Extra Innings - 3. Chapter 3

I’ve heard people say that there are moments of perfect clarity in your life, where everything seems to be moving in slow motion and you realize that this is a moment that you are always going to remember forever, that no matter what happens after that, you will always have a perfect, crystal clear image of what you were doing in the moment. That was how I felt my walk to the stadium was. Carrying my baseball bag and the duffel with my clothes, everything seemed to be going super slowly, like we were all caught in some kind of weird time warp or something sci fi like that.

It was weird, but also sort of comforting. I thought that I would be terrified on the way to the stadium, but I was oddly very calm and serene about the whole thing. Something about the way everything was happening was calming to me, and even the environment around me was helping to soothe things. It hadn’t been a very warm day, and now that we were getting into the evening it was cooling down even more. There was a gentle breeze blowing through the streets on my way, and the shadows were stretching out and creating weird clashes between where there was still warm and sunshine and the cooler shady parts of my walk.

Even though it was getting chilly, I was sweating when I got there, and I’ll admit part of that was because I was carrying two bags and no matter how good physical shape you might be in, carrying two bags full of baseball gear ad clothes is going to make you sweat a bit. It was hitting me that this would be where I would play, and it was breathtaking just to be inside the building as one of the potential players. The stadium was huge compared to where I used to play; you could easily fit all of Colfax into the stadium, with lots of room for more people on top of that. How could you have that many people in one place and not go a little crazy? Even thinking about playing for that many people was a little awe-inspiring, and I hadn’t even done anything yet.

Once I got inside the building, I saw Coach and a crowd of guys, all of whom were carrying bags like mine. There looked like there was around twenty of them, of all different shapes and sizes. I saw Tanner and Enrique, both had put their bags down and were pacing back and forth, along with a few of the other guys who were clearly getting nervous about how many of us there were and how that would impact their chances. There were a few other guys who seemed aloof and like they were sure of themselves, but every once in awhile I’d catch one of them fidgeting and I figured they were just as nervous as the rest of us.

Once the last few stragglers after me came in, Coach called us over and introduced himself to us.

“Alright gentlemen, listen up! I’m Mike Finnegan and I’m the coach here, you guys can just call me Coach. You’re all here because you think you’re good enough to make the Whitman baseball team, and from the looks of you I don’t think many of you will be coming to the second round of tryouts. Having said that, you all get a fair shot and a chance to prove me wrong, so go get changed in the visitors lockers. Leave your duffels if you have them in the locker room, it’ll be locked up during the tryouts. Bring everything else with you. Now get moving!”

Having been told what to do, everyone started moving and dragging all their stuff into the locker room. Once we got there we were shocked at the sheer size of the place, it looked like it could fit teams of forty or more in there without any trouble whatsoever. It was pretty cool that even if this was the last time we’d be in a college locker room, we all have individual stalls and places to put our stuff, just like in the major leagues. Still, this wasn’t the time to get amazed by everything.

I saw the rest of the guys stripping down and getting changed into their stuff, so I figured I should do the same thing. I slung my bag off my shoulder and reached through all of the stuff. I checked to make sure my cup was in my jockstrap, and then stripped out of my shorts and into my jockstrap and grey practice pants. The spandex material was clinging to my ass, and it was sort of frustrating to have that happen before the tryouts began. I was hoping that I wouldn’t be that sweaty until later on in the tryouts, but I guess I was more nervous than I thought I would be. I changed into my black socks and cleats, and then quickly swapped my shirt for my old team jersey. I wasn’t part of the Whitman team yet, so Ijust had to wear my old stuff for now. The last things I grabbed were my hat and glove, and then I put my street clothes inside my duffel bag on the floor. Coach said it’d be locked up so I didn’t worry about anyone taking anything. I did one last check of the locker room just to make sure I had everything, and then I grabbed my baseball bag and waited for the rest of the tryouts guys to be ready.

Once everyone was ready, coach told us to drop our bags in the visitor’s dugout and run two laps. Once we finished, we were to stretch out and then take our usual field positions. It sounded like the first part of the tryouts was going to be pretty easy, just an attempt to see what kind of physical condition we were all in before the season started. I guess taking our field positions was a way of figuring out who would be competing with whom for the spots on the team. Kind of unnerving, but I suppose we’d find out eventually anyway so we might as well get it over with early.

When I stepped out onto the field I took a second just to savour the moment. I had been working towards this since I was a little kid, and now here I was almost on a college team and miles ahead of where I thought I’d be as a player. When I opened my eyes again, I was surprised to see the current members of the team also standing at their usual positions. I had thought they were just going to watch us from the stands or something like that, but I guess they were going to be part of our tryout process as well. That would be interesting to have these upperclassmen help decide who would make the team and who’d be cut. As expected, there were already a large number of guys waiting by the pitcher’s mound, which automatically made me worry about my chances of making the team. I knew baseball teams needed large pitching staffs, but there was a limit to that, and especially in college baseball, so it looked like I might have been asked to tryout simply as a formality, with no chance of actually making the team. Nothing I could do about that except do my best and try not to embarrass myself on the field.

Running and stretching with the two dozen or so other hopefuls wasn’t difficult, but it also wasn’t all that fun. Each of the guys stared at the others, wary about who they would be competing with just to get on the team. Every so often I would glance back at the assembled players watching us run. Most of the players were talking to each other; sometimes one would point at us and the small group would laugh, like the pitchers were continually doing. Except Bryce. I could see that every time I was looking back he was staring at and watching me. I knew it was just me he was watching because we started to separate as we ran, and there wasn’t anyone else around me for him to be looking at. It was that same look he gave me when we first met, like he was trying to analyze me and figure me out with his eyes. I took my mind off of it for now and finished my stretches before taking my place at the pitcher’s mound with the rest of the pitching staff. I noticed that none of the other guys came to join me on the mound, so it looked like I was the only freshman trying to get on the pitching staff. That made me much more relaxed, since that made it a lot more likely that I’d make the team now.

Coach was finally walking out on the field, accompanied by who I figured were the rest of the coaching staff. He instantly got everyone’s attention, so he didn’t need anything to help him be heard.

“Alright boys, here is how tonight is going to work. Each of you is going to have to earn the right to come back to the second round of tryouts. As far as I’m concerned, everyone is off the team until I personally put you back there, and that includes returning players who may have thought last season was acceptable.”

A few of the Whitman players shifted uncomfortably at that. It was no secret that Whitman suffered in the standings in the past few seasons, and it seemed like the coach at least knew who to blame for the last few years of disappointing results. I suppose the thought was that new blood would help turn the team around, and that’s why they were doing open tryouts. I wasn’t too sure what to think about that, but it didn’t matter since all it really meant was that there was more of a chance of getting on the team now that there weren’t any returning members being guaranteed their old positions.

The first thing we did was some basic fielding. Two of the assistant coaches did batting practice with each other and hit to different players in the field. Once a player had cleanly fielded two balls in whatever situation the coach called out from the dugout, the next player at that position swapped in to take the next set. The only positions that didn’t work for were for the pitchers and catchers, and for different reasons; there were too many pitchers, and the catchers didn’t have much actual fielding to do. Instead, the pitchers rotated in after every play and the catchers rotated as the batter told them to.

We cycled through and it was my turn on the mound. I took a ready position and watched towards home plate. Bryce was taking this play and he winked at me before the pitching coach could start his delivery. With a loud crack the batting coach hit a line drive right at me. I barely had any time to react and wasn’t able to move my glove in time to catch the ball. The breath was driven from me and I was seeing stars. I doubled over when the ball hit me in the gut. Luckily, gravity dropped the ball into my glove while I fell over from the pain of having the ball hit into me.

The coaches and a few of the pitchers came to see if I was okay. Even Bryce jogged over to see if I was after taking a shot like that.

“I’m okay, I’m alright” I called out. “It caught me in the stomach. I just need a minute or two to get back on my feet and catch my breath.”

Coach was happy to hear that. “Good, I want to see a bit more of your positional play before you rotate out. Take the next play off and then get back on the hill, unless you’re done with tryouts.”

I nodded and slowly stood up, with everyone clapping that I was able to recover so quickly. I stayed crouched down to recover, but soon enough I was back on the mound getting ready for the next play to begin. People like to think that pitchers just stand on the mound once they’ve thrown the ball, but there’s actually a lot of running around that’s done to make sure plays are covered in case of an overthrow or some other error. Everyone was relieved when the coach signalled that we were done with this part of the tryouts.

The pitchers and catchers were separated after that and then split into two groups; half going to the home bullpen and half to the visitor’s bullpen in order to show off our stuff to the coaches. My group went with Coach to the home bullpen, while Bryce was catching for the other group and the pitching coach. When we had all assembled in the bullpen Coach asked each of us some of our basic pitching statistics such as what pitches we threw and our top speed. When Coach pointed at me to reply I tried to sound confident in myself.

“Fastball, slider, split finger and changeup. Top recorded speed, eighty-one miles per hour.”

Coach nodded, and he gestured for me to take my place on the right side mound in the bullpen. I took a few moments to adjust the dirt and everything to my liking. It’s superstitious, but everything has to be exactly the way I like it or else I don’t do very well pitching. The landing spot for my foot has to be soft, but not too soft and not too low. The dirt next to the rubber also has to be pretty soft so I can pivot off the foot, and it can’t have any big divots in it or else I’ll trip and hurt myself.

I didn’t do that once. I was pitching at some school a few towns over, and I didn’t set up the mound the way I like it before I started pitching the first inning of the game. I didn’t think there was going to be anything wrong with it, but there was a divot in the dirt where I was pushing off from, and my foot slipped. I ended up spraining my ankle and having to take the rest of that week off. It definitely could have been worse, but now I always make sure to go through my little routine and get the mound set. It was also a good way of trying to settle my nerves, and considering how important these next few pitchers were going to be for my baseball future, I could do with a bit of relaxation right about now.

Once everything was set I settled into the mound and waited for coach to tell me what pitch to throw. Partly this was to see what I could do with each of my pitches, but it was also so the catcher knew what was coming since he wasn’t giving me the signs this time like he normally would in a game situation.

The catcher set the target low and away on a right-handed batter. I loved that kind of pitch selection, and instinctively knew that the first pitch coach would ask for would be the slider to the outside corner of the plate. Everyone else had started with fastballs, but the positioning of the catcher seemed out of place for that. When coach did call for the slider, I smiled and it dawned on me that I might just be good enough to do this after all. I went into my delivery and tried not to overthrow the ball because I learned that trying too hard can actually make the ball do things you don’t want it to do while its in transit.

Instead of being around a potential batter’s knees, my pitch was belt high, right where a battler is hoping it’ll be so he can send it on a long trip out of the park. I grimaced; less than a foot of difference between my target and where I actually threw the ball, but I knew this wasn’t going to be seen as a good thing by the coach. I caught the ball thrown back to me by the catcher and reset myself on the mound, waiting for the next pitch to be called.

A fastball this time, probably to give me a chance to settle in a bit instead of pushing me too hard this early in the tryouts. Same target location, so this time I felt I’d do a bit better. Coach pulled out a speed gun to time my pitches as well, which I had seen him using for the other pitchers who went before me. I needed to shake that off and get inside my head instead of focusing on the distractions around me. It was funny. Lots of athletes say they hate being in their own heads when they’re competing because it psyches them out. I was thinking the same thing about being distracted by everything else around me.

Better this time, I was much closer to the mark and I could feel my nerves melting away as I got settled into my groove. I finally figured out what people meant when they said something just needed to settle into the groove. That’s exactly what it felt like I was doing right now in the tryouts, and what better time to get into a good rhythm and performing at my best than when everything I did was being judged. The only thing I could say that I wasn’t too proud of was my bad start and a couple of the later pitches when I was getting tired. I had to remember that college pitchers pitched far more than high school kids could, so building up my stamina would be a big thing if I did get on the team.

I was one of the last guys to be looked at by coach tonight, so I waited with the other pitchers who finished once I completed everything coach wanted to see from me. The guys would occasionally point something out that they saw in the new pitcher’s delivery, so I was wondering if they were saying similar things about my pitching, but I suppose I could always ask them to come work with me once the tryouts were over, either as teammates or just as fellow Whitman students.

Once tryouts were over everyone showered in the locker rooms and changed back into their street clothes. When I got back to my room I could throw everything into the residence laundry that was being covered as part of my living fees. I walked out of the locker room with all my stuff and took a moment to look around the inside of the stadium… hopefully soon my home stadium. I was so lost in the moment that I didn’t notice that I was daydreaming until someone tapped me on the shoulder.

I shook my head and turned to look at who was trying to get my attention. Much to my surprise it was Bryce!

“Hey Bryce, that was something in tryouts eh, how did things go with the pitchers you were working with? I guess those are all your old teammates there too, so you must have seen a lot of stuff you were used to with them, right?”

“Yeah, Coach started last year’s tryouts the same way. He thinks it’s a good way of weeding out the people who aren’t serious about being on the team. Not sure why he bothers, he’s gotta have enough guys, and as you saw there wasn’t a huge lineup to join the team or anything this year. You did pretty good from what I heard, hopefully you keep playing the way you did today and you’ll make the team. I think Coach was pretty impressed that you got back on your feet so quickly”

Bryce gave me a really big smile. I was a bit surprised by that, but he looked like he had more to say.

“So listen, a couple of the guys and I were gonna head on over to the frats tonight to party, you should come with us. It’s First Rush tonight so there’s going to be lots of other freshmen there, and maybe you’ll see something you like.”

Me in a fraternity, now there was an interesting thought. I didn’t know the first thing about fraternities, but I suppose Vincente was right and I did need to start meeting more people if I was going to be living on the campus for the next eight months, and hopefully for the next four years. Besides, it wasn’t like there was anything too awful that was going to happen, it was just a campus party, and it sounds like the fraternities have done this sort of thing before.

“Sure, that sounds pretty cool. I never even thought about joining a fraternity before, anything I should know before I go to the party tonight?”

Bryce looked surprised by my statement.

“You’ve never thought about joining? You should really consider it man, there’s all sorts of things you can learn and get from the fraternities, but someone will explain it all to you tonight. Just try to be there by about ten or so. Coming any earlier than that would be pointless, no one’s going to be there except for the guys setting up.”

“Alright.” I replied. “I guess I’ll just meet you there around ten Thanks for letting me know about the party.”

Bryce smiled at me and then wandered off, probably back to his own dorm so that he could get stuff taken care of before the party. I checked my watch and it said it was just after eight, so I had a bit of time to kill before I should head over. I started walking back to my residence, and I noticed that none of the other baseball players or hopefuls lived in the same residence as me, or at least no one was heading there right away. I did see a few guys heading over to the dining halls, so it was possible they were just grabbing a bite to eat before they went back to the dorms. If it were me, I’d drop my stuff off first, but they’re obviously not too worried about it.

When I got back I dropped my dirty baseball clothes into one of the washing machines and slid my student card into the reader. I remember being told that I was allowed a certain number of washer and dryer uses for each semester, but I didn’t remember how many it was in total. I’m sure if I wanted to know I could go find someone on campus that had that kind of information. Considering it was still the first week of the semester, I was pretty sure I’d be okay for tonight.

Once I was back in the room I decided to change my clothes before going out for dinner. Vincente was working on some project at his desk so I didn’t bother him, I just stopped long enough to say hello and ask if he was going to the same party, which he wasn’t because he wanted to get some work out of the way before the weekend. It was getting chilly now that the sun was setting, so I swapped out my shorts for some dark blue jeans and a polo shirt instead of the t-shirt I had been wearing. Once I was all set, I went to go grab some dinner. The dining halls were still serving dinner when I got back to eat, and I grabbed some of the lasagna and sat to enjoy the food. It wasn’t as good as the stuff at home, but it was pretty filling and I was glad to have it after tryouts.

I figured it would be easier just to walk to where the fraternities were instead of going back to my room first. It was a good decision to change into warmer clothes; it was getting breezy and cooler now that the sun had set. On my way to where all the fraternities had their housing buildings, I saw someone waving at me.

“Hey Devin! Hey, hurry it up, you’re gonna be late!” It was Bryce, wearing a fraternity polo shirt and carrying a few bags of snack food.

I ran to catch up with him and his buddies, not expecting him to already be on his way.

“Hey Bryce, have you already gone to the fraternity party already? What’s with the shirt, are they for everyone?”

“Hahaha, nice joke Devin. I’m in Phi Delta Theta. I thought I told you that last week. Anyway, we’re all just on our way back to the party, you should come with us.”

I didn’t remember anyone saying that, but who knows, it was certainly possible that he told me. The other two guys seemed pretty cool, they were mostly just watching me interact with Bryce and seeing what kind of small talk we would come up with. The four of us walked back towards the frats, and I started thinking about what the rest of the night was going to have in store for me.