Game Four: Paradise Preparatory (5)

I looked at Jordan. After a moment of silence, I spoke up. "What do you mean?"

His eyes widen, but then quickly went back to normal. "Zeke is too hopeful about this situation. These prep kids are just toying with us. You've already noticed and you're just a newbie. How do you think this will play out?"

I shrugged, not sure what he meant.

"Option one: they start to play like normal and we barely win. They'll get to say that they gave us a handicap since we're a public school and they had misjudged how well Zeke can carry this team. Option two: they start to play like normal, and come back from behind to beat us. This is the worst between the two. Not only did they give us a handicap, but we blew it. If even you can see their lack of effort, then so can the reporters. They'll attack Zeke no matter which way we go. He'll look bad if we lose our lead that was given to us. But he'll also look like he needed a handicap if we win. It's all psychological."

"If it's really like that, then we should win at least." Noah frowned. "It's not our fault they thought we needed a handicap."

Jordan rolled his eyes. "A win like this is meaningless. It's a lose-lose situation."

"Strikeout!" The umpire called. We turned to see Garret walking back and Mahki walking up to the plate.

"Looks like they're waking up." Jordan said. "Garret is a rather good hitter. He at least believes in not striking out." He looked at me. "Get your helmet on and experience it for yourself. You'll feel the difference. You probably won't be able to get a hit. As for the team, we'll be held at five runs."

I won't be able to get a hit? I frowned. "Zeke said to get a hit and get on base. He'll make sure I score."

I walked away and grabbed my helmet and bat before stepping out. Mahki was already on his way back from striking out as well.

"Hey! Wait!" Noah caught me before I stepped up to bat. He pulled me away and lowered his voice. "You're confident you can get on?"

I was taken aback with his question. I didn't realize he was so unsure about this game too.

Noah looked awkwardly at the ground. "Jordan is a bit odd, but he's a good player. The best catcher we have, but he says he'll only catch for the best pitcher. But if he thinks we'll lose and embarrass Zeke, then..."

Then you'd believe him. I gave Noah a light pat on the shoulder. "I can do what Zeke said." Beyond that? I'm not sure. Maybe we'll still win. Maybe we'll lose. I'm not a fortune teller and I'm not a pro at baseball; knowing how the game could turn out is not in my skill set.

"Step up please." The umpire called me out. "Or it'll be a delay of game."

Noah gave me a nod and ran back to the dugout. I got back in the righty's box and was set to hit.

"Looking nervous." The catcher commented.

I wasn't feeling it though. I was actually feeling more pumped up then earlier. Now I've gotta find somewhere to hit to that can earn me a few bases.

The pitcher started his motion and I noticed it was slightly different. He was definitely putting in more effort now, like earlier when he gave me an 85mph pitch to hit. He did a full windup and came at me with a fastball right down the middle. I let it go by for strike one.

I stepped out of the batters box and looked towards the outfield. They were playing in, which was smart since they knew I couldn't hit the ball hard enough for a homerun. The next best thing would be to hit a triple. But I suck at running and I'm not really a good judge with decision making. Ideally, I should hit the ball to a corner of the field. But which corner?

I stepped back up to the plate and took the next pitch as a called strike. As the catcher threw the ball back to the pitcher, I saw the center fielder inching in some more. Maybe they knew I like to hit it up the middle, but that's a little presumptuous. I only have three hits in this whole tournament, two did go up the middle, but that's only a 66% chance. Is that enough odds for them to gamble on? I really have to study baseball some more.

I looked my bat over before getting back in the box. There weren't any dents from the previous hits, but with me aiming for a bigger hit over the center fielder, I was scared I was going to break my bat.

I took a deep breath and got set to swing. If Zeke wasn't afraid of criticism for winning a game, then what's a chip in the bat? I focused solely on the pitcher. I already had two strikes against me. If I was a pitcher, I would want a batter to chase a ball outside or in the dirt for an easy strikeout. I watched as the pitch came out of his hands and took a sharp dip down and bounced before the plate for ball one. A 1-2 count. A little bit trickier.

I dug in. This one, I'll have to send out. I thoroughly watched the next pitch as it came in. It was fast. Easily 88mph at least. But it was just a fastball with a straightforward trajectory. I moved my hands, wrists, and arms, catching up with the speed of the pitch. I heard the ball come off my bat, and I took off. I sprinted as fast as I could to first and looked for the ball going to the outfield.