Stepping Up To The Plate (2)

Klara leaned back on the bench, crossing her arms as she squinted at the field. The sun was starting to dip lower, casting long shadows across the grass, but she still had a clear view of Linus standing in the batter's box. She smirked, barely containing her anticipation.

This is going to be good, she thought. Linus had been lucky so far—just running around, avoiding too much embarrassment. But this? This was his moment to fail spectacularly, and she couldn't wait to tease him about it.

As the first pitch came hurtling toward Linus, her grin widened. He swung the bat awkwardly, clearly too late. Klara bit her lip, stifling a laugh. She'd already started crafting the teasing lines in her head, imagining how she would mimic his missed swing. But Linus just stood there, quietly adjusting his stance as the second pitch flew by, not even swinging this time. His eyes darted toward the umpire, confusion briefly flickering on his face.

He's totally lost out there, Klara mused, rolling her eyes.

But then something shifted in Linus. As the third pitch approached, Klara noticed him get into position a little earlier this time. The pitch came, and this time Linus made contact. The aluminum bat made a sharp ding as the ball shot off it, though not as cleanly as he might have hoped. The ball weakly dribbled toward third base, but it was enough to give Linus a chance.

Linus took off toward first base in an instant, his natural athleticism showing as he sprinted with precision and speed. His strides were long and powerful, covering ground quickly as he kept his head low, focused entirely on reaching the base. Klara's smirk faltered a bit as she realized how fast he was. Even if the hit was weak, Linus's speed made it dangerous for the infielders.

Time seemed to stretch as Linus neared the base. The fielders were scrambling, and the first baseman still didn't have the ball. She could see the panic in their movements. Linus? He was locked in, his feet pounding the dirt, moving fluidly as he approached first base.

And then it happened. Linus crossed first base just as the ball was thrown wildly past the catcher and into the back fence. The runner from third crossed home, pumping his fist in celebration, while the rest of the team erupted in cheers. Linus finally stopped, catching his breath, and looked up, trying to make sense of what just transpired. It was then that he noticed Liam on second base.

Liam was laughing loudly to himself, bent over and holding his stomach as if it was the funniest thing he had ever seen. His laughter echoed across the field, and even from a distance, Linus could see the amusement on his face. 

Liam straightened up, still chuckling, and caught Linus's eye. With an exaggerated grin, he gave Linus a thumbs up, as if congratulating him on some kind of grand accomplishment. Linus, still utterly confused, raised his hand in an awkward wave, not entirely sure what had just happened or why everyone seemed so happy.

What did I do? Linus thought, his mind racing. He replayed the sequence in his head—he hit the ball, ran to first base, and then… chaos? The catcher was coming back from the fence with the ball in hand and somehow, they had scored. Did that mean he hadn't messed up? 

Maybe. Still, none of it made sense to him. He figured he'd have to ask Liam what happened when they got back to the dugout after the inning. Liam seemed to be the only one who could explain what he did, because whatever it was, everyone seemed to think it was good.

Despite his confusion, Linus couldn't help but feel a small sense of satisfaction bubbling up inside him. Sure, he had no idea how or why, but he had done something right—or at least, he hadn't screwed up. That was enough for now. He had done the bare minimum, according to his standards. 

Linus had never gotten deeply interested in any sport before, but he still enjoyed playing them from time to time. And being naturally athletic, he tended to be quite good at them. That meant he held himself to a higher standard, even if he didn't practice regularly.

In this case, though, he felt like he'd done the least he could. The hit wasn't great, but it wasn't a complete disaster either. At least I didn't mess it up for the team, Linus thought to himself. If I had failed, we wouldn't have scored. And with that, he allowed himself a moment of pride, however small it was.

As the game continued, the first batter from their team stepped up to the batter's box for his second at-bat. Linus snapped back to the present, shaking off the lingering confusion. He focused on the play, watching as the pitcher wound up and delivered the pitch. Linus took a few steps off the base, following the example of the other runners he'd seen earlier. He crouched slightly, ready to run if the ball was hit.

The batter, mimicking Linus's previous actions, swung and connected with the ball, sending it flying into the outfield. It wasn't as weak as Linus's dribbler, but it wasn't a perfect hit either. Still, it was good enough to keep the play alive. Without hesitating, Linus took off running toward second base, his feet moving quickly and instinctively as he dashed forward. He glanced briefly at the outfield, tracking the ball just enough to gauge how much time he had. As soon as he hit second base, he stopped, safely advancing as the next runner crossed first.

With the score now 2-0 in their favor, Linus allowed himself another small smile. Things were going well, even if he didn't fully understand how. He looked over to see the pitcher on the opposing team, now clearly frustrated, trying to regain control of the situation. 

With a few deep breaths, the pitcher refocused, squaring up against the next batter. The deep breaths seemed to work as the opposing pitcher finally caught a break and struck out the second batter, ending the inning. Linus jogged back to the dugout, eager to ask Liam what had really happened during that chaotic play.