Extra Innings - 23. Chapter 22

The first home game of the season is always the best attended. I should know, I was in the stands for it, right after I was attacked. It should have been the best moment of my year to take the field for warm up and the first pitch with the rest of the team, but because I was injured, I couldn’t even be on the bench and suit up. So I went to watch, crowding in with everyone else from the school to watch and cheer the team on. Nothing hurt as much as knowing that I was only feet away from the dugout, but that I couldn’t be there.

This was my home opener. Williamette University was across the border in Oregon, so the game even felt more important; it was the first time I’d be playing a team from another state. The game wasn’t at the start of the season or anything like that, and the rest of the team had already long since gotten over their jitters. Still, it was a surreal moment for me to take the field and warm up. Throwing in the home field dugout; finding my gear in the third base dugout with the rest of the home team. I hadn’t thought much about the cubbyholes in the back, but I checked them. My name was on one. A small name piece in the back of the hole signifying that this was where my stuff belonged. This was my season now. I knew this was my team.

It was going to be a long weekend. There weren’t very many weekday games, so we ended up having to do two games on both Saturday and Sunday. It put a strain on the pitching staff, since there were only so many pitchers on the team and you couldn’t seriously ask starters to go more than once in a weekend. Maybe that was why I was still here, to help pick up an inning here and there in my first year, that way a starter doesn’t have to go that much further and everyone can recover more quickly.

I stayed with the pitching staff, not knowing what else to do. We threw and warmed up with the rest of the team, helping throw the batting practice to help the fielders and batters prepare for the game. This, at least, was something I remembered from high school. The tennis balls were a nice touch. Throwing whiffle balls was a special kind of hell, and I was glad that I wouldn’t have to deal with them in college.

The one downside to pitching at Borleske Stadium? There’s absolutely no walls or anything separating the bullpen from the rest of the field. I mean, it was nice to have a view of the field that wasn’t blocked by anything, but at the same time it meant you didn’t have a wall or anything protecting you from stray foul balls. Probably better that way, meant we had to focus on the game and not on anything else that might have been going on in our lives. Besides, I could learn a lot by watching, and I was having fun being part of the team again and having this moment.

Luke was starting for us. I could see why he was our ace. Luke was tall, and a lot of it was in his legs. He was able to take incredible strides towards the plate before he had to throw. Everything about Luke screamed that he was simply going to overpower you with his pitching. I’m sure the batters could pick up on it, and I caught the first batter shifting back in the batter’s boxes before taking their at bats.

So I was completely thrown off guard when Miles mixed things up a bit after the first pitch and Luke threw this slow moving curveball. Luke must have taken about twenty miles an hour off the pitch; the poor batter nearly corkscrewed himself into the dirt. Not that it would have helped, since Luke’s curve dropped at least a foot. I was going to have to seriously reconsider what Luke said and make sure I pay attention to everyone when we’re practicing from now on. I should have known that he had pitches like that in his repertoire, even though we’re not supposed to throw them too much in practice.

The first few innings were a treat to watch as both pitchers dominated their time in the field. It was clear that the pitcher and catcher for Williamette had worked together in the past, and that they knew exactly what pitch to call for any given situation. We couldn’t get any kind of read off of him, and their batters weren’t getting any lucky breaks off of Luke either.

Near the fifth inning, I could see that Luke was starting to tire. He wasn’t as controlled and was throwing more balls than strikes. That’s when we got the signal to start warming up. Bryce put his mask on and two of the other pitchers were told to start warming up. I was jealous. This was my first game here, I should get a chance to at least warm up and give myself a chance to get into the game. I knew I wouldn’t be closing either. A big, tall senior named Diego told me that he was the team’s closer for the year, and most of us in the bullpen were either the other starters or relief pitchers like me. The fact that I hadn’t gotten called up to warm up right now meant I probably wasn’t going to see any of the game.

It’s hard to be in the bullpen and know you’re not going to play that day. You still want to be excited and cheer on your team from the distance, but part of you keeps wondering why you weren’t the one the call was for. Especially since I hadn’t been on the field yet or gotten any playing time at all.

Coach did say you weren’t going to get much playing time this year, and that was before you went and got yourself stabbed in the arm. What did you expect? Be lucky you’re here at all, and try to learn something.

After Luke left the game and joined the main team in the dugout, Bryce came to sit next to me.

“You’ll get a chance, you know. We need this game, and its close enough that we can still win it.”

I hated the implications and let him know it.

“So what, you’re saying I can’t be trusted to pitch unless we’re winning or losing by a lot?” I snapped. “I didn’t stay on the team to be the pity case that gets thrown in once the game’s long since over with. I came to play.”

Bryce gestured around to everyone else in the bullpen, all of whom were staring at us.

“They’re all waiting for a chance to play as well. Do you see them complaining that they’re not the star of the game today? No! Everyone on the team contributes in a different way. This is your first game, but it’s not ours, so you need to get over this quickly, because we’re not going to listen to it for long.”

Bryce’s comments rocked me back on my heels. I hadn’t thought he’d talk to me like that, but I turned to face him, I caught sight of the other pitchers around me. No one seemed to be impressed with what I’d been saying, and a few of them were giving me dark looks, as though I’d said something wrong. Maybe I had, but it was frustrating to be sitting around when I knew everyone else had taken to the mound at some point already.

“Look. I get it. Everyone wants to play. You yourself said that Coach wasn’t going to play you much this year because you’re a freshman and you’re still developing. I don’t know why you’re so bent out of shape when you knew this was coming. Settle down. There’s still three other games this weekend, and this game isn’t over yet either.” Bryce said.

Bryce turned away and walked back to sit with the rest of the bullpen, leaving me to stew on my own as the game continued on. It was a close game, and it was clear that pitching was going to be the deciding factor. Watching Luke get pulled after six innings, and a succession of relief pitchers for both teams gave me a bit of home, but when we finally got to the ninth inning and were leading by just one run, I knew I wouldn’t be seeing the ball today. I resigned myself to the fact that I was going to be a bystander in the game, and hoped that we could hold on.

With two out left in the game, Williamette had runners in scoring position, and Ryan was looking stressed out. I knew he was only a year older than me, but he looked somewhat younger than his age, and right now he was looking like he’d rather be anywhere else than on the mound right now. It was a high stress situation, and not one that I’d want to be in right now either. We’d been on a bit of a losing skid lately, and it’d be nice to turn the tide at home.

Worst of all for us, this was the cleanup hitter for Williamette. They were eager, and the sounds of their bench was able to filter its way over to us here in the far side dugout. Williamette clearly thought they had the situation under control and could steal this game out from under us.

With two out, Ryan wasn’t likely to focus on the runners, since anything hit out of the infield was going to score them both anyways, and anything in the infield would probably end the game anyways. There wasn’t much more to do except get something in play and see what happens.

The first pitch was high and outside. Miles had to jump up to catch it and prevent a wild pitch. Williamette’s fans roared their approval, and Ryan looked shaken. I could see Coach down at the other end, tensing, wondering if he should go up for a chat to calm him down.

That’s when the phone rang. Coach Caleb went to grab it. He nodded and responded a few times, and then hung up. What he said after shocked me and everyone else in the bullpen.

“Williams, get loose. Fisher, get him ready. No time to delay boys, Coach wants you read in case Chao loses it up there.”

I jumped up and ran over to the warm up mound. Looking back, I could see from here that Ryan wasn’t holding up well, and he was getting further into the count. That’s when I saw Coach call a time out and head to the mound for his first coach’s meeting. Coaches could take one time out to go see their pitchers, and then a second visit was only to relieve the pitcher from the game. Ryan nodded, and he looked like he was setting himself.

Bryce got to the other end of the bullpen and I started throwing to him to loosen up. It’d been a couple of hours since I had thrown anything, so I needed to quickly get myself loosened up so I could practice some throws on the mound. With Coach Caleb pushing us to go faster, I was on the hill earlier than I would have liked, and I was throwing to Bryce. My movements were jerky today, like I wasn’t fully in control of my body.

This is what I wanted, so why am I freaking out now that the call has come through? Maybe it’s true what people say, that there’s a big difference between high school and college sports, and it’s not only about the difference in skill level.

I took a deep breath before throwing the next pitches. Things were starting to settle back down, and I could feel my heart rate lowering to something that was closer to normal for me. Slowing down a bit also made my pitches better, and that helped calm me down even more. After a few more pitches Bryce jogged over, and I thought that meant that he and Caleb thought I was ready to go.

I turned to see Ryan’s pitch. Bases were loaded and since everyone went on the pitch, it must have been a full count as well. The sharp crack of the bat against the ball assaulted my ears, and my eyes trained themselves on the ball. It was deep, I could see Grady sprinting to keep pace with it. He was getting close to the wall. The ball still wasn’t coming down. I thought it was over. Grady was at the wall now. In desperation, Grady tried to jump the wall, reaching his glove up as high as he could.

I turned away and closed my eyes, knowing that the game would either be over soon, or we’d be in a terrible situation trying to claw back the lead in the bottom half of the inning.

The roar of the crowd told me everything that I needed to know. I turned back towards Grady and he lifted his glove in the air triumphantly. I wasn’t sure how, but he’d managed to make the catch and steal a home run from Williamette. The game was over, and while it meant I wouldn’t be pitching in this game, it did at least mean that we’d stopped our losing streak.

I was happy we won, but part of me did wish that I had gotten a chance to play in a game situation. I kept my thoughts to myself this time and joined in the celebration, high fiving Ryan and helping the team carry him off into the locker room for a debrief before our second game of the day.

Once everyone was back inside the lockers and the celebrations had died down somewhat, Coach Finnegan and the rest of the staff called us together.

“Alright gentlemen, that was a gutsy performance. Don’t forget we have another game in half an hour. Grab some food and get yourselves ready, we’ll be back on the field for 4pm sharp. You have got to focus more near the end of the game. We play hard for 27 outs on the field, not 21. That almost cost us the game. Pick it up and focus all the way through in the second game.”

The coaches left to head upstairs and figure out what would be happening next. The pitching staff already knew that it would be Carson starting the next game; like most college teams we’d created a formal rotation for our starters so that they were able to get the rest they needed. Or at least that they got some rest as opposed to having to pitch multiple times in a weekend. Carson and Bryce ate quickly and left to go warm up before the game.

I had brought a sandwich with me from the dining hall before I’d come to the game. It wasn’t all that good, but it was healthier than some of the other options, and it wasn’t going to be too filling for me, so I didn’t have to worry about getting sluggish later on in the second game. Everyone else started to finish eating and head to wherever we were supposed to be on the field at this point in time. I wandered back to the bullpen, quietly thinking to myself about how close I’d been to getting into my first college game.

It was so unfair! To be so close and yet still not able to get on the field was even worse than not getting a call at all. At least now I knew that the coaches were at least willing to let me have a shot at some point, which was better than nothing. It gave me a bit of hope that I might see some pitching time in the afternoon game, or else tomorrow during our second double-header of the weekend against Boise State.

I took a seat on the bench with the rest of the pitchers, most of whom still looked a little miffed at me and shifted away a bit when I came to join them. The only one who wasn’t acting cold towards me was Miles, but then he was catching when I went on my little rant.

“Nice game behind the dish Miles.”

“Thanks dude. Saw you warming up, you’ll get a chance soon. Don’t sweat the little stuff man.”

I knew he was trying to be nice, but this wasn’t what I wanted to hear right now. I nodded an acknowledgement of what he said and went back to watching the game. Carson looked dominant up there. While he didn’t have Luke’s big fastball, he was a lot more of a tactical pitcher and he mixed it up with a lot of junk. The change clearly caught Williamette off guard, and they were having a difficult time adjusting to the change in pitching style.

Unfortunately, our batters weren’t doing much better, and it was becoming another big pitcher’s duel. The game was going by much faster than our first game, and while I could see that a lot of the players were starting to get tired, no one seemed to be making any big mistakes that ended up costing their teams.

We finally got a big break in the bottom of the seventh inning. It’d been a quiet, quick game up until that point, and I could imagine that the fans were waiting for something to happen. Bryce was up to bat. There was only one out, but nobody on base. Williamette had kept their starter in this long, and he had been dominant up until this point. I couldn’t tell what he did wrong, but it looked like he tried to sneak in some junk and it hung out. Bryce wasn’t fooled and seemed to be waiting for it, and he crushed it deep to right field.

Everyone in the dugout and the bullpen stood up, trying to track the ball. When it was clear Bryce hit it out of the park, the whole stadium exploded in cheers. I didn’t even know we had them, but fireworks started going off to celebrate the home run.

I wished I was in the main dugout to celebrate with Bryce. Instead I had to settle for celebrating with the bullpen. The whole dugout poured out to meet Bryce at home plate. As soon as he touched the plate, team members started slapping him on the back, helmet and butt. I had a small moment of jealousy before I remembered this was typical baseball behaviour, and there was nothing to worry about.

Immediately after, another call came down from the dugout. Caleb picked up and dealt with the call.

“Williams, back up for warm up. Jenkins, get him and Chao ready to go.”

Interesting. I was warming up next to our closer.

Ryan seemed to have calmed down after the close save earlier this afternoon, and he was a lot more poised during warm up. Miles was a good catcher and kept both of us loose and ready to go at a moment’s notice. I guess my coming up to throw meant that I was going in for the eighth inning, and then Ryan would take on the ninth like last game.

Ryan and I kept warming up. It was hard, having to share one catcher and I was hoping that meant next year we’d have more than one extra catcher so we didn’t have to sit idle like this. We kept looking over our shoulders back towards the action. As long as we were at bat, we knew we wouldn’t be needed, but unfortunately we quickly got ourselves put back in the field.

Once I was warmed up enough, I took a seat down with the rest of the pitchers, waiting to see if I’d be called up. Carson was starting to struggle, and he walked the first batter. That prompted Coach Finnegan to come up for a chat. Carson seemed to settle down a bit, but it looked like he was labouring to get through the batter. Another call came, and I knew what it meant. It was time. As soon as Carson finished the batter, I’d be going up next.

Carson got a swinging strike out on a bad pitch, but it was good enough. He barely waited for Coach Finnegan to pull him before he went off into the dugout, and I knew the trainers would be icing him up and getting him ready for tomorrow already. Caleb nodded at me, pointing at the mound. I nodded back and started jogging from the dugout.

I strode out onto the mound for the first time as a college athlete. I could hear the announcer calling my name and the cheers of the friendly crowd, but I couldn’t really understand or hear what they were saying. it was all white noise that I wasn’t able to make out. I didn’t need to. I knew what it meant and I was ready to go. Better still was that Coach and Bryce were waiting for me on the mound. I could feel both of them radiating support for me, and the smile I got from Bryce knew that I was going to be okay.

I got the ball from Coach and he walked back to the dugout. I took a few moments to do some groundskeeping on the mound and to gather my thoughts before starting to pitch. The base umpire walked over and reminded me of the situation, not that I needed to know where we were in the game at this point.

Once Bryce and the batter were settled in, I took the sign and settled into my stretch. Taking a quick glance over on my left to check on the runner, I saw his lead wasn’t very large and turned my attention back on the batter. My step forward felt clean and I threw the ball comfortably, trusting my mechanics to carry it forward. The batter didn’t react as I threw it outside, which I never normally do on a left-handed batter.

Bryce threw the ball back to me and I reset myself on the hill. I took a new set of signs from Bryce and checked the runner again. Something didn’t feel right under my foot so I stepped back off the mound and broke my stance. The runner stepped back towards first, thinking I was trying to pick him off, but I circled around the mound and set myself up again.

This time I chose to ignore the runner and threw. I misjudged the throw and left it high in the zone, and not checking the runner ended up being a mistake; he was running on the pitch. The batter swung at the high strike, trying to protect the runner and he caught a piece of it, sending it far out of play behind home plate.

A 1-1 count certainly made me feel more comfortable, especially after missing the fact that the runner had taken a bigger lead that I should have noticed. Or I would have noticed, had I actually taken the time to look over and check him.

I should try and pick him off. Looks like they’re trying a hit and run on us. If I’m good, I might get the runner and make things easier for myself.

I set myself back on the mound and took new signs from Bryce. This time my feet were closer together to make it easier for me to try my pick play towards first base. I hated the play because I was nearly throwing blind towards the base, but I’d practiced it often before I’d gotten injured, so I hoped that it would work. My right leg stepped back a fraction of a second before my left leg started turning towards first base. As I was turning, I rotated my body to bring me into a better position to throw the ball towards Taylor.

The moment I felt my left cleat contact the ground I shifted my weight forward and brought my arm around, whipping it around and throwing the ball towards first base.

The throw was off target and Taylor had to scramble to keep the ball in front of him. I should have realized that I didn’t need to actually pick the guy off, holding him closer to the bag would be good enough for now. I also should have taken into account the fact that the sun was in Taylor’s eyes, so he had no idea what was coming towards him, and that mean I should have tried something a bit less risky for my first career pickoff move. Still, no harm done, and I set myself back on the mound thinking that the runner was going to be less of a threat.

I stepped back into my set, and glanced over at the runner. I wasn’t going to make that mistake more than once. Seeing that he wasn’t going anywhere, I took a deep breath and broke my stride towards home. Normally my slider cuts down and away on a right handed batter. This time it hung up in the strike zone. This was a mistake, and I paid for it instantly. The batter drove it hard, but he didn’t get his timing perfectly right, so he fouled it off along the first base side.

I took a deep breath in relief, knowing that I got away with a bad pitch there. Still, I could get a little relaxed and set my pitch up properly this time. Pitcher’s count here; one ball and two strikes, I could mess around a bit. Bryce seemed to think that I needed to work the count a bit more, which I probably did. I couldn’t rely on blowing the ball by these guys, so I’d have to do something a bit trickier with my pitching.

Taking a deep breath, I could see that Bryce wanted another slider, thinking that the next one would work better than that last one did. I didn’t think this was a good idea. The batter had to be getting used to it now, and if I was too predictable then they’d just wait on the pitch and crush it. I shook my head at Bryce. He repeated some new signs. It was still a slider. I shook him off a second time, and he called time.

Bryce marched up to the mound, and I was standing there waiting for him, ready to stand my ground.

“You’re blowing off my signs. This is your first game, what do you think you’re doing? You don’t have any reason to be shaking me off right now. This looks bad Devin, what do you think you’re doing?” Bryce quietly said to me.

“I think I’m stopping you from making a mistake.” I whispered back. “This guy’s going to sit there and wait for the slider, and then crush it. I can already see he’s waiting for it. Especially after that last one hung. Call something else Bryce, he’s going to crush it otherwise.”

“Throw the called pitch Devin. Don’t screw around on your debut.”

He left to go back to the plate and set himself up again. I took a short walk around the mound and settled myself back in to get the sign from Bryce. He still wanted the slider.

Fine, you want the slider? You’ve got it. Don’t come looking at me if it goes to hell.

I changed my grip inside my glove so that I was holding onto the ball with both my index and middle finger along the seam. I had been hoping that Bryce would call something else, but if he wanted a slider then here we would go. I took a breath and came to my set, hoping that this would work.

As my trailing foot made contact and I steadied myself for the coming play, I could see that I was right. The batter was waiting and he was smiling as he recognized the coming pitch. The batter twisted and swung, making great contact with the ball. The ball was shot right at me, and with split-second timing I waved my glove at it, hoping to try and catch it while protecting myself from being hit.

I felt the ball hit my glove and I squeezed tight, ignoring the pain I was feeling in the palm of my hand from catching it with the wrong part of my glove. Once I was sure the ball wasn’t going anywhere, I turned to see if I could catch the runner back at first base, but he hadn’t had much more time than I had to react to the hit. I threw it hard to Taylor anyways, hoping that I might beat the runner back to the base.

“Safe!” The umpire called out.

It was a good try, but Taylor threw it back and I walked back to the mound to face our next batter. I ignored the look on Bryce’s face, knowing that he was telling me that he knew what he was doing. He did not. We all got lucky that I swiped my hand through the air at the right moment. That could have been a very dangerous situation for the team if I had missed that ball.

With two out, I turned my attention back to the new batter. I still didn’t totally trust the calls Bryce was making, but I felt like I didn’t have any choice but to listen this time. He did call it right last time, so I couldn’t justify trying to ignore him a second time. A two strike fastball up and in ended the inning. Once the team got back to the dugout I got a slap on the shoulder from Coach Finnegan.

“Good job out there son. Grab your jacket and ice it down, you’re done for today.”

I was a bit disappointed that I’d only lasted two batters before my pitching debut was over, but I did what I had to do. The team was in a good position to win, and I didn’t do anything to hurt their chances. I grabbed my warmup jacket from the dugout cubby and pulled it over me. It was a thin windbreaker, but it served to help keep me warm and let the muscles stay warm after throwing.

In the bottom of the eighth we built a bigger lead for ourselves, and that was enough to secure us the win. A 3-1 final was more than we deserved, but it was a pair of good games and we needed the good news if we wanted to keep our playoff hopes alive for the season. Tomorrow we’d have another tough couple of games against Boise State, and we needed to at least get a split out of those games if we wanted to keep our slim hopes alive.

Most of the team decided to go shower up and head off-campus to grab a bite to eat. By that, I knew they were actually going to end up drinking a bit at the bar, and then come home without getting too drunk. Coach knew some of us drank, and he said as long as we were still able to play our best it wouldn’t bother him too much, but show up hungover and he’d bench you for the rest of the year. We all believed him, so those who did go drinking always made sure that it wasn’t overdone.

I didn’t feel like leaving campus, so I showered and changed, then made my way back towards the dining hall to grab some late dinner. It was already after 7 when we finished our second game, and I was hungry from the two games we’d played. Even though I only had a small part to play, I was happy with my performance. Something I always did with Dad after each game was go over what could have been done better, and I was sad that this was the first time in years that I wasn’t able to do that. I didn’t expect to feel homesick after all this time, but I didn’t realize how much I enjoyed that little part of getting to talk to Dad after each game and hear him talk about how I did. It made me realize that he was always watching me, and paying enough attention that he could remember individual plays even more than I could, even though I’d been the one playing.

I sat in the dining hall, picking away at my chicken and thinking about home when I heard someone walk up beside me.

“This seat taken?”

I looked up and Bryce had followed me to come eat. I guess he’d seen me head off alone and decided to come with me, but didn’t want to talk to me on the walk here for some reason. More likely is he showed up and saw me and decided to come visit.

“No, go on.”

Bryce sat down with his own chicken and started cutting into it.

“You know, you played well right? You don’t have to sit alone and look all mopey and shit. You didn’t get pulled because you were doing badly, you got pulled because Ryan’s our closer. That’s what he does, and he’s usually good at it. Its got nothing to do with you at all.”

Great, he thought I was depressed about being pulled. He really does think that I’m being mad about my lack of playing time again, but then I hadn’t given him any reason not to think that way.

“That’s not… look, Bryce. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have gotten fed up. I know what it means to be on a team. I’m frustrated because everyone else has had months of playing time already, and our season is almost over now. I wanted to at least get some playing time, and I would have without my injury. That’s why I was upset earlier, but it’s not why I’m down right now.”

Bryce nodded and I kept talking, more for myself than for him or for anything else,

“After every game, I used to talk to my Dad about everything that happened in the game. It was his way of showing he was proud of me, I guess. I was thinking about how I wouldn’t be able to do that this year, or any of the next few years I suppose since he couldn’t exactly drive up here to watch a couple of games.”

I laughed, thinking how silly I sounded.

“The first time I get homesick is right after helping win the second game of the day for our team. God, that’s sad. I must sound ridiculous.”

Bryce put his hand on my arm and squeezed.

“You don’t sound crazy at all. You sound like someone who’s had a long tradition that he suddenly can’t do, and it’s made you realize how much you enjoyed that tradition. But that’s what college is about, getting rid of some of the old things and starting new traditions instead. You’ll find a new way to decompress after each game, but not if you wander off alone and eat in the dining hall by yourself.”

Bryce and I ate the rest of our meals in silence, and he left shortly after to head back to the fraternity. I dropped my stuff off at home, saying hello to Vincente before going for a late evening walk. I don’t know why, it seemed like the right thing to do, even though I got attacked walking around at night before.

Tonight was quieter, and it was warming up as well. I kept my team windbreaker on and wandered through campus, not really going anywhere in particular but wanting to keep moving anyways. By the time I got back to the dorm, it was almost 10 and it was getting close to time for bed.

When I signed in at reception to say I’d come home, the woman told me to head up to my room, I had people waiting for me. This was unexpected, so I ran back to the second floor. When I opened the stairwell door and peered down the hall, I saw two uniformed police officers waiting for me there. This couldn’t be a good thing…