Page 159 of Chasing Headlines
The starting pitcher took the mound. Rylander, a senior and a right-hander from Mississippi who didn't get many starts last year. He'd mainly taken on a long reliever role. But Eberhardt had been working with the pitching platoon, challenging the whole lot, trying them in different roles during fall ball.
But none of our pitching lineup were getting looks from the scouts. It was still early for the ‘fish’, but it was Rylander’s, Ryles’s, senior year—and he wasn't turning any heads.
He wound up and delivered a pitch over the plate. High and tight. Too high, ball one.
The Arizona U leadoff hitter stepped out of the batters’ box and took a practice swing. I glanced over at the home team dugout. Eberhardt leaned against the railing, observing Rylander's every move.
That's really where I need to be. At the bottom of the inning, I'd check to see if my press pass would get me there.
I’m sure my baseball boyfriend will be thrilled to see me.My heart thudded painfully against my ribs. I had plenty of friends inside that dugout.That’s all that matters.
“Take your base.” The umpire pointed at first.
I groaned.That, and getting a damned batter out.“Come on Rylander—throw some damned strikes!”
(Breslin)
The first game of the season always played rougher than the rest. I'd never sat out an exhibition game before, but this was definitely the pits. Rylander didn't make it two innings. Pretty sure he walked half the Arizona Black Bear roster, including gift wrapping and handing them a run in each of the two he “pitched”.I'd definitely use the term loosely if I were you.
“Geez, what a lousy start.” I shook my head and sat down on the bench.
“Yeah. He looked like a ghost out there. Not sure what the deal was, but I couldn't calm him down.” Jimenez ducked into the dugout. He set down his glove and mask, and made quick work of usdx.
The other team took the field as our dugout came alive: shuffling and grumbling, shucked gloves and tossed water bottles.
“We need our offense to catch on.”
“Yeah. I've heard that's how it all works.” Jimenez leaned against the rail.
“You're a real asshole.”
“Used to be nice. Then I started hanging around you.” He pointed at me. “Pretty sure if all the assholes in the world got together, they'd elect you king.”
I rolled my eyes. “You don't elect kings.”What a dick.
“Assholes would.”
“You’re just a wannabe asshole, then.” I tucked my hands behind my head.
“You gonna insult the guys who actually go on the field 'mano?” He frowned down at me. “Or you gonna do something to liven this place up?”
“Like what? I don't usually sit the bench.”
“You ever heard of, I dunno, cheering for your team? I think even an asshole can manage that.”
I stood up and took the spot next to him at the rail. “They have to do something worth cheering for.”
Crack! The ball sailed toward the right field fence. Jimenez nudged my shoulder. “Get out!” He yelled at the ball. It looked short of a home run, but I figured it didn't hurt.
“Come on, go!”
It hit off the top of the fence and bounced into play. Stanton took a wide turn at first base. He raced toward second. The right fielder heaved the ball at the cutoff man.
“Slide!” I yelled and half climbed the railing out onto the field.
Arizona's second baseman stepped off the base to catch the throw. He snagged it and swiped at Stanton. He slid under the tag. Safe.
“Yeah!” I clapped as Jimenez whistled.