"Now pitching for the Battle, number 80, Kendrick Master!" Master, a scrawny, bearded guy, began warming up, tossing a lively curveball from the mound. I sized him up from the on-deck circle, talking to Bray.
"Can't wait 'til Marco and Jack get out of here. They're not ready for the pros," Bray muttered quietly, looking at Marco.
"You can't say that; neither of them have gotten time here yet," I rebutted.
"I've seen 'em. Marco can't hit and Jack can't throw it over the plate. They're scrubs."
"Well, we don't have anyone else to go to." I tuned Bray out and stepped in the box. It was still 1-1. Master fired his first pitch, a rather average fastball. I took it.
"Low," the umpire muttered as Chalmers tried his best to frame it, to no avail. Master whipped a curveball into the box. I hacked at it, sharply exhaling in disappointment as it breezed by.
"Strike two," the umpire sharply rung me up. I grumbled, taking a minute to look at the LED board above the first-base seats.
Pitching: 80 Kendrick MASTER
Regular Season: 3.21 ERA, 1.22 WHIP, 5-5 W/L, 3 SV, 74 K
Postseason: No pitching appearances
Batting: 15 Cole BASSITT
Regular Season: .202 AVG, 4 HR, 116 H, 165 K, 24 XBH
Postseason: .575 AVG, 1 HR, 7 H, 2 K, 4 XBH
Master confidently exhaled, before letting it go. A fastball sailed through the air, hissing like a snake as the seams cut through the chilly night air. I swung.
CLOK
The ball rocketed off my bat. Master's face lost all color. The crowd began booing as Home Run Number 6 made its way over Lara's head and into the left field seats. As I trotted around the bases, I earned a slap on the back from Will Staples. I looked back.
"You should play for us next year." Will smiled. I ignored him, continuing to trot past third base. By this time, another chant started in the outfield seats.
"We lose every year, we lose every yeeeear! You're nothing special, we lose every year!"
Interestingly enough, they were up by 3 still. I got a lot of high-fives in the dugout, but no verbal cheering. Kairo and Kai were the only people that even congratulated me.
"Third baseman, number 25, Bray Barranda."
Bray also knocked a double off Master. Kai singled, but Bray didn't have the legs to beat Helper's arm.
We began the bottom of the seventh after the Battle fans delivered a very loud rendition of 'Take Me Out To The Ballgame' and DJ exhibiting signs of fatigue.
"Pinch hitting for the Battle and now in the game at center field, number 17, Tucker Feneda!"
Tucker Feneda was the Battle's hero for years and years. Now 37, he was too old to make much of a difference and the Battle kept him around for sentimental reasons. I called for a fastball. Feneda chopped at it. It bounced up high. Tate fielded it, easily whipping it down to Xander for the first out.
"First baseman, number 40, Riley Newman!"
I called for a slider. DJ tossed it in. Newman took it.
"Strike!" Newman took a deep breath, adjusted his batting gloves, and took a practice swing before stepping in. I called for a sinker. DJ tossed it in. Newman hacked at it. Strike two. I called an outside fastball as a waste pitch, to throw him off. DJ nodded and fired. Newman didn't bite. 1-2. Now it's time.
DJ's signature pitch is his wicked split-change. I called for it and he nodded. Newman chased it, looking silly with a golf swing. I began the throw-around as DJ fist-pumped.
For the first time, I noticed the Battle's bullpen LED sign.
Warming up for Indiana
Brad HEALY 19
Postseason: 0.00 ERA, 1.00 WHIP, 1 H, 2 K, 1 SV, 1 pitching appearance
Jacob BOURNE 62
No postseason stats available.
Warming up for Warren
Kade KING 30
Postseason: 0.00 ERA, 1.00 WHIP, 2 H, 1 K, 0 SV, 1 pitching appearance
Danny CALLIOPE 41
Postseason: 0.00 ERA, 0.50 WHIP, 4 H, 5 K, 2 SV, 2 pitching appearances
Brad Healy was the Battle's subpar closer. He managed to get a save against Columbus's weak bats, but he had a weak fastball and a hittable curve.
"Center fielder, number 3, Kole Helper!"
Helper pushed aside his curly golden hair. I called for a fastball and DJ let her rip. Helper check-swung, accidentally poking the ball foul. We stole a strike. I called for the split-change. Helper looked goofy as he poked it up into right field. Isaias called Xander and Cordell off, before losing it in the lights and dropping it. $#!& happens, I guess.
"Second baseman, number 1, Kodi Aoki!"
Helper bolted for second as Aoki bunted down the third base line, racing for first. I sprinted for the ball, peeled my mask off, and scooped the ball up.
"Inside!" I yelled to Xander, whipping the ball down to him. Aoki didn't beat my throw.
"After the bottom of the seventh, it's Battle 7, Wildcats 4! Now pitching for the Battle, number 19, Brad Healy!"
Healy trotted out from the bullpen in left field to wild cheers. He looked like he was locked in today.
"Leading off the top of the eighth for Warren, the left fielder, number 21, Cadmon Sipe."
Cadmon stepped in. Healy fired a fastball. Cadmon knocked it into left center for a stand-up double. We all yelled from the dugout. Tate walked, and Isaias popped out to right to advance Cadmon to third.
"Designated hitter, number 10, Craig Elliott."
Craig stepped in. His oldest was 15 and had chatted with various players throughout the game, and was approaching me now.
"What does this guy throw?" He asked me.
"Weak fastball and curve and change as far as we know." I answered.
"Dad's not gonna hit him, he can't see those breaking pitches well."
Healy wound up and launched a fastball. Craig swung.
CRACK
YOU ARE READING
An Unlikely Slugger: The story of Cole Bassitt
ActionCole Bassitt, a no-name catcher, just wants to have a normal season. Of course, during the postseason, an injury flings him into the fringe, and suddenly, he's a little bit of a hero. While his career skyrockets, his teammate wants his king status b...
