I got ready for my third plate appearance once more.
I know Noah wanted me to foul it off until I could get this pitcher taken out of the game, but I wanted to run it by Coach first.
“Go for it.” Coach gave the green light. “Just know that he won’t be pulled against you even if he hits 110 total pitches.”
“So the limit isn’t really a limit?” Alisha asked from the side. “That’s dumb.”
“It’s a little flexible if it happens when facing a batter.” Sean told her. He looked at me. “Are you going to attack from the right or the left?”
“I can earn a double off the curve like last time.” I told him. “So right.”
“That’s if they don’t walk you.” Garret said, approaching. “They may want this guy to face the rest of us behind you one last time before he’s pulled.”
I sighed. That’s true. I left the dugout with Garret right behind me. We took practice swings as the pitcher warmed up on the mound. My name was announced and the umpire waved me over. I walked around him and the catcher to stand in the righty’s box.
The catcher stayed squatted behind home plate, reassuring me that I at least wouldn’t be intentionally walked. The pitcher nodded, got set, started his motion, then the first pitch came. It drifted inside. The two-seamer. I let it pass for a ball.
My eyelid started to twitch. I had a funny feeling. It could only be confirmed after a couple of more pitches. Two-seamer for a called strike. Two-seamer for a ball. Two seamer foul. Two-seamer in the dirt to make the count full.
I wouldn’t be allowed another curveball I guess. A two-seamer wasn’t impossible to hit but coming inside, it was harder to foul. I didn’t want to foul it off my body like I had done against Rhys last summer. I’m just going to have to commit for the hit and forget the endless fouls to knock this guy out. The only question now is do I pull it down the left field line or try to slice it down the opposite way?
I took a quick look around. The outfielders left both corners fairly opened. Left or right? The next pitch came. Clear two-seamer drifting in. I decided to go with it, smacking a line drive down the left field line. My bat made an unusual sound in the process, and I could see a piece of it go down the line too, just at the third baseman. I hesitated for a second.
“Run! Jake! Run!”
Right. I dropped the rest of my bat and sprinted to first. I rounded the bag, unsure of what I would see. My hit didn’t go as far as I had planned or hoped for, but the left fielder still had to sprint in for it. I decided to go for two. The left fielder threw the ball in, to the shortstop and by the time he turned around, I was safe at second. He called ‘time’ and it was granted.
Some coaches came out of the Eastside dugout, most going to the third baseman and one that looked like the head coach went to the home plate umpire.
The third baseman handed a chunk of wood to his coaches. It had came from my bat.
I felt my face heat up, embarrassed.
After a short discussion, the umpire went to the group and took the piece of wood. He also carefully looked over the infield grass, picking up a couple of smaller pieces. He then walked over to our dugout with all pieces of my bat.
Coach came out. They spoke and Coach was given all the pieces of my bat. The umpire then went back to the other coaches from Eastside and talked some more. About fifteen minutes were wasted before the game was called to resume. But after they signaled for an intentional walk, we hit another long pause. The Eastside coach came back out and signaled pitcher change.
The Blake guy still had like 10 pitches available so I wasn’t sure why they didn’t want him to face Jason. Until I saw the new guy. A lefty. Lefties didn’t necessarily have an advantage over right-handed hitters but it was more prominent at this level because of the different delivery.
Jason got jammed, and hit a grounder to the second baseman. I took off for third and Mr. Miller signaled for me to stay.
“Out.”
“Out!”
A double play. But we finally have a runner on third. Me.
“Gotta run as soon as he makes contact.” Mr. Miller told me lightly.
That was the only advice he could give with Korrey up. Korrey already had two fly outs to the outfield. He added one more to center and the inning ended so simply despite the long stops.
I jogged back to the dugout, helpless.
“Jake.” Coach stopped me. “A minute.”
I took off my helmet and got closer to him. “Yea?”
“You have your spare bats, right?” He looked down at me, kind of intensely.
“I have one good spare left.” I rubbed the back of my head. “And then a questionable bat that I used yesterday and didn’t plan on using it today. Was going to retire it when we get back home.” I looked around for my broken bat. “Did you already throw away my broken one?”
“No. I set it aside for you.” He lowered himself to be more eye-level with me. “Don’t panic. But Eastside has made a formal complaint about your use of wooden bats.”
My heart started to thump.
Coach reached out and held my shoulder. “I clearly pointed out to the umpire that there was no ban against wooden bats in the tournament bylaws. Don’t worry, I checked. The umpire does request that you let him examine your spare before your next at bat though. So make sure you grab the good one. Don’t use one that has a better chance of breaking, understand?”
I slowly nodded. Then swallowed a lump that was forming in my throat. “I’m not in trouble am I?”
“No. Accidents happen.” Coach reassured me.
“What happens if I break another bat?” I squeaked.
Coach frowned. “Do your best to avoid it. But like I said, accidents happen. We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it.” He squeezed my shoulder. “Go grab your glove and take the field.”
I nodded and hurried through the dugout. Most of the guys had already left to take the field.
“You good?” Kyle came over and asked me.
Dave was right beside him. “What did Coach want with you?”
I explained the situation.
“Damn. They’re targeting you.” Dave cursed. “I bet they were just waiting for an opportunity like this.”
I shrugged. “I don’t know how. It’s not like I break bats every game.”
“How’d you break this one?” Kyle asked.
I mimicked my swing. “I only saw the two-seamer and that drifts inside on right-handed batters. And with me pulling it down the left field line, I connected with a thinner part of my bat.”
“Damn.” Dave cursed again.
“Well. He’s out now.” Kyle said. “This lefty looks decent but not unbeatable. Next time around-” he stopped himself. I understood. We didn’t know if there would be a ‘next time around’ for me. We were now in the bottom of the seventh. Unless everyone’s bats get hot next inning…I might be done offensively. I
