Chapter 38

The next morning started just as early as usual, and was just about as cold, but my disposition was definitely better. Today was ‘game day’. We had the eighth game of the season and our first against our divisional rival, The Wolves (or as Tim calls them, ‘The Zombies’). The funny thing was the most of our team did not know any of these guys. They either went to Walnut Grove Middle School, the Regional High School or one of the Catholic schools in Greenburg The funny things was that McNeeley Funeral Home was a business based in East Chilton but they didn’t have one player on their squad that went to any of the public schools in town.

After Willie and I finished our egging and milking, I caught a big breakfast from Grandma. Then it was off to the bus.

“So, you guys are playing the Wolves tonight,” said David Lincoln, barely giving me a moment to sit in the row across from him.

“Yeah. They’re pretty mysterious,” I commented.

“Well, they are Zombies,” chimed Tim.

“Well, I mean, does anybody know any of these guys?” I asked.

“Not me,” said David.

“I knew Lance Gorman,” said Tim. “He went to third grade at Meadow, before he went to the Catholic School.”

“I didn’t move to town until fifth grade,” I explained.

David just shook his head. “Just be ready for a steady dose of junk, man. I don’t know who these guys are, but all they throw are breaking pitches and practically everybody on that team pitches.”

When I asked David what he meant, all he did was shake his head and say, “You won’t believe it until you see it.”

The rest of the bus trip was listening to Jake Turner whining about something involving some girl he liked, who was way prettier than Janie. I chuckled at how stupid he was. Nobody, except maybe Jen, would fit that distinction, not some seventh grader.

After getting to school, Homeroom was as boring as usual.

English class was hard to sit through again. We were working on the poetry of the romantic poets of England. It was hard to listen to Wordsworth, Byron and Shelly, read with so little passion by a teacher I greatly loved and respected. The fallout of all of the gossip had taken its toll on poor Mrs. Douglas. After class, I waited until everybody left and walked up to her. I was taking a risk with what I was going to tell her, but felt it must be said.

“Snap out of it!” I snarled.

She broke down and cried, as she collapsed into her desk chair. I quickly closed and locked the door and pulled her into a hug. What came out of her mouth was an incoherent spew of feelings. I shushed her and simply said.

“You are the best teacher at this school, yet you didn’t teach like that today. You can’t let them win.”

She nodded, as we broke our hug and grabbed a tissue to blow her nose.

“Tommy, I don’t think I’m the best teacher here, but you’re right about the rest. I can’t let them win.”

I told her about witnessing the exchange with Mr. Seiling and Mrs. Hicks, and she smiled.

“Well, that’s something, I guess.”

“Sarah, please come to my game and over for supper tonight.”

“Oh, Tommy, I wouldn’t want to inconvenience your family.”

“You won’t. Grandma loves to cook for guests. You need to be around family and I really would like you to see me play.”

Mrs. Douglas smiled and took my hand in hers and patted it with her other hand. “Thank you, Tommy, I’ll be there.”

“Good.” I said, explaining which park to go to for my game.

“Now, I’ll write you a pass, so you don’t annoy Mr. Crane,” she said, with a little more confidence in her voice.

I felt better, as I walked to my next class, as the bell had just rang. It seemed I had become a lifeline to Mrs. Douglas and I saw her as another friend I needed to defend. I also realized it wasn’t just me. The Matthews/Johanssons family stood by our friends. I’m sure my dad would help Sarah Douglas when the time was right. Somehow, I knew eventually she would be alright, despite the tough time she was having now.

Despite my late (but excused) arrival, Mr. Crane’s class went well. After class, I was able to give him a quick update of my progress with one of the text books he had given me. He was confident that if I kept up my pace, I would be well ahead of where I needed to be by the time I would need to take the final.

I made it through the rest of my morning classes and had an enjoyable lunch with my girls and my friends. The afternoon sped along despite me looking forward to our first match-up against the notorious Wolves.

As per my typical game day tradition, I jumped on Jen and Janie’s bus with them. I asked them to sit next to each other so I could sit in the seat behind them and whisper in their ears, Sadly that did not happen, as a seventh grade girl plopped down in the seat next to me.

“Ooh ... I get to sit next to Tommy Matthews!” she exclaimed. “Wait until I get to tell my friends! They’ll be so jealous.”

I just smiled and did my best not to roll my eyes. To quote Hunter S. Thompson, it had been a strange and wonderful ride, going from ‘King of the Geeks,’ to being one of the most popular kids in school. Luckily I had J Squared to keep me humble.

“Oh, Yes, Mary, Tommy is so dreamy,” stated Jennifer, in an over-the-top way.

“But he can be so stinky sometimes. Boys can be so gross,” laughed Janie.

Mary looked confused. She leaned over me and took a deep whiff. “He smells really nice to me,” she sighed.

“Just wait until tonight after his game. Just make sure to bring a clothespin for your nose,” warned Janie.

“Wow! With girlfriends like these, who needs enemies?” I said after an exaggerated sigh of my own.

“Girlfriends? You date both of them?” asked a shocked Mary.

“I’m always looking for another to add to the group. Just ask Jennifer for an application.” I grinned.

Jennifer turned back to Mary. “Sorry, but we’re not taking applications at this time.”

“But if Tommy keeps trying to be funny, he may have two openings to fill soon,” glared Janie, causing Jen to breakdown into giggles, until Janie couldn’t keep a straight face and started giggling too, causing me to breathe easier. For a second, I really thought Janie was mad at me, but she must have been a great actress.

Still, note to self: Sometimes you’re not as funny as you think you are.

Mary just shook her head. “Eighth graders are so weird.”

When I arrived at the ballpark with Nick (per our Tuesday tradition), I walked over to my coach.

“Hi, Coach!”

“Well, Tom, you ready for a strange game?” asked Coach Daniels.

“Yeah, I’ve heard the Wolves are different, but don’t know exactly what that means.”

Coach Daniels grinned. “Well, between my father and I, we’ve scouted McNeeley Funeral Home four times this season. I will say that they are a very different team now, than they were at the beginning of the season.”

“Yeah, I heard that they started slowly, but have won four of their last five,” I replied.

“That’s true, but it is not just their record that has changed, but their style of play, though that has been a big part of their success.”

“How has that changed?” I asked.

“Well, I think the best way to explain that is by showing you their lineup card,” said Coach Daniels, as he passed me the card. It read:

I frowned. “What kind of lineup is that?”

“A strange, but perfectly legal one, according to the rules.”

“I don’t understand. Why the multiple position listings?”

“Because the players who are listed as pitchers are eligible to pitch at any time in the game and don’t need to pitch to consecutive hitters for them to be able to pitch again later.”

“How is this allowed?” I asked.

“The only rule concerning pitching eligibility is that starting pitchers are not allowed to start in consecutive games. Other than that, the rules state that ‘as long as a player stays in the game, he can change defensive positions with another player.’ Since there is nothing that states that the rule does not apply to pitchers, the move is perfectly legal.”

I just shook my head with a bemused smile, as my coach continued.

“The Wolves have two primary starters, but everybody on the team pitches. Their lefty, Kenny Dawson is a pretty good, but Ronny Dill, their righty starter has good stuff for a pitcher at this level. Coach Gleason held him back so we would have to face him.”

“So Dill will start the game?” I asked.

“Not necessarily. Paul is a lefty so they might throw Williams or Rogers who are both lefty pitchers.”

The more coach talked, the more my head hurt. This was going to be a weird game.

When everybody got there, we went through are warm ups and while the Wolves did theirs, Coach Daniels explained to them what he explained to me. My teammates were equally confused annoyed.

“Look guys. I would love to have had a practice with you guys to prepare for this team, but due to the schedule having us play them on a Tuesday, that was not possible. The key thing is to keep disciplined at the plate, especially against their lesser tier pitchers. You’ll probably see a lot of breaking pitches, a few knuckle curves, and even a screwball or two from the lefties. I saw these guys play the Cheetahs, who have even more sluggers than we do. The thing is that they are a bunch of free-swingers and the lesser talent on the mound got them out with pitches out of the strike zone,” he said, and then paused, no doubt for emphasis.

“Make these guys throw strikes! Dill is the only one of these guys who can challenge you with a fastball. If you’re facing one of the other four guys, force them to throw strikes or let them walk you. Don’t allow yourselves to be tantalized by slow pitches that flutter, curve or swerve out of the strike zone.”

Coach then looked at me, Billy and Jason. “This is particularly true of you guys in the heart of the order! I don’t care if you walk nine times between you. If you don’t get anything to hit, smile and take your base. Let your teammates pick you up. We are the better team here and the only way the Wolves can level the playing field is if we let them. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Coach,” we all barked in unison.

“Now on offense, they are kind of the ‘Anti-Cheetahs’. They are disciplined hitters with three speedsters at the top of the lineup who all hustle. The only real power threat in their lineup is Dan Rogers, their first basemen. Terry, you need to be aggressive with all of their hitters and throw strikes, but be aware that Rogers can hurt you,” said Coach Daniels.

“Yes, Coach,” replied Terry.

“Infielders, especially, you corner guys, you need to be aware of the bunt and know your assignments. These guys are not going to crush the ball, but they can manufacture runs with their patience at the plate and speed and aggression on the base paths. The best way to stop them from stealing and taking the extra base is to keep them off the bases. Got it?”

“Yes, Coach,” I and the other infielders chimed.

Then we did our normal cheer.

“Lions Rule!” we all shouted.

We then watched the Wolves finish their warm-ups and that gave me a chance to look around. We were the visiting team today, but as always, my rooting section was with us, in full force with a notable addition. I looked out and saw Sarah Douglas sitting next to my dad. She was smiling, which was a good sign. We were playing our normal lineup according to the lineup card.

As the Wolves had warmed up, I saw several of them take to the mound and throw some practice pitches. Yes, this was going to be a weird game.

When the ump yelled play ball, Paul walked to the batter’s box, while Mike took his spot in the ‘on deck circle’. The Wolves pitcher and first basemen then immediately switched positions. Rogers was a lefty and threw a strange pitch that seemed to flit out of the strike zone at the last minute. Paul was taking the pitch all the way, so he started his count at one and oh.

“Ah, Carl Hubbell the great old-time New York Giants Hall of Famer, used to call that his ‘butterfly pitch”,” grinned Coach.

“What?” asked Billy.

“It’s a screwball, right, Coach?” I asked.

“Yup. But I prefer Hubbell’s name for it,” he grinned before yelling to Paul, “Make him throw it for a strike!”

Paul heard him and nodded.

Rogers next pitch seemed to nearly hit Paul, but fluttered at the last second, just missing the inside corner. The umpire indicated two balls and no strikes.

Rogers seemed frustrated as he must have been used to hitters swinging at his pitches in the past, but Paul was a good, patient hitter, as the best lead-off batters usually are. He knew his job was to set the table and that could be done without even swinging the bat.

The next pitch was a mediocre fastball a bit inside which Paul took for ball three. Ball four came on another fastball or maybe a slider that failed to break. Either way, it was too high and we had our first base runner aboard.

Rogers took the ball back from his catcher and yelled “Time!” as Tim Lemon, the center fielder trotted towards the pitching mound, Dan Rogers went back to first and their normal pitcher, Ronnie Dill ran out to center field. We were watching the first example of ‘baseball musical chairs’ I had ever seen. Personally, I think they should have yanked a player off the field every time the music stopped, because otherwise, this was going to be a long game.