I'm playing on the Piermont baseball team, since Rivendell didn't have enough players for two teams, and too many for one team, so they had to send some players to Piermont. The home field is only five or ten minutes farther than the Rivendell field, but the team is young for majors, and we have just barely enough people for the field. Also, we haven't won a single game yet.
On Memorial Day we played Haverhill, the easiest team besides our self in the league. They batted first, since it was an away game for them, and let me just say that their first in the order batter is a bit of a character. He's short and chubby, and he walks up to the plate like he's the main attraction, then bends over, putting his left hand above him in a signal for the pitcher to wait, then brings the bat high above his head with his right hand, keeping his left hand in the air this whole time. Then he slams the bat down on the plate, looking at it intently like he's trying to talk to it through his mind. He repeats this process of slamming the bat down maybe... seven times? Watching this from my front row seat as catcher, I can't help being mad at the kid for vandalizing our home plate, overcome with hilarity, and wondering if he was the one who put two holes in Topsham Corinth's home plate.
We did not do well with defense in our first defensive inning, bringing on our turn to bat with five runs scored against us.
I was top of the order, as I have been every game except for the first two. I got a hit, since their pitcher pitched mostly strikes, each with such little velocity he pitched in an arc, with the ball just barely clearing the plate, instead of a straight line like most other pitchers. As I said, I got a hit, a big pop-fly in between second and third, which was easily caught on the fringe of the grass. The next out came when our second batter, Ethan, who's also our other catcher, hit it right up the middle like he always does, if a bit into right field, and made it to second. He then stole third, sliding in only to be "accidently" pushed off by the third baseman, who tagged him. I don't know how our third out came, but I'm guessing it was from our third batter, since I don't remember anyone getting on base for our team in the first inning.
Ethan was pitching for the first two innings, then Ellis (the coach's kid and our fourth batter, who's my friend) was pitching for the next two innings. In the third inning the coach put me on first, instead of having me as catcher. I hadn't been expecting to be put on first, I thought I would either catch again or pitch, so I was a bit surprised. The coach thought I was surprised because I never played first and didn't know what to do. I did know what to do from watching Ellis (also our normal first baseman). The coach reassured me anyway, telling me I'd do fine and didn't have to worry.
That inning I got a ground ball hit right to me while another player was still on first. I single-handedly performed a double play, easily tagging the hesitant player on first and stepping on first base for the force out. I got the third out for the inning when a ground ball was hit right to me again, letting me easily tag first while the runner had barely gotten halfway there.
Then I pitched in the fifth and sixth innings, after I played first one more time in the fourth. By the end of the fifth inning the score was seven to eight, with Haverhill still in the lead. Haverhill had scored their three more points in the second, third, and fourth innings, none in the fifth. The first two outs in the fifth came when Ellis caught one ball that must have been something like one hundred feet in the air. I caught a weaker one, which was longer than the first, which had only gone forty feet. I struck out the next batter.
The top of the sixth inning was a one (pause while Haverhill gets one person on base) two-three inning. The batter who got on base stole to third, but was prevented from stealing home, thanks to a couple of Ethan's superb catches when I threw way outside of the strike zone.
In the bottom of the sixth the starting order was the three last batters, also the three least-experienced batters. The second-to-last batter is in third grade, even though a third grader should be in minors, not majors. The third-to-last has a really powerful swing, but bad luck, so that whenever he connects with the ball, it hits the very bottom of the bat, and stops a foot in front of the plate. The last batter just... well, he'll swing at most pitches, since he and his Grandma have a deal that if he swings he'll get a Fortnite card. (Fortnite is some game that a bunch of kids and adults like, but other than that, I have no earthly clue what a Fortnite card is.) The only pitches he doesn't swing at, he either bunts, or almost gets hit with, turning the wrong way and exposing his face and front, instead of his back.
After those three in the order, it's me, our first batter. In other words, if one of them gets on base, I'm up. If all three get out, well then boom, game's over, we lost. Our third-to-last batter struck out. Our second-to-last batter got walked. (This would have been more of a victory if I hadn't known him to steal even when the catcher catches the ball, easily throws it to second, where the second baseman tags him when he steps off the base.) There have also been multiple times when he's just barely stayed safe, stealing third and home, along with his accomplice, our last batter. Our last batter struck out too.
Two outs. Seven to eight. Last inning. This is just the sort of time when the main character in a sports book gets two strikes, then miraculously wins the game for their team. Guess what? I got two strikes. I believe that one was a foul, which meant I could hit off this pitcher. I already knew that. Next pitch, I slammed it way into left field. The second-to-last batter, who was now on second, could have made it home. He stubbornly stayed on second, the little &%#@!. Ethan made it to two strikes, then fouled all the other balls way over the backstop and into the pasture across the road where we lose all our balls. Then he slammed it into centerfield, getting a reluctant-to-run-home second-to-last batter home, but still only at the third base coach's urging. Ethan also hit me to third, getting himself a double and an RBI.
Our third batter got two strikes and three balls on her, full count. Then a fourth ball that the catcher couldn't catch, letting me steal home safely, winning the game.
I came into the dugout and everyone started slamming my helmet, and everyone was jostling everyone else, celebrating. One of the heartiest slammers, Ethan (who by the way has been known to ask me "what do you like better, this..." He goes dink dink dink on my helmet. "Or this?" He goes SLAM! SLAM! SLAM!) comes around well I have my helmet only half way off, and asserts his extreme delight with one of his biggest slams. It was totally awesome.
Afterwards we went out for ice cream. (This was due to persistent convincing on my part.) This was the first time we had gone out to ice cream after a home game, and my mom was not very impressed when my assurances of the company of the rest of my team came to us and two other people buying something at the store. The whole rest of the team came, as a matter of fact, except for one. I had fun with Ethan and Ellis and Elias and everyone else there who wasn't sitting seriously and eating their ice cream. (Elias is our most consistent pitcher, I do better than him when I'm having a good night pitching, but most of the time he does a little or a lot better than me, depending on how I'm pitching, not how he is. The only reason we didn't use him that game was that he had pitched a bunch during our game with Rivendell, and the league rules said he had to rest.)
Like I said, it was totally awesome.
