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Chapter 83 Game One: Villa Park 3

"Like in warmups!" I heard Zeke call from the dugout. Right. Be consistent. I was practicing bunting as a righty earlier, so I might as well go to the righty’s box. I got in and noticed right away that first and third were playing in, while second and short were not far away from the pitcher. Noah was right to say that their guys were studying us in warmups.

I left the first pitch pass by for ball one. I took a quick step out and peeked at Zeke who was in the hole. He was ready with his helmet on, and bat in his hands. He didn’t give any signs so I guess I should just stand here. I got back in the box and pretended to show bunt. First and third looked ready.

The pitcher threw high and I withdrew my show-bunt. "Ball. 2-0." The ump called from behind the catcher.

The catcher stood up and threw the ball back. "Relax! There’s nothing to worry about." He glanced down at me, making me nervous.

I quickly stepped away and looked at Zeke. He was rubbing his nose. He must believe the next pitch would be in the strike zone and wanted me to foul. I got back in the box and studied the pitcher. He wasn’t as tall as the twins and not as scary looking either. There’s nothing to fear. The third pitch came. Such an easy one. I delayed my swing and fouled it down the first base line towards coach Luis.

My team dugout cheered for me. Startled, I looked back at them and they were all clapping like I got a hit.

"Nice swing Bambi!"

"Good eye!"

"Work it!"

Uh. Maybe this is a part of Zeke’s plan? Or did the guys think that was my best attempt at hitting a live pitch? Zeke rubbed his nose. I gave a slight nod and got back in the box.

"2-1." The ump got in position.

The pitcher nodded at the catchers sign and got set. I focused on his motion, throw, and watched the ball. It was close. It could be a ball, but also be called a strike. Zeke said to foul anyways, so I tipped it back.

It smacked the catcher in the mask. "Shit!" The ball bounced away and the catcher flipped off his mask. He Reuben’s his forehead.

"You okay, son?" The umpire asked, stepping in front to examine him. Two older guys came from the Villa Park dugout. Probably a coach and athletic trainer or something.

The pitcher came from the mound and shot me a glare before joining the group talking to the catcher. I, worriedly, kept taking steps back, scared someone was going to get mad at me.

An arm was put around my shoulders and I jumped away, scared. "Chill, it’s just me." Noah didn’t let me shake him off. I stopped struggling, but still felt tense. He lowered his voice, "Catchers often get hit by fouls. Nothing to worry about."

I pointed at the group. "But he doesn’t look okey."

"Well. Yea. It probably hurt." Noah turned me, forcing me to look at our dugout. "Don’t look at them. Look at your teammates. They aren’t mad at you and that’s what matters."

The team was leaning on the fence, looking cheerful and not like the opposing team. I relaxed a little, seeing that Zeke wasn’t angry at all. He gave me a nod, signaling that I was doing okay.

"Zeke asked me to come out here, since he knew you would probably panic. Just stay loose. Get on first. Zeke said to aim for a walk. And foul it down first base side if you’re scared that you might hurt the catcher again."

I nodded. That sounded safe.

"Batter!" The umpire called for me. I started to shake and slowly turned around. The other team had all returned to their respective spots, just waiting on me.

I glanced at Noah. He sighed and guided me back to the box. He looked up at the catcher, who had yet to put on his mask. "On behalf of my teammate, I would like to apologize for the bump."

The catcher sneered, "What. The little guy too scared to say it himself?"

Noah blinked. I started to shake. "Yes. Actually. Jake is a mute. If that’s a problem, I can report you for prejudice against those with speaking disabilities, to the tournament advisor."

The catchers jaw dropped. I started to shift back and forth, worried that Noah will get us in trouble like always.

"It’s fine." The ump intervened. "Watsonville apologized. Foul tips are apart of the game. Number one, return to the dugout. Number zero get in the box. Catcher, if you don’t want to get in trouble for unsportsmanlike conduct, then get in place."

Noah gave me a pat and left me to fend for myself. Luckily, the catcher listened to the ump and squatted. I took a breath and let it out slowly, then got into place as well.

The pitcher looked annoyed with the pause in the game. He got set, did his windup, and the pitch came in high. 3-2, full count. The catcher threw the ball back and they got set once more. I kept my normal stance and the infielders held normal position. The next pitch came, low. Too low. It bounced on the plate, into the catchers glove.

"Ball four, walk." The umpire called out.

My team cheered like crazy like I had hit a homerun. How embarrassing. I carefully set my bat on the ground and jogged to first.

"Not bad." Coach Luis said, without any expression. "You don’t need to be so careful with the bat. Just toss it closer to the dugout for the guys to put back."

I frowned. Does he know how much that bat cost? Luckily I saw Noah come out and got my bat, someone who really understood. Mahki got ready to step in the box. He looked at Mr. Miller, who did some random hand signals, then stepped in the batters box.