Seventeen-year-old high school senior Lee Larkin sat alone at the end of the dugout. His teammates and coaches studiously avoided him and left Lee alone with his thoughts; the age-old superstition was front and foremost in everyone’s mind.

Lee slipped on his batting helmet, grabbed his bat, and made his way to the on-deck circle. He swung his bat in time to the opposing pitcher’s warm-ups; his bat whistling through the air. Unusual for a game of this import, the crowd watched in eerie silence as Lee took his swings in what might be the last inning of the Series.

The Series.

Before this game, the Series had been a non-event for Lee. He had cheered his teammates on from the dugout but had seen zero playing time. Now they were playing in the third and final game of the state championship and at times, Lee felt a curious detachment from the event. It was almost as if he was watching someone else.

Lee’s team, the Ferguson High School Wildcats were playing the Amarillo High School Sandies. Technically the Golden Sandstorm, Lee had learned, although no one called them anything but Sandies. It was a double-elimination tournament, and they had split the first two games. The winner of this game would be the state 6A champion.

The game would ordinarily be played in the Arlington stadium where the Texas Rangers played but due to mega-popstar Toni Speed extending her Dallas concert appearance for an additional two nights, the game was being played at Ferguson High School. There were protests lodged, but the Rangers would not budge. Two additional nights of Toni Speed’s sold-out concert revenue against a high school baseball game? That decision left the two teams unsuccessfully scrambling for a stadium for the state championship.

Lee had been able to hear the conversations of people in the stands for the first few innings, but after the third inning, the stands had grown mostly silent. As the game progressed, more and more people showed up. The stands were now filled to overflowing as people lined the outfield fences to watch the game. Lee glanced around the stands as he swung his bat around to loosen his shoulder muscles before taking his practice swings. The donut weight on the end of his bat made a whistling noise as it sliced through the air. It was the only sound on the baseball field as all eyes were on Lee in the on-deck circle.

Lee took another look around the stands but did not see either his mother or shithead Barry. At least Sloan was there, sitting next to her parents. As long as Sloan was there for him, he could put up with a lot of life’s bullshit. The beautiful, auburn-haired teen saw Lee looking at her and smiled and waved to him. The love and pride she held for him radiated off her.

Lee’s gaze wandered past the centerfield fence where he watched the lone figure standing with binoculars to his eyes. Lee knew that the watcher would be at exactly five hundred and one yards. Not an inch closer than five hundred yards and not an inch further than five hundred and one. The restraining order had been very clear and precise and there was no doubt in Lee’s mind that either his mother or shithead Barry would call the police if the watcher violated the order.

The game had started the same as any other playoff game with the same case of nerves and panic that was to be expected from teen boys suddenly tasked with playing for big stakes with the series tied at one-all. Lee had suited up the same as everyone else on the ‘Cats but had not expected to play. He had not played all year. The Tommy John surgery that he had undergone eleven months previously had healed but Coach Borden had consistently declined to put Lee on the roster. As time went on, his arm healed, and the tendon grafted from his left leg became stronger and more elastic. Lee’s arm felt great, yet he continued to ride the bench.

He would have sat this game out too if not for the fact that Steve Gilmer, the scheduled pitcher had smashed his thumb in shop class. Coach Borden was pissed and Steve was embarrassed. He told Coach that he could still pitch. Coach told Steve to sit this one out. He penciled in “Larkin” for pitcher and hitting ninth. Lee was going to start as pitcher for the first time in over a year.

As the home team, the ‘Cats took the field first and would bat in the bottom of the inning.

As he threw his warm-up pitches, Lee felt an overwhelming calmness settle over himself. The anger and embarrassment that he had been feeling until now left him as he suddenly felt lighter and more energized than he had in weeks. His feelings towards his mother and shithead Barry were no longer clouding his mind. He stepped off the rubber and looked past the centerfield fence at the lone figure standing well away from the field and the crowd. He tugged the bill of his baseball cap towards the figure in silent acknowledgment.

Lee threw his last warmup pitch and then as the ball was tossed from Gary Neal to first base and then around the infield, he walked towards Gary, his best friend and catcher.

“What’s up L.?” Gary asked.

“My arm’s feeling great today. I’m going to push it a little.”

Gary frowned at that. “Are you sure that’s safe? Are you healed up enough?”

Lee shrugged. “I guess we’ll find out soon enough.” Gary slapped Lee on the back and trotted back to home plate to begin the first inning.

The first batter of the game stepped into the batter’s box and planted his feet. Gary signed for a four-seam fastball and the resulting throw sounded like a rifle shot as it hit Gary’s mitt.

Gary stared at Lee in shock. He had barely seen the ball before it was in his mitt. He turned towards the PITCH/FX display to check out Lee’s pitch speed.

95 MPH.

He slowly turned in disbelief towards Lee who shrugged. Coach Borden looked on in open-mouthed surprise as did the Amarillo coach. Called strike one.

Gary again called for the four-seamed fastball. Lee nodded and then went into his windup.

Called strike two.

At 98 MPH.

Gary called time with the umpire and trotted out to the mound.

“What the fuck, Larkin? Where did those come from?”

“I don’t know G. My arm feels great and all the bullshit between my mom and dad and shithead Barry seems to be out of my mind. I think I can throw faster than that even.”

“Dude, don’t fuck up your arm,” Gary warned.

“True dat,” Lee replied.

Lee’s next pitch was his splitter which the batter gawked at as it cut the corner of the plate for a called strike three.

The second batter took a cut at Lee’s first pitch which turned into a behind-the-plate pop-up foul which Gary easily caught for the second out.

The third batter took a swipe at Lee’s first pitch, a split-finger fastball that broke suddenly before reaching the plate. Strike one.

The batter watched as Lee’s second pitch, a changeup, cut the corner of the plate for a called strike two.

Lee’s third pitch was a four-seam fastball, knee level, straight down the middle of the plate. The batter watched it go by for a called strike three.

Three out.

Three outs with a pitch count of 7.

In the bottom of the first inning, the ‘Cats did not do much better than the Sandies had in their half of the inning. Gary Neal, the lead-off batter walked and then the next hit into a double play. The third batter for the ‘Cats, Toby Hughes the shortstop, flew out on a long drive to right field to end the inning.

The first half of the second inning went very much like the previous first half. Lee had been able to compartmentalize the turmoil that was going on in his personal life as he faced the clean-up hitter for the Sandies. The batter got a hit off of Lee’s first pitch; a slider. The hit was a short dribbler back to Lee which he fielded one-handed, easily making the throw to first in time to throw out the runner.

One out.

The second batter took two called strikes before taking an embarrassingly late swing on Lee’s four-seam fastball.

Two out.

The third batter hit Lee’s first pitch; a change-up that turned into a pop-up foul right beside the third base coach’s box. Terry Tyler, the third baseman, easily caught the foul.

Three out with a total pitch count of 12 after one and a half innings.

The ‘Cats managed to strand runners on first and third when the second inning ended for a score of 0-0 after two innings.

Lee’s first two pitches in the third inning were wicked curves that seemed to hang over the plate like ripe oranges before plunging toward the batter’s knees. The batter’s attempts to hit the ball looked like someone trying to kill snakes with a garden hoe. Gary called for the four-seam fastball. Strike three at 102 MPH.

One out.

The Amarillo coach screamed time out, marched to home plate, and started complaining to the umpire and gesticulating wildly. Coach Borden strolled over to home plate to listen in.

“I’ve never seen any high school kid throw that fast! Somethings not right here!”

The umpire had removed his mask to speak with the Amarillo coach. “I’ve never seen any pitcher throw that fast, high school, college, or pro,” the umpire said. He looked towards Coach Borden. “Coach, who is this guy? The Amarillo coach says he’s never played before and he thinks he’s a ringer.”

Coach Borden shook his head no. “Lee Larkin is a Senior at Ferguson High. This is his third year with the team. Last year he had Tommy John surgery. This is his first game since the surgery.”

The umpire shook his head and chuckled. “What did they replace that tendon with? Adamantium? Okay coaches; let’s play ball.”

The second and third batters fared little better than the first. The second batter struck out on three pitches and the third batter managed to make contact with the ball on Lee’s second pitch. The ball landed a foot in front of home plate and Gary was able to throw the runner out with time to spare.

Three out with a pitch count of 20 after two and a half innings. Nine batters and 20 pitches meant that Lee was averaging less than two and a quarter pitches per batter.

During the inning break, the coaches and umpires were huddled together for a brief meeting with the UIL representative monitoring the state championship game. After the huddle, the coaches reported the meeting to their respective teams. A subchannel of the Dallas ABC affiliate had been broadcasting the game, but because of Lee’s pitching, the game was now being carried on ESPN; which, like ABC, was owned by Disney. The game had gone national because no one had ever seen a high school pitcher throw over 100 MPH.

The ‘Cats, now having to contend with a collective case of nerves after suddenly finding out they were playing on national TV, were once again unable to score a run in their half of the inning and soon took to the field to begin the fourth inning.

Lee’s fourth inning went very much like his third inning. Three up; three down with nine pitches thrown by Lee.

In the fifth inning, an Amarillo player tried to lay down a bunt. Lee’s split-finger fastball caused the ball to jump off the bat and right into Lee’s glove. The next batter grounded out at first on Lee’s second pitch and the third batter whiffed on two pitches before taking a called strike three.

Three outs with a total pitch count of 35.

As the ‘Cats entered the dugout for the bottom of the fifth inning, the other coaches and players sat apart from Lee as was traditional for a pitcher that was in the middle of a possible no-hitter or perfect game. He understood what was happening and made things easier for everyone by sitting at the end of the bench. Lee noticed that the stands were much fuller than they had been at the beginning of the game. He also began hearing bits and pieces of conversations from people sitting near the dugout.

“Channel 8 interrupted their broadcast to carry the game...”

“ESPN is picking up Channel 8’s feed...”

“The game is going national...”

“... most dominant example of pitching that anyone can remember...”

“... freakish ... it’s blowing up Twitter...”

Lee cleared his mind and focused on the task at hand. He didn’t want to disappoint his teammates. Above everything else in his life right now, Lee wanted to succeed for his team. Other than Sloan, the ‘Cats were all he had left. The team was everything.

Lee had struck out in the third inning and managed to repeat his performance at the plate in the fifth. No Wildcat managed to score in the fifth so at the end of five innings the score remained tied at 0-0.

As the ‘Cats took the field to start the sixth inning, a quietness had descended upon the crowd watching the game. Everyone knew that they were watching something extraordinary. Every pitch in Lee’s arsenal was working. His fastballs were achieving speeds never before seen at any level. The PITCH/FX cameras clocked his fastest pitch at 106 MPH. 106. Miles. Per. Hour.

The Amarillo players were nearly in tears due to their frustrations.

“Hit the ball? I can’t even see the fucking ball!!!” one of the Amarillo players could be heard shouting to his coach.

Out of the corner of his eye, Lee could see a reporter interviewing Sloan and Grady Neal, Gary’s father. He shrugged it off. Sloan was poised and circumspect and would not say anything that she shouldn’t. Grady Neal was a different story. He was one of Lee’s dad’s best friends and a bit of a hothead.

The sixth inning was nearly a repeat of the previous inning. Three up; three down. Six pitches were thrown; one strikeout and two infield pop-ups.

Three out with a pitch count of 41 through five and a half innings.

In the bottom of the sixth, the first two batters for the ‘Cats struck out, but miraculously, the next three hitters were able to get on base. Where they were left stranded as the sixth hitter of the inning struck out. Everyone in the dugout continued to avoid Lee. This was beyond paying homage to a longtime baseball superstition. Everyone on the team knew that they were seeing a once-in-a-lifetime event. Their feelings were awe, tinged with nervousness. How could this be happening at a high school game? Shit like this didn’t even happen in the bigs.

During the last inning of high school regulation play, Lee proved to be even more in control than in the previous innings. His fastballs were eerily accurate. During his warmups, wherever Gary placed his mitt, Lee managed to throw a rocket into the pocket. Three up; three down, only this time, Amarillo tried a new tactic. Every batter tried to bunt. Tried, because when you cannot even see the ball coming, all you can do is face the pitcher, hold the bat at waist level, and pray you catch a piece of the ball. Which every batter managed to do on the first pitch.

And then get thrown out at first.

Three up; three down with a pitch count of 44 through seven innings.

Lee was the leadoff hitter in the bottom of the seventh. He took a swipe at the first pitch and managed to hit a blooper down the third base line. The ball hit a rock or some other foreign object and bounced over the third baseman’s glove, managing to stay fair for a base hit.

The next batter for the Wildcats was Gary Neal, the catcher. He took a called strike before managing to lay a perfect bunt down the first base line, advancing Lee to second before being thrown out at first.

When the next batter came to the plate, Lee took a lead off of second base, and as soon as the ball left the pitcher’s hand, Lee took off for third, sliding into the bag safely, well under the third baseman’s glove thanks to the Amarillo catcher bobbling the ball as he pulled it from the pocket of his mitt.

One out with one man on third.

The next pitch was a fastball right down the center of the plate and the batter went for it, sending the ball deep into right field where the right fielder managed to catch the ball at the warning track. But not before Lee tagged the base and ran home for the Wildcat’s first and only score.

A walk-off win.

At the end of seven innings, the score stood 1-0 in favor of the Wildcats.

The local audience as well as the television audience had watched a star being born.

The game ended with Lee’s teammates swarming him and hugging him. Tears of happiness and congratulations came from everyone as they exulted in the sheer joy that comes with winning a championship. They also knew that they would forever be a part of history thanks to this game.

Lee managed to extricate himself from the crowd and walked a little distance away as he looked past the centerfield fence. He held up his hand and gave a small wave to the lone figure still standing by himself.

The figure dropped his binoculars and gave Lee two thumbs up. The figure was too far away for Lee to see the tears streaming down the man’s face. The pride and love of a father who had just witnessed his son do something extraordinary.

The Wildcats had won the state 6A championship. Lee had pitched a perfect game, throwing a total of 44 pitches. He had faced twenty-one batters; the absolute minimum in a seven-inning game. He had averaged a fraction over 2 pitches per batter.

The game had not only been shown on ESPN and the local ABC affiliate from the fifth inning onward; it had been live-tweeted by reporters. The game had gone viral and major league baseball players from across the country had tuned in to ESPN to watch what was happening in Dallas. Professional baseball players and other athletes and celebrities were re-tweeting the game and were amazed at the kid in Texas.

106 MPH in high school????!!!!???? Who tf is this kid????

Love child of Nolan Ryan and the Big Unit throwing fast af!!!

Reporters were mobbing the team, pelting the coach with questions about Lee Larkin and wanting to throw questions at him. Who was this kid???? And then, “Where is this kid????”

But while no one was looking, the kid had done an Irish exit, leaving hand-in-hand with an auburn-haired beauty and dodging the crowd and the reporters.

Carol Larkin tried to smile politely at the conversation around her. She knew that the other partners were disappointed in her. She had left her husband for a co-worker. And not just a co-worker, but a much younger co-worker who had the reputation of being a player. She also noticed the disapproving looks cast her way from the spouses of the other partners. A woman with loose morals was a danger in the workplace. The wives didn’t trust her around their husbands and the husbands didn’t trust her enough to be alone with her. Eighteen years with BKW Accounting and it looked like her future was in doubt.

If so, her career could be placed on the trash heap that included her marriage and her relationship with her son. Tears sprang to her eyes as she excused herself from the ten-person table to use the restroom to repair her makeup.

‘Have to keep up my looks,’ she thought, cynically. ‘They’re the only thing I have going for me now.’

When she returned a few minutes later, she was surprised to find the table nearly empty. She looked around the dining room and noticed that most of the tables had emptied.

“Where is everyone?” she asked.

“They’re in the bar. Some high school baseball game has everybody all excited,” Barry said, rolling his eyes.

“Shit!” Carol exclaimed. “Ferguson High is playing. I forgot all about that.”

“Doesn’t your son play for Ferguson?” Jeannie Beaumont asked. She was a senior partner at BKW and, until recently had been a staunch supporter of Carol.

“He does, but he’s not playing this year because of the surgery he had last year.”

“Huh. There must be another Larkin playing for Ferguson because that’s who all the hubbub is about,” Jeannie said.

Carol stood up so fast that her chair was knocked backward. She ran towards the bar thinking to herself that there was no way that Lee was playing. If he could not have reached her to tell her that he was playing then her husband would have kept trying to reach her until...

Suddenly, the thought that calling her would be cause for her husband’s arrest popped into her mind. Her husband could not call her. Would never call her again. That thought brought a physical pain to her stomach that caused her to gasp out loud.

“Jesus Christ, it’s only high school,” Barry said with disdain as he stood to follow Carol into the bar area. He had never been an athlete and did not understand what the big deal was. Fucking Texans and their sports.

The bar was packed but was eerily quiet as everyone watched the television. Every screen in the bar had been tuned to the baseball game. It was the top of the seventh and Amarillo was batting. Carol recognized the windup of her lanky son. Everyone in the bar could hear the “pop” as the ball slammed into the catcher’s mitt and the batter just stood there with a confused look on his face. An insert appeared on the screen: 106.2 MPH.

The announcer commented, “According to the Guinness Book of World Records, the fastest pitch ever recorded in the major leagues was in 2010 by Aroldis Chapman at 105.8 MPH. Lee Larkin, a high school senior, just exceeded that by nearly a half mile an hour. And that’s not even the fastest pitch he’s thrown today. That pitch was in the fifth inning and was clocked by PITCH/FX at 106.7. Folks, we are witnessing something extraordinary today.”

The visitor’s half of the seventh inning came to an end and the camera panned around the players, catching Lee sitting by himself in the dugout. The camera cut away to a reporter who was standing next to Sloan and Grady Neal, Gary’s dad.

“I’m here with Sloan Taylor, Lee Larkin’s girlfriend and family friend Grady Neal who also happens to be catcher Gary Neal’s father.

“You must be very proud of your boyfriend,” the reporter stuck the microphone in front of Sloan.

“I am,” she replied. “But not just for this. Lee is the smartest, kindest boy I know. He’s going through a lot right now, but he’s performing with grace and dignity and I love him so much.”

“That’s true love right there. Lee is a lucky guy to have someone like you supporting him.” the reporter smiled. He turned to Grady Neal. “I understand that you are best friends with Lee’s father. We’re a bit surprised that his parents aren’t here to witness this historic performance from their son.”

Grady shook his head. “I probably should keep my mouth shut, but I’m not going to. Sloan said that Lee was going through a lot right now. That’s an understatement. Lee came home early from school a few weeks ago and discovered his mother in bed with a younger co-worker. They didn’t see him but he called his father to come home. When his father got there, he beat the crap out of his wife’s boyfriend who then called the police. They arrested Lee’s dad and now there is a restraining order against him. He has to stay at least 500 yards from his son, his wife, his wife’s boyfriend, and his home.

“So Lee is dealing with all that and then he comes out here and does this...” Grady shook his head in admiration. “But you’re wrong about his parents not being here. At least one of them is. Out past centerfield is his dad. Watching from 500 yards away just like the restraining order requires.”

Carol felt physical pain. In the mirror over the bar, she could see the shame and mortification written on her face. The directors, VPs, and their wives had subtly moved away from her leaving Carol standing alone next to Barry.

“That’s bullshit!” Barry shouted. “He didn’t beat the crap out of me. He got in one lucky punch.”

Everyone in the bar turned to them after hearing Barry’s comment. Carol was having trouble breathing and felt like she was going to pass out. Jeannie took pity on her former protégé and escorted her to the restroom.

“Oh, Jeannie, I have messed things up so badly! I just want to die...”

“That’s all your son and husband need ... to have to deal with a selfish cheater killing herself. You need to suck it up and fix all the damage you’ve caused to the people who love you. If you don’t? I’ll buy you the gun and load the bullets into it myself.”

It was after midnight when Lee finally got home. He tried to be as quiet as possible while opening the front door since he didn’t want to get into it with either his mom or shithead Barry. He was surprised to find his mother sitting on the sofa in the den in her bathrobe, a tissue wadded in her hand. Her eyes were red and she had been crying. A glass of white wine sat next to a bottle on the coffee table in front of her.

‘Great,’ thought Lee to himself. ‘Mom of the Year; weepy and drunk.’ Since he wasn’t going to be able to sneak by her, he tried to ignore his mom as he walked past her.

“Hi baby,” she said.

Lee ignored his mother as he continued towards his bedroom.

“Lee! Please stop and come talk to me.”

“I don’t want to argue with you are him tonight. I just want to go to my room and get some sleep.”

“I heard you played tonight.”

“Yes.”

“You pitched.”

“Yes.”

Carol sighed. Her son was not making this easy on her. “Why didn’t you tell me? I could have been there to support you.”

“You know why I didn’t tell you,” Lee replied. “You wouldn’t have come by yourself. You would have brought your boyfriend with you. I would rather have no one come to support me than have him there smirking at me. And anyway, Dad was there to see me play.”

Carol’s eyes opened widely in surprise. “Your father was there? He violated the restraining order?”

“No, he didn’t violate your precious restraining order. He watched with his binoculars. From 500 yards away,” Lee said with a bitter edge to his voice.

“The restraining order was not my idea,” Carol said softly. “I thought he was going to kill Barry. I have never seen your father so angry and upset.”

“Odd ... I wonder what set him off? Oh yeah, catching his wife in his marital bed with her boyfriend. Go figure...”

“Lee ... I know I’m not your favorite person these days.”

Lee snorted at that. “Ya think?”

“Please, Lee ... I know you’re hurting. I’m hurting too.”

“You’re hurting?” Lee asked, in mock incredulity. “You set fire to our family by cheating on your husband, and then have him arrested and you have the nerve to tell me you’re hurting?!” Lee took a deep breath to calm himself. “Where is shithead Barry anyway?”

Carol looked down at her hands. “You won’t be seeing Barry around anymore. I told him that I didn’t want to see him anymore. Jeannie Beaumont fired him after he called me the c-word in front of the other partners.”

“You flushed your family down the drain and now you have nothing to show for it? Now you can’t even pretend it was this grand romance and that love conquers all.”

“It was never a grand romance. It was a cheap, sleazy affair between a selfish, stupid woman and an opportunistic asshole. The grand romance was what I had with your father. What I set fire to,” Carol said as she sobbed into a tissue.

Lee sat down across from his mother. He leaned forward, his elbows on his knees; hands clasped loosely in front.

“Then why? Why throw us away? If it was because you found your soulmate, I could understand. I still wouldn’t like it, but I could at least understand your motive. But now? You’ve got nothing. No husband. No boyfriend. No son. Nothing.” Lee shook his head, a puzzled look on his face. “What was it all for?”

“It was so that an insecure, vain, selfish woman could prove to herself that she still ‘had it’.” Carol shuddered. “What I proved was that I was not worth the love and affection of the two best men I’ve ever known.” Carol started sobbing again as tears streamed down her face.

“You’re still my mother and I’ll always love you, but I don’t like you very much. I think maybe I should find somewhere else to live for a few months. I can get a dorm assignment at the end of August and move down to Austin. We’ll be out of each other’s hair and you can live your life and do whatever you want with whoever you want.” Lee waved his hand toward his mother’s bedroom for emphasis.

Carol started sobbing harder.

“Mom...” Lee said gently.

Carol reined in her emotions as she looked up at her son.

“Get the restraining order canceled. I want to spend time with my dad.”

Carol nodded as her sobbing restarted.

The baseball team had been directed to report to the locker room at 7:30 the next morning. Lockers had to be cleaned and any equipment that belonged to the school was to be returned. Coach Borden approached Lee as he sat in front of his locker sorting out the contents of his locker.

“Lee, can you see me in my office before you go?” the coach asked.

“Sure, Coach. I’ll be done in five,” Lee said.

After taking his seat in front of the coach’s desk, Lee looked at the coach nervously. Being called into the coach’s office was never a good thing.

Coach Borden reached across his desk to hand Lee a one-inch stack of pink slips of paper.

Lee looked at him in confusion. “Coach?”

“Those are phone messages that were left on answering machines in the principal’s office and the AD’s office. There would have been more but every machine was filled. Every reporter, university Athletic Director, and baseball coach in the country is trying to reach you. No one here has ever seen anything like it. Your disappearing act last night didn’t help. ESPN wanted to talk to you.”