A/N: It's baseball season and you know what that means. It's time for the first installment of College Baseball TMI brought to you by the fine folks at Stanford TMI. When you're looking for the best in TMI, you can't go wrong with Stanford TMI. We're your hosts, Biff Roberts and Rob Bifford. Let's get to it, baseball fans. College baseball games are played on fields with the same dimensions as professional baseball, follow the same rules, and permit the use of the designated hitter, giving a team 10 players instead of the regular 9. A designated hitter doesn't play in the field, but merely bats in place of the pitcher who, then, only pitches when his team is in the field. The biggest difference is that college players use metal (aluminum alloy) bats due to the prohibitive cost of replacing broken wooden bats like the pros use. Wow! That's a lot of TMI, Biff. It sure is, Rob. When we say TMI here at College Baseball TMI, we don't mess around.
A/N1.5: I realize that there may be readers who aren't knowledgeable about baseball. Please let me know if I need to explain more (or less) about the game in the story or in A/Ns. I want people to understand and enjoy the story, not be bored with unnecessary details. The same goes for the game described in this chapter.
Disclaimer: I don't own Chuck and I make no money from Chuck. That's two strikes against me and I haven't even gotten up to bat yet. This game is rigged.
Chapter 25 – Take Me Out to the Ball Game
February 2
"Chuck!" Sarah cried in dismay. "What have you done?" Like the other players' girlfriends, Sarah and Alex were on hand to take part in the Cardinal Cares outreach program in support of their boyfriends on this sunny, but cool, Saturday afternoon. They'd spent the morning busy with Songbirds' practice, since Sarah had made good on her promise to add more preparation time in order to get the girls ready for the upcoming competition season. The two women had arrived at Stanford's Klein Field expecting to meet up with their boyfriends before boarding buses for the short trip to the location for the day's activities. They hoped to see their men decked out in their home uniforms for the first time, looking handsome. What they did not expect, Sarah particularly, was to see such a travesty.
"What?" Chuck asked, turning at the sound of her voice. She wore her Stanford hoodie sweatshirt and jeans while her long blonde hair was in pigtails tied with cardinal-colored ribbons. It reminded him of that first football game he'd attended with the Songbirds. She took his breath away, like she did every time he saw her, and he shivered. His welcoming smile, at seeing his girlfriend approaching, turned into a confused frown when he realized that she was upset.
"Your hair," Sarah said. "You cut my curls!" Once she reached his side, she proceeded to walk around him, looking at him closely and her frown deepened as she went.
"Yeah, I did," he shrugged, not sure what the fuss was all about, but bemused by her 'my curls' comment. Some of his teammates, hearing the exchange, began to chuckle quietly. The coaching staff stood a short distance away, but close enough to hear, as well, indicated by the grins they shared.
"Bartowski is learning a lot more than he bargained for, I bet," Bradbury, the pitching coach, said.
"You got that right, Sam," Coach Graham snorted. "I'm pretty sure he expected the classrooms at Stanford to be inside with desks and whiteboards and not outside in a parking lot."
"And his teachers would be older and not as pretty," Mark Klein snarked.
"The kid had no idea what he was getting into from the moment he set foot on campus," Casey offered. "One life lesson after another." The coaches chuckled and nodded their heads in agreement.
"Why'd you get your hair cut? When did you get it cut?" Sarah complained. She could hear the whine in her voice, but couldn't help it.
"Got it cut this morning. You never saw me in a baseball cap with long curly hair before," Chuck explained. "It's not pretty. I look like Bozo the Clown. That's one bit of teasing that I can do without," he shook his head emphatically.
Sarah heard the tone in his voice and saw the look on his face. There was some history there. She glanced over at Morgan and noticed the sympathetic expression he wore. Yup, definitely something from their shared past. OK, enough whining. It was time to smooth things over. She reached up and ran her fingers through the shorter hair on the back of her boyfriend's head, smirking at the low hum she heard.
"I can work with this, I guess," she teased. When she switched to using her nails to lightly scratch his scalp, his hum turned to a soft growl. Her smirk widened into a pleased smile and she felt a warmth growing in her chest. Her Chuck did look very delicious in his uniform, so she supposed she could live with his shorter hair. Chuck leaned down and kissed her without any warning, causing her to giggle due to them being in the middle of the mix of baseball players, girlfriends, and coaches. More than one set of eyes widened in amusement. A few resorted to catcalls and whistles.
"Damn, Bartowski, get a room," Dave Bice, one of the freshmen said, grimacing in mock disgust.
"So, all we have to do is scratch the back of your head and you'll do what we want?" Larkin snarked. Chuck broke the kiss and looked up.
"Nope. Sorry, Larkin. No matter what you do, I'm not kissing you," he retorted. Bryce burst out laughing. He held his hand up for a high-five and Chuck reciprocated and they slapped palms. Chuck was learning, Sarah thought with a small smile. So was Larkin.
Watching the exchange, Graham and Casey shared a look, nodding to each other.
Graham cleared his throat. "OK, everyone. Let's load up and get a move on. We've got a lot of kids waiting on us." The crowd began to disperse with the players and coaches boarding one bus and the families and girlfriends getting on the other one.
It was only a short drive from the Klein Field parking lot up the El Camino Real to, the appropriately named, El Camino Park where the baseball team was scheduled to do their part for the university's Cardinal Cares outreach program. When the team bus got close enough to the park, the players could see that it was a simple layout of a diamond on one side and a pitch lined for both soccer and lacrosse on the other, divided by a parking lot. The diamond had a full dirt infield which made it suitable for both softball and baseball with the addition of an artificial movable pitcher's mound.
Little League's Challenger program was the focus of the outreach on this particular Saturday. The Palo Alto Little League provided a Challenger League team for boys and girls with physical or intellectual challenges. It was a long-standing tradition for the Stanford baseball team to host a pre-season Challenge-Fest. The Challenger League teams from Palo Alto and the surrounding communities, within Little League's California District 52, could meet the college players and have some fun playing pick-up games with the players, coaches and their families, and the players' girlfriends acted as coaches, umpires, cheerleaders, and drink providers while young players from each of the Little League organizations within the district acted as their playing buddies, helping them enjoy an afternoon of fun and the game of baseball. At the end of the afternoon, the Challenger players, their families, and their Little League playing buddies would be treated to a typical baseball meal of hot dogs, hamburgers, potato chips, and cold drinks to cap off their day, served by the Stanford team along with their families and friends.
The sight that greeted both buses surprised everyone who hadn't been involved with Challenge-Fest before. They were met by a sea of young baseball players, Challengers and their buddies, cheering them as they exited the buses. The coaching staff had briefed the participants back on campus about what was expected of them before they boarded the buses, so the experienced players led the Stanford contingent in their own cheer to say hello to all of the kids. The Turners, and their camera people, were setting up around the milling crowd to capture the afternoon for the public relations departments of both the Athletic Department and the university. At that point, Anne Warner Cribbs, the Palo Alto Park and Recreation Commission Chairperson said a few words of welcome and kicked off the day's activities.
When Chairman Cribbs had finished her remarks, the experienced members of the Stanford contingent began to disperse among the youngsters, smiling and talking to them enthusiastically. But some of the first-year players held back, hesitant to join in, looking apprehensive. Chuck noticed the looks on their faces.
"What's up, y'all?" he asked looking confused.
"This could … ah … be a tough afternoon." John Sload admitted.
"Why? They're just kids," Chuck replied. "Kids who want to play baseball." Some of the coaches had taken notice of the exchange and were on the verge of stepping in, but hadn't, yet.
"Yeah. I get that. We … ah … get that. It's just tough. I did this back when I was in Little League and was a playing buddy. It's rough to deal with," Sload explained. "Emotional."
"How rough can it be?" Chuck shrugged. "You deal with me every day with no problems, right? Well, I'm just like them. Only my challenge is in my head where you can't see it," he tapped his index finger on his temple, "and most of theirs are on the outside where it's easier to see," Chuck smiled gently and waved his arm encouraging his teammates to walk with him. "C'mon. Let's go talk baseball and help some kids have fun. Maybe even make some new Stanford fans." He turned and began to walk toward the mixed mass of baseball players, a wondering Morgan at his side, so he didn't see the shamed and saddened looks of his teammates. They knew he was right. Putting smiles on their faces, they followed him into the fray.
"Shit," Mark Klein, the infield coach breathed. He shared a wide-eyed look with his wife, who was biting back her own emotions. Maybe he'd pegged the Bartowski kid all wrong, he pondered. Klein was so wrapped up in his own thoughts that he missed the looks sent his way by Graham and Casey.
"A goddamned natural," Casey growled. Graham just smirked and nodded, cocking an eyebrow at his assistant's observation.
Alex and Sarah had witnessed the entire episode. They both had tears in their eyes when they happened to look at each other. Mustering part of a smile, Sarah shook her head.
"The big jerk ruined my makeup," she whined. "I bet he did it on purpose. What an asshole."
"Yeah, that's it," Alex grinned. "He's an asshole. A complete asshole. That's why we're both trying to not cry right now. Because Chuck's an asshole."
Sarah tried frowning, but couldn't keep from smiling. "Well, he is," she said, sniffing.
"Absolutely. Go with that," Alex teased. "Now, let's get our faces fixed before we scare the children." Sarah barked out a laugh while Alex signaled Mrs. Graham, who was trying to corral the families and players' girlfriends, by pointing at her face and Sarah's and then the ladies' restroom. The older woman gave them a knowing smile and nodded. The two young women took off like a shot.
Sarah hoped her silliness hid the hurt she felt for Chuck from Alex. Her need to hug her boyfriend left an ache in her heart.
Meanwhile, Chuck and his teammates were moving among the younger players and their families, chatting, posing for pictures, and even signing autographs on occasion. After a while, the coaches and the park and rec staff began to organize the different Challenger teams into their first pick-up games. Since they were using plastic wiffle balls and bats, they could play five games in all. One on the infield of the diamond and two more in left and right fields with home plate being placed next to the respective foul poles. An additional two games were set up on opposite ends of the adjacent soccer pitch. The Stanford players and coaches were divided up between the five games assigning eight men to each game, three to each Challenger team and two acting as umpires. Coaches' families and players' girlfriends split up, as well, going to cheer at each game and man the drink coolers for any thirsty players.
The games were fun and the Challenger players and their buddies were having a blast. Since plastic wiffle balls had holes on one half of the ball, that made for very erratic flight trajectories when they were hit. There were plenty of crazy plays and plenty of laughter from everyone, on the fields and in the stands. Everything was dutifully captured by Craig Turner's cameras.
The Stanford coaches and players rotated between the various games as the afternoon progressed, trying to spend time with each Challenger team in the effort to meet and interact with as many kids as possible, Challengers and playing buddies alike. It was during his turn with the local Palo Alto team that Chuck noticed one boy standing with his parents while his frustrated playing buddy stood nearby looking glum. Curious, he ambled over to the little group. As he got closer, he made eye contact with the parents and got a tired smile from the mother and a cautious nod from the father. Even the playing buddy sulking nearby perked up, but the little boy, next to the adults, just stared off into the distance, not making eye contact. Before he could introduce himself, the mother spoke up.
"Hello! I'm Celia Torbert and this is my husband, Frank," the woman said, offering her hand to shake, which Chuck did before shaking hands with her husband. She gestured to her son, but didn't touch him. "And this is our son, Reginald." When Chuck's eyes widened slightly upon hearing the more formal name, she continued. "He likes to use proper names," she offered, giving him a significant look. Chuck nodded as if he understood, but he really wasn't sure that he did. He knelt down in an effort to bring his singular height down closer to the boy.
"Hello, Reginald. My name is Charles Bartowski," he looked up and received approving nods from the couple. "It is very nice to meet you." Reginald continued to stare off into the distance, not making eye contact.
"Yeah," the little boy replied after a long moment of silence.
"Do you like baseball?" Chuck asked, not sure what to say. He was just feeling his way blindly.
Another long pause. "Yeah," Reginald said, eventually.
"Good. I like baseball, too." Chuck noticed the playing buddy slowly coming closer with a weak smile on his face. Chuck grinned at him and tilted his head, inviting him to come closer. Looking back at Reginald, he went on. "Do you have a favorite baseball team?"
A shorter wait. "Yeah." Pause. "I like the Los Angeles Dodgers baseball team."
"Great!" Chuck gushed. "I like the Los Angeles Dodgers baseball team, too. They are a great team." Reginald just nodded, still not looking at Chuck. "Do you have a favorite player?"
Almost no wait. "Yeah." Breath. "Jackie Robinson. He was on the Brooklyn Dodgers before the team came to Los Angeles, but he is still my favorite player. He was the first African American player in Major League baseball in 1947. He was the first Rookie of the Year. He was the National League Most Valuable Player in 1949 and was an All-Star for six years in a row. 1949, 1950, 1951, 1952, 1953, and 1954. He played in six World Series and led the team to the 1955 World Series Championship." Reginald abruptly stopped his recitation of Jackie Robinson's accomplishments. It took Chuck a few beats to realize that he wasn't going to say anything else.
"I agree with you, Reginald. Jackie Robinson was a great baseball player. And very important to the game and to the entire country," Chuck said, but paused when the little boy slowly turned his gaze to look at Chuck's face. He looked up at Frank Torbert, who nodded his encouragement. "I am a pitcher, so my favorite player is Sandy Koufax. He was a left-handed pitcher like me!"
"Sandy Koufax is a Hall of Fame pitcher," Reginald began. "He was an All Star seven times. He won the Cy Young award three times in 1963, 1965, and 1966 with unanimous votes when only one award was given out for all of Major League baseball instead of one for each league like they do now. Sandy Koufax was the first major league pitcher to pitch four no-hitters and the eighth pitcher to pitch a perfect game in baseball history. He was elected to the Baseball Hall of Fame, at age 36 in 1972, to become the youngest player ever elected." Once again, he stopped talking, but this time he kept looking at Chuck.
"You are correct, Reginald. You explained why I like Sandy Koufax perfectly." Chuck grinned.
"Yeah."
"Do you want to go over and play some baseball?" he asked.
"Yeah. I would like to play baseball," Reginald replied instantly. Chuck nodded.
"OK," Chuck said. "Why don't you come along with me? Who is your playing buddy?" Chuck asked, gesturing and the shy boy standing close to the adult Torberts.
"That's William Palmer. He is my playing buddy," Reginald announced. "Come with us, William." The young boy waved his hand in a 'come on' gesture.
Chuck stood and smiled down at the Little League player. "Nice to meet you, William," he said, offering his hand to shake.
The little boy blushed and shook his hand. "You can call me Billy. My other teammates do all of the time," he said tentatively.
"Noted," Chuck grinned and winked. Billy smiled gratefully and noticeably relaxed. When Chuck turned to walk toward the other players, he felt a small hand reach for his much larger one. Surprised, he looked down to see Reginald holding his hand. Chuck looked over at Reginald's parents. Their faces wore a combination of amazement and joy. Both had tears in their eyes. Chuck just grinned sheepishly and motioned for them to follow him.
As the afternoon drew on, Reginald slowly began to open up a little. With Billy Palmer's help and the support of his parents and Chuck, along with other players, he ended up having a good time, even laughing occasionally. Chuck tried to spend time with as many of the Challenger players and their buddies as he could, hoping to do his part to make their afternoon a special one. It took an increasing toll on him, but he wouldn't take a break, even when Coach Graham tried to insist.
"These kids never get a break from their challenges. I understand that better than anyone. I'll take a break later," he said firmly. Graham frowned but nodded his acceptance. The coach even stopped Sarah from trying to talk to Chuck. She knew why, but it didn't make her happy.
When the games were over and it was time for the cookout food, Reginald slowly made his way over to Chuck and hugged him, much to everyone's surprise.
"Thank you, Charles. I had a good time playing baseball," the young boy admitted.
"I am glad you enjoyed yourself, Reginald. I had a good time, too," Chuck smiled, hugging the boy right back. When the boy let go and returned to his parents, they stepped up to thank Chuck, too.
"Thank you, Charles. For everything," Celia hugged him. "I've never seen Reggie act like that with anyone before, so thank you."
"Well, shy kids sometimes need a little more coaxing to relax and enjoy playing baseball," Chuck smiled gently with a knowing look in his eye. He'd figured out Reggie's challenge was autism early on in the afternoon. "I'm glad I could help out a little. It's Chuck, by the way," he winked.
Frank Torbert stepped up and took Chuck's hand, shaking it vigorously. "You did more than help out, young man. You did more than you know. Much more," the older man nodded. "Thank you."
Chuck blushed and ducked his head. "Everyone has challenges, Mr. Torbert. It's just that some people's challenges are greater than others," he shrugged. "We all need help from time to time. I've had some experience with challenges of my own and I've been lucky enough to get that help. If I can do even a small thing to help someone else out, it's my privilege."
"All the same, thank you," Frank nodded, shaking Chuck's hand once more before joining his wife and son in the food line.
Coach Graham silently stepped up beside Craig Turner. "Did your people get all of that? Please tell me that you did. The whole afternoon?" he asked. Turner nodded. "Good. I want a copy. Mary and Stephen need to see that entire recording."
After another hour of food and adrenaline-fueled silliness, the afternoon came to a close. A second round of pictures, autographs, and hugs followed before the crowd began to disperse. It surprised few in the Stanford group that Chuck garnered a lot of the young players' attention. His empathy and his childlike enthusiasm drew the kids to him, Challengers and buddies alike. They instinctively knew a kindred spirit when they saw one. When the last of the Challenger families and their buddies departed, the college contingent helped the park and rec crew in cleaning up the fields and discarding the trash.
Chuck was spent. Emotionally exhausted. It had been building all afternoon and had, finally, gotten to be too much. As they began to reboard the buses for the return trip to Stanford, he asked for a moment. Walking past the Men's restroom, he went to stand next to a large pine tree behind the park's power box. Ignoring everything else, Sarah hurried to his side.
"Sarah," Chuck barely got out before breaking down. He fell into her arms and she felt him shaking, so she hugged him with all of her might as he sobbed.
"It's OK, baby. I've got you. I've got you," she whispered, tears coursing down her cheeks, wetting his jersey, aching for her boyfriend. "Let it out, sweetheart. Just let it all out." She rubbed his back trying to comfort him. He gratefully melted into her embrace.
The coaches tried to get everyone to board the buses, but they couldn't do it fast enough.
"Wow! Chuck's a mess. And he was the one trying to tell us it wasn't going to be that rough," John Sload said, twisting his lips to the side and shaking his head.
"No, you don't understand," Morgan told him; Alex at his side listening with rapt attention. "Chuck knew he was going to break down before he even got on the bus to come here. In his eyes, he's just like all of those kids. Different. Broken, maybe. But just different and broken in a different way from them," he shook his head sadly. Alex gave him a comforting side hug. "And just like those kids, he can't ever be fixed and be what he thinks is normal."
"Fuck me," Sload said. "That's a tough way to go through life thinking about yourself.
"Yeah," Morgan agreed. "He's an idiot, of course. But you're right, too." He pointed over at the embracing couple. "That dumbass is six feet four inches tall. About a foot of that is a huge brain. The remaining 5 plus feet is one big damn heart. All heart and nothing but heart." Morgan looked around at the other people watching the scene unfold, his girlfriend gripped his hand tightly. "You want to know why he's my oldest and best friend, when he can run rings around me blindfolded with both hands and both feet tied behind his back? Well, that's why right there, for the most part. He puts other people before himself whenever he gets the chance. Never thinks about what it's going to cost him. He's got the biggest heart I've ever seen. Period. End of story." He turned and wrapped Alex in a deep embrace, hiding the tears in his eyes.
February 6
Chuck and Sarah had gotten even closer, if that was possible, after Challenge-Fest the previous Saturday. His breaking down publicly and unashamedly, broke her heart and sent it soaring at the same time. He held nothing back, sobbing on her shoulder, not bothering to maintain control for fear of looking weak, trusting her absolutely. Chuck hadn't been cautious, marshalling his resources, like most college kids would have done. No, he'd committed himself completely and given everything he had until he was spent. Then he broke and Sarah had picked up the pieces, even though he hadn't expected her to do that for him. How could she not? She loved him. The mere thought of loving Chuck gave her goosebumps and made her shiver. Their walks the last few nights had been even more magical than before. And the kisses! Oh, God! The kisses! She needed them like she needed the air to breathe.
Carina could put up with the stupid grins for no reason and the dumb moony faces staring off into the distance. Even the weird ass shivering wasn't all that bad. But she absolutely drew the line at baby talk. Like at dinner the previous Monday. It was so bad that she'd almost murdered the two of them. Their babbling and giggling had just been too much. Sure, she wanted them together, but they were revolting. It was ruining her meal.
"OK, that's it!" Carina had declared. "Enough. Stop with the baby talk."
Chuck and Sarah had looked wide-eyed at the auburn-haired senior in apparent confusion, then back at each other. Sarah had kept her wide-eyed innocent look, but Chuck had gotten a gleam in his eye and she giggled quietly. Maybe some payback was in order.
"Whatever does she mean, sweetums?" Chuck had asked, feigning ignorance.
"Why, I couldn't begin to guess, lambikins." Sarah had said too sweetly.
"I'm warning you two. Don't push me," Carina had groused. The exchange had gotten the attention of the rest of the table and people were beginning to smile.
"I'm sure I have no idea what you mean, Carina," Chuck had said, straining to maintain his straight face. "Do you, snuggle wuggle kins?" he'd asked, looking at Sarah, whose eyes were dancing.
"Snuggle wuggle kins, Bartowski?" Carina had asked incredulously. "Did you hit your head or something? Do we need to take you to the hospital?"
"Don't talk that way to my sweet boobear," Sarah had said in a childish voice.
"Talk? Talk?" Carina sputtered. "Boobear? I'll do more than talk. I'll stab you both with my fork," she'd threatened.
"Why so mean, Carina?" Chuck had asked. "Wasn't it you who asked me last fall what games I like to play indoors that only require two people? Well, it turns out that I do like to play a game indoors that only requires two people. My snugglekins, Sarah, taught it to me." He'd paused. The entire two tables were leaning forward waiting for him to continue and he obliged them. "It's a simple game called Baiting Carina."
"What the fuck?" Carina had bellowed. Both tables exploded in laughter, Chuck and Sarah were laughing the hardest. They high-fived each other. Zondra reached in for one, as did Amy. The tables and the surrounding area were in shambles with all of the laughing students.
"Fuck you, Chuckles. Fuck you, too, Blondie," Carina had grumbled. "Fuck you, both and twice on Sunday." That just made the couple laugh harder, tears rolling down their cheeks. She tried to keep a frown on her face, but failed, and she began to laugh, herself. "You got me. You got me good. Fuck you, both, but you got me good." Carina had sketched a salute at the duo as she laughed in earnest. The nerd was learning.
Now, it was Wednesday and the Songbirds were back in Helman Hall preparing to give Dr. Beckman and Chuck another preview of their songs and routine for their second friendly competition that was coming up that weekend. The advisor and the mascot occupied the same seats they'd been in for the last preview. The girls were, again, grouped over by the risers on the opposite side of the open space.
"Hello, Dr. Beckman," Chuck greeted the advisor.
"Hi, Chuck. How's it going with you? Your research? Is baseball coming along alright?" Beckman peppered him with questions, but with a smile.
"I'm doing great, Ma'am. Thanks for asking," he replied. "My research is coming along and shaping up nicely. On track I guess you could say. At least so far," he grinned. "And baseball is going OK, too. But I will admit that I'm getting anxious for the season to get started."
"You and me both, Chuck," the older woman smiled. "I'm really looking forward to this season to see what Langston's got in store for us."
"We'll try to not disappoint you," Chuck smiled.
"See that you don't" she faux scolded. "Are you ready for tonight's performance?" Dr. Beckman asked.
"Yes, I am," he admitted. "This time everything will be new. I've never heard them practicing the songs they're singing tonight, much less watched them working on the dance moves. It's going to be fun."
While the other women were getting arranged, Sarah walked over to the two of them sitting in the lecture hall seats. "Let me give you the setup like I did last time," she began. "There isn't a story like we acted out for the first friendly. This go-around we're just going to be arranged like you see the girls doing now. Remember, we're singing a mashup of "I Wish You Loved Me" by Tynisha Keli and "Wishin' and Hopin'" by Dusty Springfield. Our outfits, for these songs, are 1960's style pink mini-dresses with black patent leather belts with square gold buckles and black patent leather flats with square gold buckles on them." She looked at Chuck, "No two-inch heels this time around." Dr. Beckman snorted and Chuck just grinned. "We'll be wearing bump up hair combs to get that 60's style cascading hair to complete the look," Sarah concluded.
"Sounds sort of like how Doris Day looked in those old movies," Chuck observed.
"Very much like that, yeah. So, picture us dressed like that while we sing," she grinned, once again amazed and amused by what odd things her boyfriend had squirreled away inside his head. Dr. Beckman just smirked and shook her head at him.
Sarah walked back to rejoin the other girls, ignoring the grins on their faces. What did they know anyway? Her Chuck was unique and special. And all hers. Yum. Stop it. Focus. Shaking herself back to the present, Sarah got everyone's attention.
"OK, everyone. Ready?" she asked. When she got a round of confirmations, she pulled out her round pitch pipe to play the initial note of Beca's arrangement. Then she counted out the tempo "1 … 2 … 3 … 4." At 4, the Songbirds began to sing, with Lilly handling the percussion beatboxing like before.
And like before, Chuck was mesmerized. It was a completely different song selection with a completely different attitude from their first performance, but they enchanted him just the same. She enchanted him. It felt like Sarah was singing directly to him. He didn't know much about singing and performing, but even he could tell that Sarah was putting everything she had into the song. Chuck was so focused that he didn't notice the knowing smiles the other Songbirds were wearing, especially the CATS. Nor did he pick on the fact that Dr. Beckman spent as much time watching him as watching the performance.
For her part, Sarah was literally singing her heart out, trying to show Chuck how much she loved him and that she was "wishin' and hopin' that you loved me" like the lyrics in the song mash up. His soft eyes matched the loving look on his face, telling her that his heart was feeling more than his mind could understand. It sent a thrill through her and started a fire behind her navel. His mind would catch up to his heart, of that she was certain. She hoped it was soon, because, like the song, she wanted to "tell him that she loved him so bad".
Sarah had to smile when he didn't immediately register that the song had ended. After a few beats, Chuck seemed to reboot and come back to awareness and to notice the smirks on the Songbirds faces.
"Did we put you to sleep there, Chuckles? Were we that bad?" Carina teased.
"Ahem. No … No, not at all. In fact, you were great," Chuck blinked. "I guess I got lost in the music," he shrugged.
"Yeah, go with that, Curls. Go with that," Zondra chuckled. He's lucky he's taken already, she thought. Otherwise, there's a gang of girls here who would be on him in a New York minute. He might have gotten his hair cut, but the barber had left most of the curls on top alone with just a little trim. More than one girl wouldn't mind running their fingers through those curls if he didn't belong to Sarah.
"So, what'd you think, Chuck," Sarah asked, trying to maintain her decorum when she really, really wanted to do anything but.
"I … um … loved it. Y'all were great," he grinned crookedly. "You're going to wow them come Saturday. I know I'd vote for you as the winner. That's for sure."
"Why, aren't you sweet?" Chloe cooed, which earned her a bump and a frown from Aubrey.
"It's too bad, you're not wearing two-inch heels, though," Chuck teased. "That would be the clincher."
"What is it with you and ladies' shoes, Chuck?" Amy giggled. He laughed and the rest of the singers joined in. It did give Dr. Beckman an idea, though. It would take a bit, but she knew she could make it happen in time for the first official competition. It would be perfect, she smiled to herself.
February 9
In a repeat of the Saturday two weeks prior, the Songbirds had lunch together at Lakeside Dining before retrieving their garment bags and boarding the bus for the trip up to the University of San Francisco where this week's friendly competition was scheduled to be held. Also, in a repeat of the previous occasion, Chuck and Morgan had wished all of the girls luck before kissing Sarah and Alex and hustling across campus to their training table for lunch and afternoon practice. Their own season began the very next week and practices had been more intense of late.
The University of San Francisco was just about as far from Stanford as the Berkeley campus had been, but on the opposite side of the San Francisco Bay. It was a straight shot up Interstate 280 before switching over to US 101, the Bayshore Freeway, then surface streets for the final leg into the university. With all of the trip being through congested areas and the city, Dr. Beckman had allowed for the trip to take a full hour, even if the internet claimed it would be a shorter drive.
Unlike Stanford, the USF campus was broken up across multiple city blocks with blocks of private homes or businesses interspersed between them. Their goal that Saturday was the Presentation Theatre which was located in the School of Education building along Turk Boulevard. Luckily for the driver this time around, there was an easy access parking lot on the west side of the building where she could pull off of the road to allow the Songbirds to exit, before driving over a couple of blocks to the larger lot next to the university's baseball field on Golden Gate Avenue to wait.
Dr. Beckman led the Songbirds in the side entrance next to their drop off point. That entrance was closer to the theatre where the group would be performing. The first thing they saw was the registration table where Dr. Beckman took care of the formalities. Once that was accomplished, a student usher guided them to a dressing room. The ChoirBoyz were around there somewhere, but they hadn't seen them. So far.
The women changed into their 60's outfits and fixed their makeup before helping each other with the hair combs and the somewhat more complicated hairdos they'd chosen for this performance. When that task was completed, the group definitely looked like they'd stepped out of the 1960's. Dr. Beckman gave them her stamp of approval and led them in their warm up exercises. After that, she returned to the theatre to watch the preparations and alert the singers when it was time to join the other groups when the competition started. She just didn't trust the ChoirBoyz to not try some stunt to harm her girls. Dr. Beckman reached the door to their dressing room at the same time the USF usher came to get them. Sarah stopped them, again, before they left the room.
"Remember what happened at Berkeley," Sarah said. "Don't hold back. Give them attitude. Sing your hearts out. No one is better than us, including the ChoirBoyz. You know it and I know it. Let's make sure those judges know it, too." The other girls nodded; their expressions fierce.
"Let's leave those judges as dazed and dreamy as Chuck was on Wednesday," Carina teased.
"You mean you want us to make them want to jump Sarah's bones?" Zondra asked innocently. Sarah blushed crimson causing all of the other women to laugh.
"Bite me," she groused, shaking her head. "The lot of you can just bite me." She tried to ignore the warmth that took hold in her belly at the thought of being with Chuck. Now was not the time to be distracted by such ideas.
"Show us where, Blondie, and we'll be happy to oblige you," her redheaded suitemate retorted. More laughter.
"OK. Enough fooling around," Sarah grinned, raising her hands in a calming gesture." Let's go kick some acapella ass." Still chuckling, the rest of the singers followed her out of the room.
They found themselves in the Presentation Theatre. As was the case the other weekend at Berkeley, there were ten groups competing and the ICCA rules were in force. A set of 5 judges were using the standard score sheets and rating categories. Everything was geared to simulate an official competition. The performance order was, once again, selected randomly. This time the Songbirds weren't as lucky and drew a spot in the middle of the order, but, of course, the ChoirBoyz drew a later spot, but not the last one, for a change. With the preparations completed, the various groups settled in to watch each other perform.
In a repeat of the Berkeley competition, there were a mix of groups. Some were co-ed and some were male-only. There was just one other all-girl group besides the Stanford women. Song choices were varied, as was the performance level. A few of the groups were really impressive. When it was the Songbirds turn, Dr. Beckman led them in their final warm ups before turning control back to the group's leader. Sarah made a point to remind the girls what they'd already seen on stage and fire them up.
"OK. We've seen some pretty good groups out there so far," Sarah warned her fellow singers. "Some not so good ones, for sure, but there's ones we need to keep in mind. And you know the ChoirBoyz will bring it. They always do. And the groups that haven't gone yet. Like I said back in the dressing room, give it everything you've got. I know it's only a friendly, but we've got to set our minds on winning. Right?"
"Right!" The others chorused back.
"No prisoners!" Zondra growled to chuckles in the surrounding group.
"Z's right," Sarah agreed. "No prisoners. Let's go out there and knock 'em dead." She wasn't nervous, but she wished her Chuck was there in the audience, as the group took their places on stage. Their matching outfits and hairstyles from the 'swinging 60's' caught everyone's attention and raised the level of anticipation throughout the audience.
Beca's arrangement had Aubrey, Chloe, and herself taking center stage this time. Sarah gave them the note on her pitch pipe and counted out the tempo. This mash up was different from their last one. Instead of switching back and forth between the two songs, Beca had decided to weave them together. Luckily, their original tempos weren't so different that blending the two songs was that complicated for her skills. Adjusting the key of "I Wish You Loved Me" to match the register of "Wishin' and Hopin'" had proven to be more of a challenge, but she was happy with the result. More importantly, the other girls were happy with the result. The mash up sounded damn good, in all of their opinions.
Something, something as simple as me hearing your name
Puts me in a place that I can't even explain
I really didn't know back then
But right now, I am totally sure
Baby I know I'm your friend
But wishin' and hopin' and thinkin' and prayin'
Plannin' and dreamin' each night of your charms
That won't get me into your arms
Lilly and the harmony singers stood in the back of the group, swaying to the beat she was creating. The melody singers and the lead vocalists moved around each other in a simple, but eye-catching pattern.
I get butterflies when I see yah coming
Oh boy you got me running
This feeling in my stomach
Tells me I should be your woman
Cause you're the only one who makes my fairytale come true
So, I'm lookin' to find love we can share
All I gotta do is hold you, kiss and love you
And show you that I care
Beca's blending of the two songs was perfect. The new song conveyed the idea of a girl hoping for a deeper relationship with a boy and she was working out how to make it happen. It was a great blend of a traditional 1960's pop song with a modern love ballad. Sarah could see lots of people in the audience swaying in time with the music. When the performance came to an end, many in the crowd stood and applauded. The Songbirds had given it everything they had. Now it was up to the judges.
In a sad repeat of Berkeley, the Choirboyz owned the audience again. Bumper Allen was an asshole, but his annoying swagger paid dividends on stage. Their performance was sassy and fun. It wasn't just one thing, it was everything. Every gesture. Every flip of their hands or the smirking tilt of their heads. Even their dance steps had a smug 'fuck you, we got this' thing going on. As much as Sarah and the other Songbirds hated it, they also had to admire it, too. It won the ChoirBoyz competitions and trophies.
To none of the girls' surprise, the ChoirBoyz took first that day. Much to their surprise, they were right behind the boys in second place. Some of the judges had even scored them higher, delighting them and angering Bumper. After saying their goodbyes to the other groups, they changed and clambered back onto their bus for the trip back to school.
"Damn it!" Zondra grumped. "If just one of those asshole judges had awarded us a few more points, we would have won that stupid competition. God! I hate those fucking ChoirBoyz." Her tirade was greeted by a chorus of yeahs. Before Dr. Beckman could speak up, Sarah did.
"You're not wrong, Z," she agreed. "We did a great job today. We came this close," she said, holding her fingers apart, but almost touching. "But the ChoirBoyz and their attitude were still better than us."
"Yeah? Well, fuck them." Zonda retorted.
"Exactly," Sarah smiled.
"Whaddya talking about, Blondie?" Carina asked.
"Fuck them. That's what I'm talking about," Sarah said. "You guys know what we're singing for the quarters, but we're going to ramp up the anger and the attitude. Sing like we're singing 'fuck you' to Bumper directly. We'll go with angry, pissed off women songs for the semis, too. Take all of our frustration and anger at the judges and the ChoirBoyz and channel it into our song and our performance. And I know just the songs I want to use." She turned to Beca.
"Tell me what you're thinking, boss lady," Beca grinned.
"I'm thinking about that Adele mash up you showed the CATS, "Rumour Has It" and "Someone Like You", to build on our song for the quarters, your "Survivor" and "I Will Survive" mash up," Sarah said. "Is the Adele one finished or can you have it by Monday?"
"Oh, yeah! It's ready right now." Beca's grin turned predatory.
"Good," Sarah nodded. "Bring a copy of the lyrics over to our suite when we get back. You and the CATS will work out the choreography tonight and tomorrow. Something simple to learn, but showstopping. I want us to be note and step perfect. Let's see what the ChoirBoyz do with a dozen pissed off warrior women."
Shouts of "Hell yeah!" rocketed around the bus.
"Rest up tomorrow. We're kicking it into high gear ladies, starting Monday," Sarah announced with steel in her voice. "The top two places in the quarters move on to the semis. And we sure as hell are going to make those semis. Then we're going to hit them so hard they won't know what day it is. First place there and nothing less. That's what'll get us to New York. We're going and we're winning that trophy. I'm tired of fucking around." That got the whole bus cheering.
Finally, I guess they just had to get mad enough, Dr. Beckman thought to herself.
February 11
Practice had been abysmal. It was Monday and the season was set to begin that very Friday in Tempe, Arizona at the Angels College Classic tournament. The team looked terrible, possibly the worst they'd practiced all year. They'd slumped into the locker-room and were sitting around feeling sorry for themselves.
"God, we suck," Bryce complained. "I've never booted so many balls in my life before, much less a single practice. We're going to get our asses kicked this weekend." A round of pathetic 'yeahs' and 'uh huhs' greeted Larkin's pearl of wisdom.
"Yeah, I couldn't catch a fly ball to save my life out there," Dave Bice, one of the outfielders, admitted.
"Shit, I might as well have kept the ball in my glove," Rodger Mason, the starting third baseman said. "My throws to first were so bad, I had Shaw running all over the place."
"Like I said, we suck," Larkin whined, staring at the floor.
The coaching staff stood clustered around the locker-room entrance. Graham was getting angrier and angrier. Casey was so mad; Graham could feel the heat coming off of him like he had a fever. The other coaches were just as pissed off. If something didn't happen soon, he knew either he or Casey was going to erupt. He gritted his teeth, "Shaw, don't you have anything to say to your teammates? You are team captain, after all."
"I don't know what to say, Coach," Shaw shrugged. "I agree with them. We sucked out there today."
Graham frowned and snorted his disgust at his team captain and the entire bunch. He was taking a deep breath in preparation of launching into a tirade to try and get the players to snap out of it and stop acting like children when Casey grunted and jerked his head toward Bartowski when he'd gotten the head coach's attention. He could see the lanky pitcher scowling and bouncing his knee in agitation.
"Something on your mind, Bartowski?" Graham demanded.
"Well, Coach … um …," Chuck dithered.
"If you've got something to say, Bartowski, say it. Or shut the hell up," Graham barked. Much to his surprise, the kid didn't back down, but glared at him, instead, before pressing his lips together in determination. Then he stood up.
"Fine. OK, I will," Chuck said, looking around at the rest of the moping players. "What's wrong with all of you?"
"We suck, that's what's wrong," Bryce replied.
"No, we don't suck," Chuck responded. "We're all good players. All of us. Otherwise, those coaches over there," he flung his arm out in the direction of the group of coaches, "wouldn't have recruited us."
"How can you say that, Chuck," Morgan chimed in. "You were out there with us. You saw how bad everything went today."
"Why is everyone only looking at the bad stuff? Huh?" he asked.
"Whaddya talking about Bartowski?" Dennis Freeman, another of the pitchers, asked.
"I'll tell you what I'm talking about," Chuck said, going over to the watercooler. He grabbed one of the clear plastic cups and filled it half full of water, then returned to the middle of the room. Graham perked up when he saw what Chuck was doing.
"He's going to give the speech," Graham whispered.
"What speech is that?" Casey asked softly.
"Coach Marquess's 'Cup Half Full' speech," Graham replied. "He gave us that speech more than once during my time here. I bet Bartowski got it from his dad," he smiled. "This oughta be good."
The players had watched Chuck with the cup, too.
"What's with the cup, Chuck?" Mike Millard wondered.
"This cup that's half full of water represents a choice we all have," Chuck began. "We can either focus on the half full part or the half empty part," he looked around the room and tried to catch each player's eye. "The full part is all of the good stuff that happened out there today and the empty part is all of the bad stuff that happened. Right now, all y'all are looking at is the bad stuff, the empty half of the cup. What you need to focus on is the full half, the good stuff. Don't ignore the bad stuff or forget it. No. But don't wallow in it, either. Focus on the good stuff. Focus on the stuff that went right and learn from the bad stuff, the mistakes and the miscues. Vow to correct them the next time you go out there."
"Baseball is a game of failure that chooses to look at successes," he continued. "Think about it. You go up to bat ten times and make an out six of those times. What do we say?" No one answered him, but they were all listening. "Do we say you have an out average of .600? No, we say you have a batting average, a hitting average really, of .400. And a batting average of .400 makes you a great hitter. A Hall of Fame player." Chuck was getting more enthusiastic as he continued to talk. No one looked away, including the coaches. "Does that happen anywhere else? Like in class or on tests? You think you could go home and tell your parents that you got only four out of ten questions right on a test and have them be happy with you? No, of course not. But in baseball we do. We focus on the positive, just like this cup of water," he gestured with his free hand at the cup he held in the other. "Focus on the half full part of the cup." Before he could continue, Dave Bice interrupted him.
"But our cups weren't even half full out there today, Chuck. They were empty," Bice complained.
"You mean like this?" Chuck asked as he turned the cup upside down and poured the water out on the floor.
"Yeah, just like that," Bice agreed.
"You think this cup is empty?" Chuck demanded.
"Of course, it's empty. You just poured all of the water out."
"Uh Oh," Graham whispered. "This is new."
"What do you mean?" Casey asked.
"This wasn't part of Marquess's cup speech," he responded. They quieted as Chuck walked up to the outfielder and started speaking again.
"Take a closer look, Dave," Chuck encouraged his friend. "Is the cup really empty?" Dave looked closely at the cup then shook his head no. Chuck nodded his head once and began to walk around the room giving each player a chance to examine the cup. Returning to the center of the room, he resumed speaking.
"Y'all saw. The cup isn't empty. Not completely. There are still a few drops of water clinging to the inside," he said sincerely. "Those drops still represent things that went right. Maybe, you warmed up really great or had a good session in the batting cage." Some of the players were shaking their heads no. "Or if not those things, then maybe you felt good putting on your uniform. You looked at yourself in the mirror and thought 'man, I look good today. I look like a baseball player'. If that's too much, then maybe it was you waking up this morning thinking about the upcoming season and how excited you are to get started playing actual games instead of all of the practices. There's always something positive you can focus on. Something you can build on. A good grade in a class. Or a tasty breakfast you had to begin the day," he paused. "Or a nice kiss you shared with your girlfriend." That got a few laughs.
"Not everyone is dating the most beautiful girl on campus like you are, Bartowski," Mac Henderson snarked. Chuck had the good sense to look sheepish.
"Guilty as charged," he grinned and got a few laughs. "But y'all know what I'm trying to say, too. The only way to truly empty that cup is to work at making it empty. Take a towel and dry it out. That'd be like trying to play baseball as badly as you could on purpose. None of us do that. The only other way to empty it is to let it sit there and neglect it. Leave it alone and let the water evaporate. That would be just quitting. Giving up. Stop practicing and letting the other teams walk all over us. Or quitting the team outright. Does anyone want to do that? Just give up and quit?" More than a few of the players yelled no.
Chuck nodded. "I didn't think so. I don't want to quit, either," he admitted. "What I do want to do is come back out here tomorrow and work harder so I'm ready for those games this weekend. I want to put some water back in this cup. Who's gonna be out there with me?" Now players stood and replied 'ME!". Chuck smiled and nodded.
Graham stepped in. "Great! I'm glad to hear it. Now, everyone hit the showers and be back here tomorrow ready to work. We've got games to prepare for this weekend."
Shaw stepped up to Chuck and said, "Thanks, Chuck. You really bailed my sorry ass out there. I thought Graham was going to wring my neck."
"I didn't do anything, Daniel," Chuck demurred. "My dad has given me that speech a thousand times. All I did was repeat it."
"Thanks, just the same," the senior smiled.
As the players shucked their practice uniforms into the laundry cart, Graham called Chuck over.
"I know your dad gave you most of that speech, didn't he, Chuck," Graham grinned.
Chuck grinned back, "Yes, Sir. He used it on me more than once. When I got older, he told me about y'all's Coach Marquess and how he stole that speech from him."
"It's a good speech. Very appropriate for this moment," Graham smiled. "But that last part about the empty cup wasn't part of Marquess's original speech. Where did that come from?"
Chuck shrugged. "I got the idea from an old DC comic about the Legion of Superheroes," he explained. "Some of them were captured by a bad guy and put in prisons designed to thwart each hero's particular superpower. It looked hopeless, but once they calmed down, they discovered that each prison had a tiny flaw that they could exploit to escape. Like the tiny drops in the cup, there was still hope. They just had to find it."
"I'll have to remember that," his coach nodded. "You're a nerd Bartowski. You know that?"
"Yeah, Coach. One hundred percent grade A nerd, that's me," Chuck gave them one of his full Bartowski smiles.
"Good, just so you realize it," Graham laughed. "Now go hit the shower. We'll see you tomorrow." Chuck nodded and trotted off.
"I was wondering when that would happen," Casey commented. "The kid didn't disappoint."
"No, he didn't. Not at all. Now, I'm really looking forward to this season," Graham admitted.
February 16
The team had flown out of the San Jose International Airport on a chartered flight to Tempe, Arizona on Thursday afternoon. Sarah and Alex had been on hand at the parking lot outside Klein Field for all of the fanfare of the sendoff as their men boarded the bus that was to take them on the first leg of their trip.
"I wish we could go with you, babe," Sarah had pouted with her lower lip stuck out as far as she could. She was so adorable that Chuck hadn't been able to stop himself from chuckling at her antics. When she'd given him a mock glare, he'd known it was time to make amends.
"I wish y'all could go with us, too," he'd shrugged sadly. "You'll just have to listen to the games on the radio or over the internet live feed."
"I know, but it won't be the same as being there cheering you guys on," Sarah had complained.
"Maybe you could get a group to listen with you," Morgan had suggested. "That's kind of like being in a crowd together at the game."
"The problem with that, sweetie, is we can't give you kisses once the game is over," Alex had chided her boyfriend.
"Bank 'em," Morgan had shrugged. "Save 'em up and give them to us when we get back." He'd given his girlfriend a cheeky grin.
"All at once? Four games worth?" Alex had asked. "Are you sure about that? All of those kisses at one time might kill you," she'd teased.
"I'm willing to risk it," Morgan had waggled his eyebrows, attempting (and failing) to imitate his friend. "I have but one set of lips to give for my country. Give me kisses or give me death." Alex had just snorted and shaken her head.
"Geez, Morgs. That was terrible," Chuck had admonished his bearded friend. "I don't know much, but I know that was bad." Sarah had just giggled at their goofing around. Right that moment, the coaches had called on the players to wrap up their goodbyes and board the bus. Alex and Morgan had hugged and kissed one more time before parting. Chuck had held Sarah gently and lingered over their kiss, before he, too, boarded the bus. The two women had stood watching the bus drive off until they couldn't see it anymore before beginning their walk back to the dorm.
Now, it was Saturday evening and a large group of students was congregating in the Roble Hall lounge. Someone had speakers plugged into a laptop and was playing the Stanford campus radio live stream of the baseball game broadcast. The CATS, Alex, and some of the other Songbirds were part of the crowd.
"This is Big Mike Tucker with Cardinal Sports Radio, KZSU 90.1 FM on your dial, (recorded intro: 'Biiiig MIKE!') bringing you live Cardinal baseball. Today's game is between our own Stanford Cardinal team and the Shockers of Wichita State. It's a beautiful clear evening here at Diablo Stadium in Tempe, Arizona. Before we begin, I'd like to thank the sponsor of tonight's broadcast, Happy Donuts. You know what I always say, donuts make me happy. So, head on down to Happy Donuts on the El Camino Real in Palo Alto and let them make you happy, too. They're sure to have a tasty treat to satisfy every pastry lover. Now back to our broadcast."
"A quick recap of yesterday's match against Ball State. Senior Mac Henderson was rock solid through six and a third innings before giving up a triple to Ball State's Griffin Hulecki. Mac Daddy finished the night with eleven strikeouts against no walks, but was charged with the tying run when the next batter the Cardinal bullpen faced hit a sacrifice fly to left fielder Dave Bice to bring Hulecki home. That was the only Ball State run of the game, as our bullpen shut them down after that. Stanford's runs came in the third inning when right fielder Chris Ebersole reached on an error by Ball State's center fielder and was able to advance all the way to third on the play. Ebersole scored on catcher Carlos Gomez's sacrifice fly to center. The winning run came in the bottom of the seventh when Cardinal third baseman Rodger Mason tripled to right field and scored on a single by the DH (designated hitter) Big Bobby Malcolm."
"On the mound today for the Stanford nine is Chuck Bartowski. He's in his first year with the squad, but he comes with plenty of buzz having turned down the pro draft last summer for a chance to wear the cardinal jersey. He's a tall lanky left-hander with a reputed arsenal of pitches to keep the Shockers guessing. The other half of the battery (pitcher and catcher collectively) is Morgan Grimes, a childhood friend of Bartowski's. Time will tell if their lifelong friendship pays dividends for Stanford on the diamond. Stanford is the visitor this time around, so we'll have to wait a bit to see what young Bartowski's got in store for us."
Sarah looked around at the crowd of people before turning to her suitemates.
"Wow, there sure are a lot of people here listening to the game," she marveled.
"What's so amazing about that, Blondie?" Zondra said, surprised. "A number of the players live in the dorms around here and people know who they are, particularly Curls and Morgan. Your boy-toy's antics for the last six months have gotten people interested," she grinned at Sarah's glare for the 'boy-toy' quip.
Sarah was nibbling on her lower lip, nervously. Good luck, baby, she thought.
"… It's the middle of the first inning. Stanford has the lead, one to nothing, thanks to Rodger Mason's walk that eventually scored when Wichita State's right fielder bobbled Bryce Larkin's ball and Mason was able to make It all the way home. The run was unearned, but it counts just the same. It looks like Bartowski's finished with his warm up throws. Yup, he's come off the mound for a short talk with Grimes before they both retreat to their proper places. Here we go."
Sarah took a deep breath and crossed her fingers. "Go get 'em, Chuck," she whispered.
"Up first for the Shockers is the second baseman, Alex Jackson. Bartowski's in his windup … and the pitch … STRIKE! That was a fastball on the outside corner of the plate. 92 miles-per-hour it says on the scoreboard. Welcome to Cardinal baseball, Mr. Bartowski … The windup aaand … the pitch … STRIKE two! Another fastball, this time inside near his hands. It really ate him up. No chance for Jackson to even swing as it caught the inside part of the plate, but caused him to step back. Lookin' good, Bartowski. Lookin' good. He's ready to go again … aaand … a hit. A hit! Jackson's laced one down the third baseline and into the corner. Bice retrieved it and threw it in to Larkin, but Jackson legged out a double. The kid took an 0-2 (no balls and two strikes) pitch that caught a little too much of the plate and made Bartowski pay with a double. A setback for Bartowski. Let's see what the kid does next."
"Third baseman Luke Ritter is up next for the Shockers … Bartowski's gotta pitch from the stretch now … He's got the sign from Grimes aaand he throws a wild pitch! A wild pitch! No chance for Grimes to field that one cleanly. Jackson makes it to third standing up on that mistake from Bartowski. Grimes is out from behind the plate to talk to his friend. Trying to calm him down."
Sarah felt like crying. She hurt for Chuck so badly. This wasn't going right at all. She closed her eyes. Please, please. Please, baby, be OK. I wish I could be there with you. You can do this. Take a deep breath, baby. You can do this. Someone squeezed her hand and she opened her eyes to see Carina looking at her sympathetically.
"Hang in there, Sarah. It's just first game jitters. Like in our competitions. The first ones are always the worst. He'll settle down," the redhead smiled gently. "He's got too many people pulling for him to do otherwise. It'll be OK. You'll see."
"I hope you're right, Red. I really do," Sarah said, pursing her lips and twisting them to the side in worry.
"… Ritter worked the count full (3-2), fouling off some good pitches from Bartowski. Now, here's the pitch aaand … he walked him. Bartowski walked him. The Shockers have two men on, first and third, and no outs. Bartowski's in trouble. With all of his hype, I might be disappointed, but I'm betting it's first game nerves. First time pitching in a big college game. We'll see if I'm right. What's this kid made of?"
"Center fielder Jacob Katzfey is the next batter. Bartowski's got the sign, looks the runners back and sends it home … Another ball, high and outside. Bartowski gets the ball back and steps off the mound and uses the rosin bag. A couple of deep breaths. Now, he's back on the bump … toes the rubber … gets the sign … and let's fly … a STRIKE. He swung on it and missed! That pitch was a thing of beauty. It looked like a slider low and on the inside half of the plate to me. Not bad, not bad. The count is 1-1. Bartowski's ready … the sign … aaand he smacked it! It's a long fly ball to right field. Ebersole, the right fielder, is under it. Got it! He throws it in to Millard at second, holding Ritter at first. Jackson scored on the sacrifice. One out and one in. The score's now tied 1 to 1."
Sarah wanted to run back to her room and hide under the covers in her bed. She felt so helpless! Her Chuck was suffering and she couldn't do anything about it. He was hundreds of miles away from her. God, she hated Wichita State. What a stupid name for a school. She'd like to give them a shock! See how they liked it. Shitheads. People saw the scowl on her face and a few gave her pats in the back trying to comfort her. When she had calmed down enough to listen to the radio again, she wished she hadn't.
"… Wichita's Cadena started out with three straight balls, but Bartowski worked the count full with that foul ball. With a full count, here's the payoff pitch … STRIKE! He struck out looking. Bartowski caught him looking with that purdy, purdy curveball. Ritter stole second, but it's two outs now. Bartowski was in the hole, 3-0, and he gutted out a strikeout. Good stuff, kid. Noah Croft, the first baseman, is up next. Bartowski gets the sign from Grimes … looks at Ritter on second … and throws … a strike, inside, high and tight, but still a strike according to the umpire behind the plate. Here's the 0-1 pitch … aaand … it's another strike! That change up nearly screwed him into the ground he swung so hard at it. OK. Two out and the count's 0-2. Bartowski leans in … takes the sign … Here's the pitch … pop up! A weak pop up to second base and Millard's got it for the out. The inning's over. Whew! I don't know who got more of a workout, Bartowski or me! Time for a word from another sponsor, Ike's Love and Sandwiches on Lytton Avenue in Palo Alto. Ike's Love and Sandwiches, this ain't your momma's sandwich shop …"
Sarah breathed a huge sigh of relief. That had been excruciating. How in the world am I going to survive listening to the rest of this game, much less watch one in person, she thought? My God! How does he do it? Big Mike didn't say anything about Chuck passing out or running from the stadium, so he must have some way to cope. I'm not even the one pitching and I'm a mess. Sarah shook her head at herself.
"Are you ready for round two?" Zondra asked her. "Will you be able to survive till the end of the game, Sarah?" she teased.
"I don't know," Sarah said honestly. "This may just kill me."
"Welcome to the wide, wide world of sports," the brunette laughed.
And it did get better, but not before it got worse. Chuck gave up three hits and two runs in the bottom of the second inning which put Wichita State ahead, 3-1. Stanford answered with three runs in the top of the third to put them back up, 4-3. Morgan had been the leadoff batter and walked on four pitches, before going on to score the first run of the inning. Chuck walked a guy in the bottom of the third, but didn't give up any runs and he retired the rest of the side in the fourth, three up and three down with the last two being swinging strikeouts. He seems to have calmed down and gotten past the difficulties he'd had in the early innings. Sarah began to relax and breathe easier. She felt even better when Chuck struck out the first batter in the fifth inning, giving him three strikeouts in a row.
"… Ritter, the Shocker third baseman, is digging in with one out on the board. Bartowski's pitch count is creeping up there, but he's been looking better and better as the game has gone on. Looks like I was right about those first game jitters in the early innings. The count stands at 2-2. He's got the sign from Grimes … and it's a foul ball off over the first base dugout. Grimes gets a new ball from the home plate umpire and tosses it to Bartowski. He sets, gets the sign … the windup and the pitch … another foul. A long ball that curved foul off on the right side just shy of the right field foul pole. Bartowski better be careful here. It looks like Ritter is getting locked in on his pitches. Seeing the ball really well right now. We'll know in a minute. The sign … windup … aaand the pitch … OH! He smashed it! Bartowski tried to throw it by him on the outside edge of the plate, but Ritter was ready and he swatted it. Deep to left field and it's gone! Homerun! He got all of that one. He hit it so hard it was outta here before he even finished swinging. And look at that! Bartowski is tipping his cap to Ritter and smiling. They were in a battle and Ritter won, fair and square. I'm glad Bartowski is a good sportsman, but I'd rather he not be so happy about giving up monster home runs like that one was. The question is, what did it do to Bartowski's head? He was gaining some confidence out there the last few innings and that home run might have just undone all of that."
Sarah put her head in her hands and groaned. Alex didn't say a word, just gave her a tight hug. Luckily, Chuck got the next batter, Katzfey to fly out to center field on a 2-2 pitch. Cadena ended the inning by striking out swinging when Chuck was ahead in the count 1-2. His pitch count was in the high 70's, so he wouldn't be pitching for too much longer. He got the first two batters in the bottom of the sixth inning to strike out swinging, which brought up Jake Plastiak, the Wichita State DH (designated hitter).
"… Bartowski's beginning to look a little worn out there. He took care of the first two batters on eight pitches between them, so we'll see how long Bradbury and Graham leave him out there. Plastiak steps in the box … Bartowski gets the sign … throws … aaand it's a strike. The batter just looked at a beautiful curveball that buckled his knees. OK, that's 0-1. The sign … windup … and heeeere's the throw … swing! … and a miss! Strike two! Bartowski is gutting it out. Showing a lot of heart after that rough start. Plastiak calls time and steps out of the box. Takes a couple of practice swings. Steps back in and digs his spikes into the dirt. Bartowski gets the sign … nods … the windup … aaaaand the pitch … STRIKE THREE! Plastiak looked at a strike right down the middle. Just stared at it as it went by into Grimes' glove. What a sweet pitch that was! Three up, three down. Three strikeouts on eleven pitches. That's Bartowski's best inning, yet. And that might be it for him, too. By my calculation his pitch count sits at 91. That's a good outing for Bartowski and his first college game. Let's see if the coaches agree with me. If they do pull him before the bottom of the next inning, his stat line will be 6 innings pitched, 5 hits including a homerun, 4 runs, all of them earned, 2 walks, and 10 strikeouts on 91 pitches. A little rough there at the start, but all in all, not a bad first outing for young Bartowski. Really like those strikeouts."
Rodger Mason hit a triple to right field for Stanford at the top of the seventh inning. Dave Bice lifted a sacrifice fly to deep center field and Mason scored what turned out to be the final run of the game. They did pull Chuck before the start of the bottom half of the seventh inning and went to the bullpen for the final three innings. The relief crew held the Shockers scoreless until the end of the game. It had been nerve-racking, but Stanford pulled it out, 5-4, putting them at 2-0 for the young season. Since Chuck had still been the pitcher of record when Stanford went ahead, he was credited with the win.
"Oh, God, Chuck! Congratulations on getting that win, you did great! But that was so tough to listen to," Sarah pouted over the phone later that night. "You were having a hard time at the beginning and I was so worried about you! Once things got better, I relaxed, but oh my God, baby! It was sort of freaking me out there for a while."
The tiredness he'd been feeling instantly fled when he heard the sincerity and concern in his girlfriend's voice. "It was pretty rough out there to begin with, I won't lie," Chuck replied. "I didn't expect to have nervous jitters like I did. Caught me off guard. Mac Henderson and the other pitchers talked me through it. Got me calmed down. I owe them a lot," he smiled at the memory. "Coach Bradbury and Coach Graham were a big help, too. They told me that they had confidence in me and they wanted to give me a chance to work it out. That was a huge help. The guys on the field and in the dugout gave me a ton of support. It was really great to be part of a team again."
"You're already on a team, Chuck," Sarah teased. "My team. And I'll show you how I treat people on my team when you get back here to me."
"Don't torture me like that," he faux whined. "I miss you so much, Sarah! I can't wait to be back on campus. After so many days apart, I'm pretty sure that my lips will be all out of shape. I'll probably need extra workouts to be ready for your team." His eyes went a little unfocused as he daydreamed about spending extra time with his wonderful girlfriend.
"Extra workouts, huh?" she smirked. "Pretty sure of yourself, aren't you Bartowski?"
"The only thing I'm sure about is that I can't live without you, Sarah," Chuck said honestly.
Sarah's heart nearly burst out of her chest; it was beating so hard. That had come out of nowhere. Oh my God! She could dance on the ceiling right now; she was so happy.
"I feel the same way, sweetie. Come home to me as soon as you can, I miss you so, so much," Sarah's voice dripped honey. "I'm anxious to get started on getting your lips back up to fighting form." His laugh was music to her ears.
"I'm done for the weekend after the game tonight," Chuck replied. "I'll rest tomorrow then begin the preparation cycle for my game next Saturday. Mostly, I'll be cheering on my teammate for the next two games."
"I'll be listening. It won't be as hard as listening when you were pitching," Sarah confessed. "I am looking forward to seeing you pitch in person, though. I'll be in the stands cheering you on to victory."
"From your lips to the baseball gods' ears, babe," he said. Baseball players are superstitious. Chuck was no exception, despite his other gifts.
A/N2: Chapter title comes from the song by Jack Norworth and Albert Von Tilzer. It was originally written in 1908 and has been sung by many people. First performed as a vaudeville song, it was played at a ballpark for the first known time in 1934 at a high school game in Los Angeles. Now, it's sung at almost every game at every level, usually in the middle of the seventh inning.
A/N3: There is a Palo Alto Little League and it does provide a Challenger League team for people between the age of 4 and 18 with physical or intellectual challenges that plays other similar teams in the Bay Area. Stanford does do community outreach, but Cardinal Cares is a name I invented/borrowed. In real life Cardinal Care (not Cares) is the name of the university health insurance program.
A/N4: On a personal note, my wife and I have friends we've known for 40 years. They have twin sons who are autistic. I tried to bring a little bit of their life into this chapter. Whether I succeeded or failed, anyone facing that challenge has my full support.
A/N5: The Angels College Classic is an early season college tournament held at the Los Angeles Angels spring training facility in Tempe, Arizona. Diablo Stadium is the main field in the complex. The plays I describe in the chapter are plays from actual Stanford games in the tournament, but the Stanford players are fictional.
A/N6: WillieGarvin hits grand slams with his beta reading and advice. He has my continued thanks. WG's a firm candidate for the fan fiction hall of fame, for sure.
A/N7: Thank you for reading. Please drop me a PM or leave a review. Let me know what you think. For those of you who have left reviews or PMs previously, thank you. I appreciate each and every one of them.
A/N8: If you enjoy Chuck fan fiction here on the fanfic site, go over to Facebook and join the Chuck Fanfiction group that's there. You'll find nice folks who share your interest in our favorite spy couple. You are not alone.