✨enjoy✨ the beginning/middle is realllyyyy boring so-
The sun was shining brightly on the field, beating down on all the players. Every few minutes, everyone would have to take their caps off and wipe the sweat from their foreheads.
They all felt bad for the handful of guys who were chosen to be batters, they couldn't take the heavy helmets off.
"Again!"
Chase sighs and gets back into pitching position. He held the ball behind his back, making eye contact with the catcher, who was Clyde.
Who the fuck pissed in Coaches Cheerios this morning?
Maybe the cheerleading coach refused to fuck him.
Chase stopped himself from smiling as he pitched the ball. It was a good pitch, everyone could agree.
The guy batting missed it, the coach screamed out. "Ball 2!"
Chase's face scrunched with confusing, everyone playing infield faces did too. Hell, even the batter looked confused.
"That was a strike." Clyde mutters, throwing Chase back the ball. Coach Green glares at Clyde, who instantly shut his mouth, going back to his squatting position.
Chase just scoffs, but held his tongue. He stood sideways again, throwing his arm out, releasing the ball.
Again, it was a good pitch, it was in the batters strike zone, he could hit it perfectly.
He even swung at it, but was a second too late to hitting it.
"Ball 3!"
"What?!"
"Ball 3!"
"He swung!" Chase exclaimed, his voice squeaked with frustration. "I've been throwing perfect pitches!"
The coach rolls his eyes, "Frame, you need to work on your throw."
"My throw?!"
"Run a lap."
Chase wanted to explode. He could've exploded. His face was heating up and not from the sun.
But he kept calm. He threw his glove aside, jogging off the field, going along the fence line.
Fuck him. Fuck him. Fuck him. Fuck him. Fuck him. Fuck him.
Why it Coach Mattix sick?! Why couldn't Coach Green have gotten sick?!
Chase tried to look at the bright side, at least running a lap would give him a moment to cool down. A moment to not deal with pitching. A moment to relax his arm.
He hated having baseball pratice right after school sometimes.
After Chase ran the lap, he went back onto the field, waiting for the coach to step aside for him to pitch.
"Go sit on the bench."
"The bench?"
"Yeah, you're going to wear your arm out."
Chase blinks, "my arm is completely fine-"
"Go!"
The dark haired boy just huffs, grabbing his glove, walking to the dugout. He wish he could skip practice, but it was bearable today.
Is my pitching getting bad?
Why is Coach being such an asshole?
He seriously needs to get laid or something...
