Page 3 of Batter Up!

“We’re from New York. How about you?”

“We’re from Tennessee,” he said.

“That sucks. That’s so far away,” I said with a tint of sadness in my voice. “What position do you play?”

“Only the most important position. My coach lets me help research the different players we play against. I also have to know what pitches our own guys can pitch and when it is a good time to throw a certain pitch against a certain hitter,” he said with a puffed out chest as we sat down under the tree.

“You must be the catcher on your team, then,” I said.

“Yes! So you know about baseball?”

“I love baseball!” I said excitedly, and my heart skipped a beat at how he laughed along with me.

We sat under the tree and talked about our favorite baseball players and teams, our favorite baseball memory, and everything about baseball. I have no idea how much time had passed, but I didn’t want this time with him to end.

“Most boys get intimidated because I know so much about baseball.”

“No way!” he said with a grin. “It’s cute as hell. Someday, I’m going to be in the major leagues, and I’ll want a girl who knows about baseball and appreciates it. She’ll have to understand how much I’ll be gone.”

“Any specific team you hope to play for?” I asked as I picked a dandelion and started making a flower chain.

“Nah. I just want to play ball. My oldest brother is a better player than I am, and he wants to play for the Yankees someday. He can play every position, but he’s best in the outfield, and he’s super fast. He’s going to make it, too. My big dream is to throw him out in the bigs when he tries to steal against my team.”

“That would be awesome,” I grinned, loving the spirit of rivalry between the brothers and wishing I’d had siblings. “The Yanks are the best! That’s my team! What about your other brother?” I asked, wondering if all three were into sports.

He just shrugged. “He plays ball with us, but he doesn’t love it like we do. He loves taking things apart and putting them back together.”

I wasn’t sure what kind of things he would take apart and put together, but I didn’t get a chance to ask because his brothers both came over, covered head to toe in mud.

“How ya feeling, bro?” his brother asked. I couldn’t even tell which one asked because of all the mud.

“Totally fine,” he responded, but I could tell he was annoyed with them for interrupting us.

“Good! We’re playing in an hour. We gotta head over and clean up and get ready for warm ups.”

“You’re going to watch us, right?” He asked as he stood up, then turned to look at me as he reached his hand down to help pull me up.

“Of course,” I said with a grin and stood up next to him. I didn’t miss the fact that our hands were still linked. “I wouldn’t miss it.”

“You’ll be my good luck charm,” he said sweetly.

“Yeah, a good luck charm that almost killed you with hazelnuts,” the other brother said with a cackle.

“Shut up, C,” he said, letting go of my hand to punch him in the arm. He seemed to miss the contact because he reached back over and intertwined our fingers together again. The butterflies were back in my belly and making it feel very warm.

“Can I get your number?” he asked.

“Oh. I wish, but I don’t have a phone,” I said shyly. “My grandparents don’t believe I should have one until I’m at least sixteen.”

“Ouch. That sucks,” one of the brothers said, and I nodded in agreement. I never wanted my own phone more than I did right now, so I could keep in contact with this green-eyed cutie.

“Boys! You better get going, or you’ll be late, and Coach Johnson won’t start you,” I heard their mom yell from the check in tent. “T, are you feeling okay to play?”

“Yes, Mom, I am,” he replied and then brushed his lips against my cheek. “Bye, Strawberry Shortcake.”

T was now my favorite letter in the alphabet.

Minor league baseball teams don't hold open tryouts, and the path players take to reach the minors isn't always simple. Either way, they were all scouted and watched by someone along their journey to the pros.

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