David will probably come in for batting practice. If you want to join him, we can use the facilities in the morning. Sunday is a family day. I’ve talked to your parents and they have activities planned. Then Monday will be a game day. Practice in the morning and the game at night.

“I just wanted to take a moment and say I’m proud of you all. I might not get a chance to talk to you all after we win Monday night. I wanted to say that it has been an honor and a joy to get to know each one of you. I’m sure that you will all go on to better things. I hope that you look back on this journey with fond memories. I know I will.

“I understand the tradition is that ice cream is for winners. I consider you all winners,” he said as Yuri, Roc, and Paul carried out trays of ice cream bars.

That took the sting out of losing.


Coach Kingwood pulled me aside after my shower.

“I just wanted to tell you it has been a pleasure being your coach.”

“I’ve had a fun time. I still can’t believe I made the team.”

“You had the perfect attitude and showed a lot of leadership. You’re exactly the kind of guy I want leading my teams. I wish you sucked a little bit because I could use you at my junior college,” Coach Kingwood said.

“If my plans don’t work out, I might take you up on that.”

“I wanted to give you one piece of news. You’ve been named to the preseason high school All-American Team by Baseball America. The Greene twins and Patrick made the first team with you. Allard and Austin made the second team.”

“I guess that means I’m good enough to make a living playing baseball,” I said.

“Yes. From what I heard, you could be a first-round draft pick out of high school,” Coach Kingwood assured me.

Could I really play the game I loved professionally? I could see I would have a tough decision when the time came. For now, I would see how it all played out. All it would take would be an injury and I would have to look at my plans differently. There was no sense in deciding now.


Saturday August 20

I got up and went to breakfast. My favorite waitress waited on me and introduced me to a new dish, Mexican frittata. I personally liked frittatas. You could put a lot of leftovers into it and make either dinner or breakfast. They made theirs with chorizo, potatoes, tomatoes, scallions, black olives, fresh jalapeño, and pepper jack cheese, topped with a black bean and corn relish.

I’d loved the dishes Rosy had introduced me to when I stayed in LA with Halle, but this just seemed to be better. My waitress confided in me that the cook had found out the meals were for me, so she had gone off the menu and prepared it like it was done at home.


Batting practice found all the starters waiting for turns. The backups were coming in this afternoon. It was good to see my teammates put in the work. I spent a few minutes with each of them and just reminded them of their fundamentals and offered encouragement. There wasn’t much I could do for them with only a couple of days left before we played Cuba.

Most of what they needed was to know they were okay. None of the guys in the five through nine slots in the order had any genuine issues with their swing. It was just the simple fact that we had only played seven games, six of which they had batted in. On average, they’d been up to the plate twenty times. We’d all been through slumps longer than twenty at bats.

It could swing the other way too. My personal batting average was a gaudy .675. All my teammates in the one through four slots were hitting over .500. When you had a short window, your average could easily be skewed. I made a point to remind everyone of that fact. I did mention that my average was probably about right. Sometimes it’s good that I have security with me.


I was caught completely off guard when I found Mia Hilliard and Stewart Thatcher in the lobby with Rita James.

“Go take a shower and put on something decent. The studio has arranged a mini press junket,” Rita explained.

I went up to my room and found Halle sitting on my bed, waiting for me.

“You be careful of Mia. She looks like trouble,” she announced.

I blinked at her a couple of times and shook my head as I got undressed to take a shower.

“Pick out an outfit that looks like something a young James Bond would wear,” I said over my shoulder.

I caught Halle inspecting my naked bottom. She was such a bad girl. I had to turn the shower on cold to keep Mr. Happy from making an appearance.

When I came out, she’d found my black Dakora jacket with red trim and a skinny red tie to wear with it. I smiled when I saw my new oxblood-red leather tennis shoes matched the color of the trim and tie.

Halle giggled when I preened like James Bond does in his movies. He was always ‘dressed to kill,’ so to speak.

“I had to do some research for the role,” I said to defend myself.

Frank had told me that he’d dug up a study that showed that 98% of women loved James Bond. 95.7% of those had erotic dreams involving him. Those were the kind of numbers I was looking for in this role.

There was a knock at the door. I found Frank waiting for me.

“I guess this must be a big deal if you showed up,” I said.

He gave me a quick inspection and decided I looked okay.

“Here, read these,” he said, handing me my talking points. “They decided to move quickly and start the PR machine, now that the cast is set. They caught me flat-footed when they told me that they were sending out Mia and Stewart to kick everything off. They’ve set up interviews with People, Vanity Fair and Rolling Stone to start. Vanity Fair wants to do a quick photo shoot with plans of putting you all on the cover,” he explained.

During the interview, Rita took the lion’s share of the questions. I had no problem with that because let’s be real here, she was Rita James. Stewart was every bit as charming and his British accent just rolled off his tongue. I thought Chubby had hit a home run.

Mia Hilliard. What can I say about her? She was the up-and-coming female action star. In her previous movies, she’d been paired with a nerd or wimpy kind of guy that left you scratching your head wondering how the heck they could have gotten that girl. It very much reminded me of Transformers when Megan Fox was paired with Shia LaBeouf. It seemed like a formula they’d come up with so that regular guys could imagine themselves as the hero with the superhot girlfriend.

I caught Mia glancing at me. I almost burst out laughing when the girl from Vanity Fair busted her.

“I take it you think David’s okay?” she asked.

“I ... uh ... yeah. When I got the part, I was excited that I would be teamed up with him. I can’t wait to see what kind of magic we can make,” she said for the save.

 
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