SIDE ARM A Fictional Player Story

[vrobx1]

We were in Winter Haven for our next three games. A 7 hour round trip. It would be nice and peaceful without the fan girls there.

I still didn't know that one girl's name.

And didn't want to.

I was scheduled to pitch the last game of the series. I was hoping I would have a better road outing this time.

The Red Sox were one of the top teams in Florida with a 40-31 record.

Reno teammate Vince Horsman got the start in the opener.

Vince pitched great but their pitcher was just a little bit better and we lost 1-0.

Mack Jenkins had also come over from Reno and he would make his first start in Florida the next night.

Art Calvert had been struggling mightily since coming to Florida but he hit a 2-run homer in the top of the first.

Jenkins did a great job, allowing just one earned run in eight innings but an unearned run sent the game into extra innings tied 2-2.

In the most bizarre thing ever, we got a run in the top of the 13th inning on a balk and won 3-2.

And then it was my turn to pitch.

A road game against a very good team. A much better offense than the one that had pounded me Fort Myers.

They pounded me for two runs on three hits in the first inning and it could have been worse had Rodney McCray not made a great play in left field to rob a hitter of extra bases for the final out.

I settled down after that. The Red Sox got a one out triple in the fourth but a strike out and pop up stranded the runner at third.

Meanwhile, the dugout was like an iceberg. John Westmoreland was the starting catcher tonight and the rift between Sandy and our manager grew even wider.

Eric Tutt booted a ball in the fifth and that led to an unearned run and we trailed 3-0.

Offensively, we were inept. Double plays. Runners stranded in scoring position. Uninspired at bats.

Tutt made up for his error with a solo home run in the seventh.

In the bottom of the seventh, Westmoreland threw out a base stealer when they had runners on the corners with one out and we got out of another jam.

Then in the top of the eighth, we had back-to-back plays where our runner was thrown out at home trying to score from second on a base hit.

You have got to be kidding me!

The Red Sox added another unearned run in the bottom of the eighth.

We lost 4-1.

We had 12 hits in the game.

And scored one run!

I went the full eight innings, and gave up four runs but only two of them earned. The two they scored in the first.

I had allowed yen hits and a walk while striking out three.

I was now 2-2 with a 3.49 ERA.

I wasn't happy with my performance but at least this wasn't Reno bad.

[vrobx1]

After a day of practice, we headed back to the apartments for some peace and quiet.

That girl was there again. Trying to talk to me again.

I finally found out that her name was Cheryl.

I looked for a way out.

"Hey, Chris! Don't you pitch tomorrow night?"

Chris Jones was cooking some burgers on the outdoor grill and looked over.

His face spoke volumes. 'Don't do this to me.'

I cracked a grin. "You really should come see Chris pitch tomorrow night, Cheryl. He is red hot and can really throw the ball."

"Oh?"

Cheryl turned to watch Chris cook. "And he can grill up a burger, too!" I added, helpfully.

A little while later, Chris began serving some of the guys burgers. When he came to me, he snarled. "You can cook your own damn burger, James!"

The next game was not a good one for Chris or the Miami Marlins. Everything fell apart in the sixth inning and St Petersburg rolled to an 8-1 win.

The next night, the Cardinals got a 2-run homer in the top of the first and carried that to a 4-2 victory.

We had lost three straight and four of our last five.

The next day, we went into the bottom of the ninth down 4-3 but Sandy tied the game with an RBI single to send it to extra innings.

The Cardinals got four hits in the top of the thirteenth but were greedy on the base paths and got nothing to show for it.

But in the fifteenth, St Petersburg exploded for seven runs!

They won 11-5 to complete the sweep.

In our ballpark.

And just like that, we were .500.

38-38.

[vrobx1]

Then we were off to Fort Lauderdale to face the Yankees. The Yankees were in first in our division, 6.5 games ahead of us.

I had the opener. A road game.

So far, in Florida, I was 0-2 with a 6.75 ERA on the road.

I would be facing the second best offense in the Florida State League.

It was a warm 85 degree day and the stands were filled with half dressed young women and some older men. Was the comical observation for sure.

Ugh. And Cheryl was in the bleachers as well. Lovely.

It is less than a half hour drive from Miami to Fort Lauderdale. In fact, the drive is so short that I would be going back to Miami after the game.

The first inning went by quick. Seven pitches. Three outs.

John Westmoreland was my catcher again.

The lead off batter in the bottom of the second walked after an eighth pitch battle. He didn't bite on a fastball inside. A strikeout and groundout followed but then I lost an eleven pitch battle and gave up another walk. The next popped out so the walks didn't hurt.

But I threw 26 pitches that innning.

And I was going to have my work cut out for me to match their pitcher. We went three straight innnings without getting anyone on base.

The Yankees went down in order in the third as I only needed eleven pitches to take care of business.

They got a scratch hit to lead off the fourth but Westmoreland threw him out on an attempted steal of second.

Then in the fifth, the Yankees Kevin Trudeau struck out the side and was still pitching a perfect game.

In the bottom of the sixth, the Yankees second hit of the game was just like their first. Eliminated by Westmoreland on an attempted steal of second.

I was pitching the game of my life!

And their pitcher was even better.

We still had yet to get anyone on base.

It was nothing to nothing after six innnings.

Trudeau was perfect after seven.

I was hanging in there with him.

Still zero to zero.

Then, with two out in the top of the eighth, everything changed. Westmoreland took the very first pitch, a fastball in the upper middle of the strike zone, 345 feet and the perfect game was not just gone but we were ahead 1-0.

Now the pressure was on me to hold the lead.

The Yankees got a two out single in the bottom of the eighth but a popout sent us to the ninth still up 1-0.

They were going to let me finish the game.

I needed just three more outs for my best win ever.

The Yankees, though, had their three four five hitters coming up.

A lead off single of the infield hit variety. Just their fourth hit of the game. But now the tying run was on base.

Then a seven pitch walk to the next batter.

The next hittee grounded to second but beat out the double play.

Runners at the corners. One out.

I was at 129 pitches.

Another ground ball.

Again only one out.

And the score was tied.

The ninth innning ended with Westmoreland throwing out another runner trying to steal second.

I would not go back out for the tenth innning.

John Githens would pitch the tenth and give up the winning run on a wild pitch.

We dressed slowly and quietly.

And then filed out into the night.

I felt a hand on my arm.

Cheryl.

"I'm sorry," she said simply.

I think she actually meant it too.

I gave her a small smile and ruffled her hair.

"Thanks."

And headed home.

Sent from my K88 using Tapatalk

[Izz]

Gutting!

[vrobx1]

I had pitched nine innings, allowed one run on four hits, walked four and struck out three. And got a no-decision.

My totals in Florida now looked like this:

2-2, 2.89 ERA, 37.1 IP, 10 BB, 17 K.

I did not go to Fort Lauderdale the next night. I stayed back in Miami and iced my arm.

I had given up just three earned runs in my last two starts and had an 0-1 record to show for it.

I had gotten a grand total of one run for support in each contest.

That just wasn't going to cut it!

Our bats had gone ice cold in this five game losing streak.

They would wake up in the second game of the series in Fort Lauderdale. We got three runs in the first inning!

Imagine that.

The five game losing streak ended with a 9-4 win. Darrin Duffy put the game away with a three-run pinch hit homer in the eighth.

David James gets nine runs of support and I can barely get one.

Baseball be that way sometimes.

The next night, Eric Tutt went 2 for 3 with a home run, an RBI, scored three times and drew a walk and the Marlins crushed the Yankees 10-2.

So, after getting just one hit the night I pitched, the offense scored 19 combined runs the next two night in Fort Lauderdale.

My batters hate me.

That's what it is.

We were then at home for three against the Clearwater Phillies. The Phillies were a tough offense to prepare for. They were one of the worst batting teams in the league except for one thing.

They led the league in home runs.

I was slated to pitch the series finale.

The Phillies entered the series with a record of 43-37 while we were 40-39.

In the opener, Vince Horsman pitched eight shutout innings and then John Githens and Marlon Hubbard damn near combined to give it away.

A 4-0 lead turned into a 4-3 score and the bases were loaded when the final out of the game was made.

Fortunately, it was enough to give Vince his first win in Miami.

So, of course, Cheryl was there again so I conveniently introduced her to the star of the show. Vince Horsman.

Vince was the perfect dumb jock for Cheryl to meet and soon I slipped away as she fawned over his throwing arm.

Whatever you do, Padres, don't go shipping him off to the South Atlantic!

The next night we dominated the Phillies again with a pretty easy 7-1 win. We out hit them 16-4. They also committed three errors.

Mack Jenkins pitched 8.1 innings, allowing the lone run on four hits, walking four and striking out seven.

He was named the top performer of the day in the Florida State League.

As he was coming off the mound in the ninth, Husam al Din, our Mohamed Ali manager, gave him a big handshake and pat on the back.

At least that's what Sandy told me after the game.

With seething venom in his voice.

A four game winning streak and now a catcher and pitcher possibly at odds over managerial favoritism.

Oh boy....

[vrobx1]

Reno was a culture of losing.

You stayed there long enough and the desire to win was slowly sapped out of you.

In Miami, we had a much different issue.

We had a power struggle going on.

Between our manager and Sandy Alomar.

An issue made worse by the fact that so many players, myself included, saw Sandy as a team leader.

And to increase the tension, some of the pitchers were crediting Sandy for the fact that we had the best starters ERA in the Florida League.

It was my turn to pitch.

We had won four in a row since my last start. We were still 5.5 behind the Yankees.

And, once again, Westomreland, and not Sandy, would be my catcher.

Coach Green confirmed it was because of our manager.

He even went so far as to say that our manager had contacted the parent office and requested a better team leader than Sandy be sent to Miami.

I had done real well with John behind the plate so I didn't argue but on the inside I was really having a hard time believing in Muhammed Ali Whatshisname.

If he couldn't hold this team together, then that was on him.

It sure looked like he was trying to pass the buck to Sandy.

The first inning was a little rough. They got a run on three hits and it might have been worse but Westmoreland threw out two attempts at stealing second base.

Darrin Duffy hit a three run homer in the bottom of the first and we were up 3-1.

The Phillies stranded a runner at third in the top of the second.

I was struggling with control tonight. Getting behind in the count. Forcing me to throw balls they could hit.

I picked the runner of first in the top of the third after a one out single.

Despite my shakiness, we were still up 3-1.

I got behind 3-1 twice in the fourth and gave up a hit and a walk but, again, the Phillies failed to push the runners across, stranding them on the corners.

I was already up to 66 pitches.

At this pace, I would probably be pulled by the eighth inning.

I really needed a good inning and I got a three up three down fifth. But it took eleven pitches to get the final hitter out as he fouled off five of them.

The sixth went even better.

But I was at 92 pitches.

And, after the first, our offense had completely disappeared.

That changed in the bottom of the sixth when Westmoreland got an RBI single to make it 4-1.

I'd had two straight innings where I had set them down in order.

Time for the seventh inning.

A leadoff double.

Sacrifice bunt.

A flyball. Caught. Tagging up. Throw home.

He's got him!

CRASH!

And the ball came loose!

And the run would count.

It was now 4-2.

And I really wanted to drill someone in the kidney for that.

But instead I got the next batter to groundout to retire the side.

I stormed into the dugout.

"I want someone to make sure we pour on some runs this inning!"

Manuel DelRosario led off with a double but no one else could get the ball out of the infield and he was stranded at third.

The Phillies got a scratch hit in the top of the eighth but he never got past first.

I was given the word. John Githens would pitch the ninth.

He gave up a leadoff walk and then shut them down.

We won 4-2.

The winning streak was at five games.

I was satisfied with the win.

As we left the ballpark, Cheryl was waiting outside.

Oh no....

She wrapped me in a hug around my neck.

"Great job."

And then planted a kiss on my lips.

I do not need this!

I do not need this at all!

[vrobx1]

We were back home facing the Lakeland Tigers. The Tigers had one of the worst records in Florida at 32-51.

Our Saturday game was rained out, leaving us with a Sunday double header. I spent the day icing my arm and listening to Westmoreland rib me mercilessly about Cheryl.

"What is with that girl? I swear, she jumps from ballplayer to ballplayer like a rabbit hopping through a field."

"Don't knock it til you try it, James."

"Don't tell me you.....Oh for crying out loud!"

Westmoreland was one of our oldest players at 26. While he didn't have the passion of Sandy Alomar, he did have a better knowledge of the game.

Don't anyone tell Sandy I said that.

It was 85 degrees and cloudy when we took the field at one in the afternoon for the first game of the Sunday double header.

The makeup game as it were.

I snuck into the bullpen wearing sunglasses and a fake Fu Manchu mustache. And not in my uniform.

A couple of the relievers snickered and one pointed to the bleachers.

There was Cheryl. In a flowery bikini top and cutoff shorts.

It should be noted that the girl was a looker. She knew what she had and picked out bikini tops to enhance it.

And a lot of the guys on the team would give it a go.

A lot of them already had.

If they weren't telling tall tales.

So why had she set her sights on me?

"Forbidden fruit," Githens told me. "She sees you as a challenge. A mystery she can't quite solve."

There was no real mystery.

There was a girl in Texas who I wasn't going to ever let down.

The win streak came to an end in the opener. The Tigers were victorious 2-1 as we stranded the tying run at third to end the game.

Then the rain came down again and the second game of the double header was moved to Monday.

Once again, it was cloudy and 80 degrees as we played the afternoon game.

The offense came alive for Vince and put a crooked number up in the first inning.

It never was a contest after that. We totaled 13 hits and won 8-3.

Vince got the complete game victory, allowing the three runs on seven hits and two walks while striking out seven.

That night, we finally got the second game of the double header in.

David James was not very good and the Tigers put four runs up in the second inning.

Every effort to come back was squashed by our own decision making as we had four guys caught stealing in the game.

Sandy laid the blame on that squarely on our manager.

Lakeland won the second game 5-2.

I wondered how long Sandy would remain in Miami. I had a feeling he would be headed to the South Atlantic League before the season was over.

[vrobx1]

We had the day off before playing in West Palm Beach.

I made calls back home and arrangements were made for everyone, Beth included, to come to Florida the next weekend.

Barring an unforeseen event, I would be pitching at home again on the 28th against Tampa.

The day was rather uneventful as Cheryl and her friends did not come by to hang with us today.

We boarded the bus later that night and made the trip to West Palm Beach to face the Expos.

We were 7.5 behind the Yankees for the division and 3.5 behind the Red Sox for the Wild Card.

July was closing in on us and we needed to start looking for our playoff push real soon.

[vrobx1]

Two in the afternoon.

Eighty degrees.

And rain in the forecast.

Seemed fitting there was a storm inbound with Sandy behind the plate today.

My second pitch of the game and I nailed their left fielder on the hip.

I shook my head and kicked the mound and went to work.

The next batter got ahead 2-0 and then leaned into a pitch. It was a low slider and you could see him move his leg forwards and into it.

Two batters.

Two hit batters.

Now I was a bit perturbed. Screw these gutless you know whats! I struck out two of the next three hitters. The other one grounded out and those two base runners were stranded.

Sandy was hot in the dugout.

"That's chicken(bleep)! We were going to crush them! They want to play that kind of baseball? Don't you guys let a grounder get through! They better not get any kind of cheap hit today!"

Things got real intense in the top of the second when Sandy got hit by a pitch.

It was a deliberate pitch. Aimed at his knees.

Sandy glared at the pitcher but kept his composure and yelled at the dugout. "You guys better make them pay with about ninety runs!"

We didn't get ninety in the second inning but we did get three.

In the third, Jack Peel added to our lead with an RBI double.

We built a 6-0 lead when the Expos got a leadoff single in the fifth for their first hit of the game.

I might make mention that I did hit another batter in the fourth.

A little message to them for hitting Sandy. Sandy had wanted me to hit the first hitter in the third but out manager said no.

So I waited until the fourth.

Whatever the issues between the manager and Sandy, this one night we were all brought together in a united effort to humiliate the West Palm Beach Expos.

When the Expos went down in order in the seventh, you could hear our infielders yelling choice words at their hitters as they trotted back to the dugout.

There was going to be some bad blood between these two teams for a little while after today.

So, our designated hitter, Art Calvert, would get nicked in the eighth inning.

After the eighth inning, coming off the field I looked straight at our manager.

"Don't you dare pull me!"

He actually smiled.

Through eight innings, I had given up two hits and walked one.

The shutout bid ended with two out in the ninth when I walked a guy on four pitches with the bases loaded. What was more aggravating was that they had gotten their leadoff man on in the ninth on a throwing error by our short stop.

I struck out the next guy and we won it 7-1.

A complete game. No earned runs! Three hits. Three walks. Four strikeouts. And three hit batters.

The number two performance of the day in Florida!

And some talk around the league that I was a headhunter.

Even though I hadn't hit a batter all season until today.

[vrobx1]

Jack Peel had gone 3 for 4 with a double, three RBI, scored a run and walked once to get the number three performance of the day in our series opening beating of West Palm Beach.

Jack could be a real sparkplug.

Only one guy, ours, was hit by a pitch in the second game of the series. The Marlins overcame a 5-2 deficit to win 7-5.

A game I would not see.

I was being driven to the airport.

I was moving again.

This time to Charleston to join the Rainbows.

[vrobx1]

What chaos would ensue.

I was not alone. Greg Sparks and Rodney McCray were sent with me to the Rainbows.

At least, this time, I had a few days before my first start for the Rainbows.

I needed them too.

I had to get settled into a new home.

I had to make phone calls to change my family's plans to see me in Florida.

It appeared I would make my first start on the road in Greensboro.

All of them, particularly Mom and Beth, were adamant that no matter what, they would be coming up to see me.

As it stood, the Rainbows were in Macon taking on the Pirates.

The Rainbows, at 31-53, had the worst record in the South Atlantic League.

Reno all over again.

Wonderful.

I wouldn't be flying into Macon. I would meet the team in Greensboro for my first start.

For the record, my final stat line in Miami looked like this:

7 starts. 4-2 record. 54.1 innings pitched. 2.32 ERA. 44 hits, 14 earned runs. 14 walks. 24 strikeouts.

Meanwhile, down in Macon, Chris Hammond struck out ten but the Rainbows blew a 5-2 eighth inning lead and lost 6-5 in ten innings.

The next night, Michael McClain pitched eight innings, allowing two runs (neither of them earned) on four hits, four walks and five strikeouts as the Rainbows won 4-2.

The final game of the series in Macon went extra innings with Macon getting a walkoff three-run homer in the eleventh to win 5-2.

[vrobx1]

Meanwhile, I had gotten settled into Charleston, met my family and Beth, gone up to Greensboro and then met my new team.

"James? Your James. You must be James. She's too pretty to be James."

61 year old Les Moss. My new pitching coach. He grabbed my right arm with both hands. I didn't know if he wanted to eat it or make love to it.

"This arm. I've heard about this arm. I've heard that, when under control, this arm will be able to dominate the best hitters in the Big Leagues. This is the arm. Wow."

Yeah, that was weird.

The team got settled into Greensboro for the three games and I met my new teammates again.

Just hours before pitching for them.

Again.

My catcher was 26 year old Jason Porter. We shook hands and began to talk and I saw right away that he had a great knowledge of the game.

I leanred that my opponents, the Greensboro Hornets. were not one of the better hitting teams in the league. Pitching and defense is what had gotten them to a 47-40 record.

With my family and Beth in the stands, I certainly hoped they wouldn't correct their offensive woes at my expense.

I went through the first inning in just five pitches, only throwing one fastball. Mostly I went with sliders and they were impatient and swinging early.

It was a subdued dugout with the Rainbows. The bad record could do that but it was also peaceful as opposed to the tension in the Miami dugout.

Porter called a lot of fastballs in the second inning and the Hornets were able to get a run on two hits and we were down 1-0.

Their pitcher was on fire. He had five strikouts through three innings.

Their hitters were more patient, not swinging at the first pitch and I was falling behind in the count but wasn't giving up much.

Through three, I had allowed one run on three hits and struck out one.

And we were down 1-0.

Watching in the fourth, it looked like the Hornets might be getting some home cooking from the umpire. He was calling strikes in locations he was not giving to me.

We stranded runners at the corners in the fourth. I answered with a pair of strikeouts in the bottom of the fourth.

I was in a pitching duel with a guy who had an ERA over 5. And he was winning!

I walked the first two hitters in the fifth and both of them would cross the plate and we were down 3-0.

The Hornets made two errors in the sixth inning to get us our first run. But, before the inning was over, their pitcher had his tenth strikeout.

I set them down in order in the bottom of the sixth so we still trailed 3-1.

Uncharacteristically, the Hornets committed their third error of the game in the seventh and then Steven Johnson hit a 2-run homer to tie the game.

And the game stayed tied until one out in the bottom of the ninth.

Up 0-2, Porter called for a changeup.

It was too much in the meat of the plate.

And then it was gone.

I had just given up a walkoff home run in my debut with my new team.

In front of my family and my girlfriend.

Somebody please end my misery.

[Izz]

Dude!

[vrobx1]

The next morning I went to breakfast with my family and Beth. Beth was unusually picky with her food selections and only ordered high proteins with minimal fat and nothing sugary.

It was, she said, part of the diet and exercise training her college coaches had put her on.

The results I would be seeing a couple hours later.

I had put Beth and my family up in a nicer hotel than I was staying at. Using some of the interest my $600,000 had drawn at the credit union.

The hotel had a large hot tub that I went and took a soak in.

Beth came out with her body covered in a t-shirt.

"I've been on this training and diet plan almost since graduation," she said.

Then she pulled off the t-shirt.

The body that was covered by a red bikini was fit. Muscular even. Not like some over-muscled female bodybuilder but certainly not some petite girl build either.

You could see the lines of her abs. Her calf muscles made their presence as well.

Then there was her butt.

I didn't even know a butt could have muscles.

My word!

She could have posed for a fitness calendar with that body!

She slid into the hot tub and cuddled beside me.

A kiss.

Then things started getting very nice.

Until...

"No."

She pushed my hand away. I started getting closer.

"I said NO!"

Sigh.

We might as well have been in a frozen lake in January. Conditions in the hot tub got that cold that fast.

"Sorry," I said and leaned back. She slid beside me.

"I'm not ready."

"Yeah," I mumbled.

Wondering who Cheryl was with down in Miami.

And not feeling the least bit guilty about it!

[vrobx1]

That night just made my mood worse.

Paul McClellan shut the Hornets out on a three hitter. Including striking out ten!

And the offense pitched in with thirteen hits as we won 5-0.

Naturally.

McClellan was named the night's best performer in the South Atlantic League.

To make matters worse, Chris Hammond dominated the Hornets the next night as well. He pitched a complete game, did not give up an earned run, allowed six hits, walked two and struck out three. Charleston batters tallied thirteen hits in an 8-1 win.

How is this happening?

[vrobx1]

The next day, my family and Beth headed back to Texas while the team went back to Charleston.

Beth and I never talked about....it...again.

But it still hung in the air over us.

Moms always know, somehow.

"Is everything alright?" she asked me.

"Yeah, everything is okay. Just hated that ya'll came all the way out here to see me lose."

Which was true.

But not the whole truth.

I gave everyone, but Dad, a kiss goodbye.

Beth held me hand an extra second long.

Her eyes said the whole story.

She was afraid.

That we were over.

As I turned to leave, something in my head told me....

If you are so smart, how are you letting the best girl in your life just drift away?

I didn't look back.

I had a team to pitch for.

[vrobx1]

We were at home for three against the Florence Blue Jays. I was slated to start the series finale.

The opener was a pitching battle until the Rainbows scored a pair in the eighth and we won 3-1.

Grady Hall, our staff ace, pitched eight innings, allowing just one unearned run on four hits and two walks while striking out five.

In other words, in the twenty seven innings since I gave up that home run, our pitching staff has not allowed a single earned run.

I should be happy for my teammates but good grief this was making me look like the weak link on the mound.

[vrobx1]

I took the mound a night earlier than I had thought I would. The day off after we had finished the series in Greensboro ended up bumping my start up a day.

The Blue Jays would have a couple of the toughest hitters I would face yet with catcher Todd Zeile and center fielder Glenallen Hill.

Coach Les (he hated being called Coach Moss) had a sit down with me before the game.

"It's good you listen to your catcher but you need to trust your arm," he said. "If your arm tells you to throw a different pitch, you need the courage to shake your catcher off. Okay? Your arm is an extension of you and, as long as you don't lie to yourself, it's not going to lie to you."

He was basically telling me I should have shook off the changeup from the last game.

I think.....

Why is there always rain in the forecast when I pitch now?

Plus, as I have mentioned, our pitching staff had not given up an earned run in twenty seven straight innings.

No pressure...

That didn't take long to end.

Zeile hit a two out triple and Hill brought him home with a single in the top of the first.

In the second inning, I had a 1-2 count on the second hitter of the inning and took Coach Les' advice and shook off a changeup. Porter then out down the one finger signal for the fastball. It sailed pretty high but it was called strike three.

I might have gotten away with one there.

Other than Zeile and Hill, I had taken care of the Blue JAys lineup with three strikeouts in two innings.

Then the Blue Jays tacked on four runs in the third with Hill getting a two run homer.

Remember what I had said about Reno all over again?

I was getting pounded like it was Reno all over again.

Of course, the next inning, the bases were loaded without the Blue Jays getting a hit and Hill was up again.

An infield single.

Another run scored.

At least that one was unearned, right?

In the bottom of the fourth, we loaded the bases with nobody out. And didn't score.

And I wasn't surprised at all.

It was going to be one of those games.

They put three more on me in the sixth inning, with Zeile hitting a two run homer.

Everyone, including me, at that point had to be asking why was I still on the mound.

Meanwhile, in the bottom of the sixth, the Florence pitcher recorded his tenth strikeout of the game.

A guy by the name of Mark Gardner. A hot shot prospect likw myself.

Except for one big difference.

He was actually pitching like it.

The thirty seven hundred fans in the stands were not happy to see me return to the mound in the seventh inning.

I got the three up three down with two strikeouts and then got a mock standing ovation as I walked off the mound.

A couple of the guys on the team were offended by the fan reaction.

"I pitched like trash," I said as Porter wanted me to go tip my hat to the sarcastic crowd. "I deserve this treatment. I have to be better to get them a real reason to cheer."

The seventh inning, mercifully, would be my last.

Seven innings. Nine runs. Eight earned. Eleven hits. Two walks. Six strikeouts.

Meanwhile, Gardner tied a Florence team record for strikeouts in a game with twelve!

Florence won 9-4.

I had no desire to watch my performance on film.

I did want to watch Gardner's.

See what I could learn from what he had done.

[vrobx1]

0-2.

7.04 ERA.

Again, I wondered if I had gotten trapped in a vortex and was actually back in Reno.

The next night, the Blue Jays, with the number one offense in the South Atlantic League, crushed us 14-5. Florence out hit us 15-6 and put the game away with a six run ninth.

Paul McLellan didn't fair much better than I had the night before.

The team would then head to Gastonia for three against the Tigers before having a day off. I stayed back in Charleston and iced my arm and visited the city.

Another place where the big hot shot pitching prospect was irrelevant to the locals. Made it easier to go shopping, see a movie, grab a sandwich at the deli and not be bothered.

I turned on the local sports station to catch the scores and most of the talk was about the upcoming college football season. Clemson Tigers. South Carolina Gamecocks.

Even the local sports news barely reported on the Rainbows other than to give out the score of the game.

Chris Hammond was once again very good. But, he didn't make it out of the sixth inning because of hamstring soreness and he got no run support at all.

Gastonia took the opener 2-0.

The next night, the game went back and forth with Gastonia scoring in the bottom of the twelfth to win 7-6.

The sweep was completed the next night. The Tigers scored four in the seventh to break open a close game and won 5-1. Tigers pitcher Julio Machado was named SALL Player of the Day.

Our record fell to 35-61.

We would have a day off and then travel to Asheville to face the Tourists.

I was slated to pitch the opener. But, with the day off, as we have learned, that could change things.

[vrobx1]

Bobby,

I am writing this on the plane. I don't know when you will get this but I have to write this.

I am sorry things went bad when we saw each other. I have missed you so much and wanted to be there for you. I was heartbroken for you when that home run was hit.

But I could not let pity be the reason we took that step in our relationship. I would not have been what we needed in the end. I don't know if you understand what I am saying.

It just wasn't the right time.

It hurts to know that this is putting such a distance between us. I really thought you were the guy who would not want me for just sex. We shared so much together before that became an issue.

That's not the guy I have fallen in love with.

I need you to tell me my Bobby is still there. The one who cares about my dreams. The one who came to see me in the volleyball playoffs. The one who encouraged me to go for the scholarship.

Not the one who just wanted me for sex.

I am going to wait for that Bobby to write me back. To call me. To tell me I matter to him still.

I will irrationally check the mailbox every day for that letter.

Because I still love that Bobby madly.

Please tell him to write me back.

Love,
Beth

Uff!

Fine. I'll write back.

Later.

I have to get to Asheville.