Perfect (21 page)

couple of weeks, she’s always

had an excuse not to see me.

Homework. Prom committee

meetings. Spring musical

rehearsals. Granted, she has

a lead, but still. Why should other

stuff come before me? Yes,

baseball practice has come

first for me lately, but it’s all

for her in the long run. Why

can’t she understand that?

She did promise to come

watch me play today, so

maybe everything’s okay.

Hope so. I’ve got plans for later.

Great Day For Baseball

Well, it is a little cool, but

hell, it’s barely March. At least

the sun is out, and we’re

playing at home, thanks to

outstanding snow removal

efforts on the part of our

grounds crew. Amazing,

what industrial strength

tarps and snowblowers can

accomplish. Not to mention

shovels and brooms. I am

stoked. Ready to kick

a little Reno High ass.

On the field for warm-ups,

I notice a couple of things.

One: serious-looking guys

in the stands with clipboards

and radar guns. Scouts.

Can’t know where from,

of course. But they’re there.

And two: Cara made it.

She’s sitting with some

girl I’ve never seen before.

Dark spiky hair. Cute, in

a kind of Goth way. Cara

points at me, and the strange

girl smiles. Then they both

wave. Nice. I wave back,

still wondering who’s sitting

beside my girl, when Coach

reminds me,
O’Connell!

We’ve got a game to play

here. Get your mind off

the bleachers or go hit

the showers.
Some of

the guys snicker, but mostly

because they’re jealous.

I glance at the scouts, one

of whom seems to be looking

my way. Get ready, dude.

First Inning

Reno High goes down,

one-two-three, thanks

to outstanding pitching

by Gary Bell. The scouts

are doing some serious

scribbling in their notebooks.

Our first two bats retire

quickly too, but the third

manages to slip one between

the short and second baseman.

Cleanup. That’s me. On

the way to the plate, I

peer up into the stands,

hoping Cara will smile

for me. But my good luck

charm looks distracted.

Maybe even worried. Hmm.

Batter up!
warns the ump.

Wonder what Cara…

Steeerike!
Goddamn it.

I try really hard to focus.

Catch a piece of a curve-

ball. Not a big enough

piece. It’s a short fly, but

thank God I run. The first

baseman misjudges, misses

the catch, and I arrive safely

on base on an error. Not

exactly going to impress

the scouts like that, but

better than an easy out.

Up comes Bobby, who’s as

average at the bat as he is

playing shortstop. Surprise!

He smacks the first pitch

deep into center field. Triple,

and I score the second run

of the game for the Grizzlies.

Rocky start. But I’ll get

my bat going yet. Won’t I?

Bottom Of The Eighth

Down two runs, I’ve yet to

get my bat going. Fielding-

wise, I’ve made a couple

of great plays. Just not

when we needed them.

Distracted, that’s what I’ve

been, and I can’t quite manage

to stay focused on the game.

Every time I look at Cara,

she’s talking to that girl, all

attention aimed toward her.

And the way she looks

at Cara… Damn, what

am I thinking? Right now,

bases loaded, one out,

I really need to get my head

back into the game. So why

do I turn my eyes toward

the bleachers? Only this time,

for whatever reason, Cara smiles.

At me. Bright and sweet

and real. And that’s all

the encouragement I need

to grab my bat, step up to

the plate, throw the pitcher

a “give it your best shot” look.

It’s the first time today he’s seen

me swell with determination.

His shoulders twitch. First

pitch hits the dirt in front

of the catcher. My turn to

grin, and he doesn’t like

that at all. Second pitch,

a big, lazy curve that I let

go by. I want a fastball. Come

on. Unbelievably, that’s what

he sends. Nothing for it but

to swing for the bleachers.

Clank!
It’s gone. Over

the fence. Grand slam.

The Reno pitcher deflates

as the Grizzlies crowd screams.

I start my trot, eyes scanning

the seats. Yep. The scouts

are taking notes. And Cara

is on her feet, clapping.

Not sure which one means

the most to me right now.

I’ll call it a tie. I round

the bases, cross home plate,

suck up the back slapping

and high fives. I barely

notice Bobby make our

third out. Barely notice

the top-of-the-ninth-inning

play resulting in our win.

What I do notice is how

the scouts pack up and

leave, right after Cara exits

with the spiky-haired girl.

Being The Hero

Ain’t all bad, and while part

of me wants to go straight

after Cara, most of me likes

soaking up the limelight rays.

We trade handshakes, head

for the showers, compliments

flying left and right. Cara

isn’t handing them out, but

other girls are, along with

teammates and even some

guys from the other team.

I get cleaned up, and when

I finally emerge from the locker

room, Uncle Jeff is waiting for me.

Great hit, son. Guess you saw

the scouts. One of ’em is an old

friend of mine. He’s at Louisville,

and I can tell you they’re very

interested. I know you’ve got

your heart set on Stanford,

but I told him you’d be happy

to talk. That’s right, isn’t it?

I mean, just in case things don’t

work out.…
He looks at me

cautiously. Does he expect me

to get all pissed? “Sure, Jeff.

We can always talk.” It won’t

make any difference. Stanford

will want me too, and it’s not

a bad thing to have interest from

more than one school. Uncle Jeff

looks relieved. Guess maybe I’ve

been a little short-tempered lately.