"Good... now that the 'love fest' is over," said the coach. "We can start on actually playing baseball."
The whole team let out a yell, well most of the veterans sighed a deep moan.
"'A' squad line up and we'll play a scrimmage game." instructed the coach.
9 players went to their respective positions and 9 others lined up on the first base line. The first in the row stepped up to the plate, as I noticed some scouts came filing into the bleachers behind me.
I was on the C squad so I wouldn't get a chance to play for maybe 3 hours.
The batter took up his stance and eyed the pitcher. The pitcher looked back at the batter, then to the catcher. He nodded as he got his pitch and slowly moved his body back up to an upright position. He checked his location and let the ball fly out of his hand with a slight arc towards the catchers glove. It landed with a pop in the catchers' glove.
"Strike one!" yelled the umpire from behind the plate.
I ran back into the clubhouse to grab my notebook so I could take some notes and be able to know what I was up against when I went up to bat, be it now or in the future.
I got back and sat in my spot in between Chuck and Butch.
"This guy has an arm..." whispered some scouts behind me. I paid no attention as I leaned over towards Chuck and whispered myself,
"Watch his head. However much he tilts it is how much break the ball will have. Just watch." I explained.
The pitcher got his sign again as I scribbled in my notebook Cyrano tilits head, ball moves in same direction.. He gripped the ball tighter in his hand, I noticed, as he went into his delivery. The ball zoomed out of his hand and was clocked at 96 MPH. I heard some commotion in the stands as the scouts started clapping. One I thought looked familiar but couldn't place where I saw him last...
I moved my focus back to the field as the umpire yelled, "Strike two!" at the batter.
The pitchers face changed from dull to a slight grin as he was starting to have fun. The sign, the wind, and the delivery. "Steeeerike THREE!" yelled the ump. The catcher threw the ball "around the horn" as the pitcher started to laugh.
"These guys do show emotion." I thought to myself as I started to write where the pitch locations were in my notebook.
"This is going to be a great season." I thought, again, as I watched and took notes for the next 3 innings. Scrimmage games only last about 3 innings here because the coach wants everyone to get their work in. It was my turn to pitch in the 8th inning, so I put on my glove, my hat, and my sunglasses as I trotted out to the mound.
I slid the toe of my shoe back and forth next to the rubber and dug my fingers into the laces of the ball. I could feel the hot Florida sun beat down on my back as I stared in towards the catcher awaiting my sign for my pitch. I have 4 pitches, see. So whenever the catcher puts down 1, 2, 3, or 4 fingers that represent the pitch he wants me to throw. Sometimes catchers (if they think the runner on second base is stealing the signs) will change up the numbers or add math to it.
So say he puts down a 1 then a 3, I know to throw my fourth pitch, which, in this case, would be my slider.
Also catchers will tap the side of their legs to show which side of the plate they want the pitch to be on.
3, inside. Now I know to throw my circle-change up on the inside half of the plate.
I gripped the ball, toed the rubber, leaned forward pushing all my weight to my front foot and released the white object hurling it towards the batter.
It seemed to approach him in slow motion as it crept over the lush, green grass. It landed with a smack in the catchers' glove as the batter swung and missed.
"Strike ONE!" yelled the umpire.
The catcher threw the ball back as I caught it with a smile that reached ear-to-ear.
"This..." I thought, "Will be an awfully big adventure.