441 Game @ Servite (1)

Early May and it was still pretty chilly in the Bay Area. Noah has told me yesterday that summer was here, but I'm not feeling it. The high was still in the mid 60's, not daring to approach the 70's. I rubbed my hands together to warm them up before picking up my bat. 

Warmups were over and the game was about to begin. As visitors we would get the chance to attack first. Noah and I were both standing near the on deck circle, listening to the man over the speaker announcing the home team at each position. 

"Hey, Jake." Noah mumbled. 

I leaned in to try and hear better. The speakers wasn't the only thing loud around us. The stands were completely full of spectators of all types and you could certainly hear the home field advantage. 

"Don't start fouling the ball off until you get cornered, okay?" Noah whispered into my ear. 

I raised an eyebrow. 

"I'm going to get on base." He told me confidently, while straightening up. "Give me some time to shine."

I grinned. "Okay." I don't know if he'll really get on like he predicts, but it won't kill me to wait to foul some pitches off. 

"And now batting for Watsonville High School, freshman and shortstop, Noah Atkins." The man announced over the speaker. 

"Woo! Go Noah!" Mrs. Atkins high pitched voice was easily heard as the Servite fans quieted down.

Noah gave me smirk before heading to the plate. Like we predicted, Sanchez was back up on the mound. He's a very effective and experienced pitcher and player. Last time, only Zeke and I were able to get hits off of him. That didn't scare me though. We were able to win with that. 

"Strike!" Noah let the first pitch pass by for a called strike. 

The surrounding claps and cheers felt a little deafening from the circle. I shifted from foot to foot, feeling uncomfortable. 

"Strike!" Noah swung and missed. 0-2. He steadied himself and reset his feet before drawing his bat back. The next pitch was a fastball, but this time, Noah got a piece of it. A tiny piece. The ball deflected back, just over the umpire for a foul. 

The catcher, who had jumped up to attempt to catch it, muttered under his breath and threw a new ball to his pitcher. He then kneeled down and gave some new signs; Sanchez nodded. The next pitch came and right away, I could tell it was a breaking ball. A curve. It started away from Noah and then came in. Too much in. 

The pitch nailed Noah just above the knee, making him fall over. 

"Oh!"

"Ouch!"

The crowd made sounds of distress, but their sounds couldn't surmount how much distress I was feeling. I hurried over to Noah. 

Drew was right behind me. We both helped Noah to his feet. 

"Slowly." Drew instructed. "Let's try standing first. Put some weight on it. A little at a time. That's it." Noah carefully placed all his weight on the leg that was hit. "Now slowly bend in a squat. Kick your leg out. Try leaning to your right. Then your left."

As Drew ran through the stretches with Noah, I backed up to give them space. Coach and Zeke were both standing just a few feet away so I went over to join them. 

Zeke raised an eyebrow. 

I gave him a thumbs up. Noah was a-okay. No flinching in pain or grumbling. Plus, I could tell that the pitch was more focused on movement than speed. It shouldn't have left a big bump or anything. 

Zeke nodded and spoke to Coach in a low tone. I couldn't even hear so I awkwardly stood around and waited for the game to resume. Drew finished with Noah and watched as he jogged to first base. He picked up his bat for him and headed back to us. 

"He's fine." Drew told Coach. 

Coach glanced down the line, but only saw Noah chatting merrily with Coach Luis, the first base coach. He and Zeke then headed back to the dugout with Drew, leaving me alone with the Servite catcher and the umpire behind him. 

"Batter ready?" The umpire asked, looking down at me. 

I nodded, and then stepped over, heading for the lefty box out of habit. I paused. Then retreated back to the righty's side. Sanchez had a curveball and slider that I needed to be wary of. It's best to hit the opposite side in a situation like this. 

"Now batting for Watsonville, freshman and second baseman, Jake Hollander." The speaker blasted my name, making me flinch. 

"Go for it, Jake!" I heard Mrs. Atkins yell from behind our dugout. 

I felt my face flush, but I wasn't bothered by her cheers. It felt good on the inside. 

Sanchez started me with a curveball right away, not shying away from the pitch that was just responsible for their first baserunner. I had an urge to swing and fouled it down the line, but pulled the bat back. It grazed the inside corner. 

"Strike."

My eye twitched. 

The catcher threw the ball back to the mound and got set once more. He reset and started his motion once more. As soon as the ball left his fingers, I could see Noah take off for second base. 

Feeling movement from behind me, I made a decision. I swung my bat too early, completely missing the ball, but also throwing the catcher off. The catcher messed up and didn't catch the ball properly, watching as it bounced off his glove. By the time he picked the ball up, Noah was safely standing on second base and our dugout was cheering for him. 

The catcher grunted and threw the ball back to Sanchez. Sanchez didn't pay any attention to Noah getting another free pass, but my mind was swirling. Noah was able to steal a base on one of the fastest pitchers in the league and that pitcher is a lefty. Statistically, that's a very unlikely scenario. 

I wasn't given much time to dwell on it as Sanchez was already starting his motion once more. It was another curve. His fourth in a row. I easily fouled it down the line. Only for him to throw another. I repeatedly smacked the next four down the line, stuck with my 0-2 count. Sanchez wasn't budging. He must know not to waste any ball counts on me. After his tenth curve and my eighth foul, he threw his eleventh pitch to me. 

Thinking it was another curve, my timing was thrown off by the slight difference in trajectory. With the barrel of my bat, I smacked the ball to the opposite field of me. The right fielder sprinted and dove at the line drive, making a spectacular grab for their first out. Off of me. I was their first out. 

Stunned, all I could do was hang my head and go back to the dugout. Garret, on deck, patted my back and didn't say a word. He didn't have to. Zeke was right behind him. 

"You got complacent." Zeke told me as soon as I came back into the dugout. "You anticipated the curve, and got trapped."

I nodded slowly. I could tell that it was a trap now that it's in the past. Hindsight really is 20/20. I felt a little foolish. 

"Shake it off." Zeke sighed and patted the top of my helmet. "It's only your first at-bat. I believe you can get him next time."