81 – The Fourth Inning
By Aramis Thorn
Here is the fourth installment of the short story as promised, Enjoy
At this writing
post-season baseball is under way. My
Braves lost last night. Hope is the
eternal flame of all who love baseball.
Warm Up
Joe takes the mound and lazily stretches as he
waits for Jack. While the bat boy straps
on Jack’s shin guards Jack puts his hand back in the ice bucket. As he trots to the plate Jack notices how
relaxed the kid looks. He squats down
for the eight and realizes that he is losing concentration. What his years have taught him is that if you
think about records and chasing them you lose performance. Jack is a man of reason and also a
romantic. He is just superstitious
enough to show respect to long held baseball traditions.
He takes the eight and vows to focus on pitches and
not mention anything to his young pitcher.
The next two batters could be historical. Jack chuckles inwardly. Historical is three immaculate inning. He has never witnessed nor dared to dream
anything like it. Every pitch matters. He throws the last warm up pitch down to
second base and it makes its way around the horn, eventually returning to Joe.
Pitch 28
Stretch Franklin ambles from the on deck circle to the
plate. He looks down at Jack, “So I
could be the tie. Can’t let that
happen.”
Jack looks up and smiles, “We will see Stretch.” Once again, and not for the last time Jack
forces thoughts about records from his head mind.
Garner Patch is aware too. He brushes the plate and takes extra care in
doing it. Returning to his spot behind
Jack he calls, “Let’s go. This is the
stuff that gets in the way of baseball.
Then again what would baseball be without it?”
Jack signals to Joe for a curve ball, outside. Joe nods as if nothing is going on but
pitching. The release is perfect. The ball flies true. Stretch takes the pitch.
“Steeerike one,” spits Patch.
The crowd roars.
Joe looks perplexed but smiles wanly.
Jack allows hope but not distraction. He tosses the ball back to Joe.
The red numbers read 91 mph.
Pitch 29
Jack settles and signals. Stretch may think he cannot allow something
but he has trouble with the curve. Someone’s
day is about to be made one way or the other.
He calls for curve, same place and same speed. This time Stretch swings. This time he misses.
“Steeerike two,” Calls Patch.
Again the roar is deafening. Joe looks in to Jack for explanation. Jack points to the K’s above his left
shoulder hoping to avoid anything complicated or distracting. Joe shrugs and hands out his glove for the
ball. Jack is pleased with that
response.
Pitch 30
Jack ponders the next pitch. Stretch has waited a
curve and chased one. He will expect a
curve. He knows that Jack knows his
weakness. Jack calls for the changeup. Joe shakes it off. Jack offers the breaking ball. Joe nods. Jack realizes that Joe comprehends
the batter’s attitude and weaknesses.
Stretch verbally pokes at Jack, “Having trouble
getting the kid to listen?”
Jack rarely says anything to batters to goad
them. He cannot resist. “We’re just agreeing on the right pitch to
get you out. Do you feel lucky punk?” He
says this last part in his best Dirty Harry voice.
Garner Patch chuckles. Joe stretches, winds, and deals. The pitch breaks perfectly. Stretch reacts perfectly from Jack’s
perspective. He swings early and
high. The light between ball and bat is
a safe two inches.
Garner Patch’s call of “Steeerike three” is drowned
out by the crowd as it cheers what it already knows. Joe Zander has just tied the consecutive
strike out record for the major leagues.
Only a few comprehend that he has done it on only 27 pitches. Joe is also one third of the way to a fourth
immaculate inning.
Pitch 31
Jack ponders how grateful he is that this is a home
game. If this record is to be broken it
should be broken here on the field where he has caught pitches for twenty
years. It is also the right evening for
it. It is the first cool evening of what
has been a torpid summer. Record heat
and humidity have plagued the southern states.
The humidity lingers but the cool breeze moving from the visiting dugout
to left field is refreshing.
Paul Simmons moves into the box without a
word. No player on either team misses
what is happening here. None of them has
ever seen it. No one is still playing
who was playing when Tom Seaver struck out ten in a row in the spring of
1970. No one has ever had three
immaculate innings. Joe is one strike
out into his fourth and one batter away from the record.
Jack looks up at Simmons. The batter’s toes are barely in the box and
he is leaning in toward the plate. He
looks toward the mound but mutters self-importantly to Jack, “Either way I am
part of baseball history forever just because I am at bat.”
Morris says nothing and signals fastball, low. He leaves the heat setting up to Joe. So much of it is up to Joe. So much of baseball is about control. It is about the holding and giving of
control. It is allowing the physics to
control things in between. Baseball is
about a game that dances with the laws of the universe. It is why God is at the center of every game
whether he is invited or not. Joe is in
control of the moment. As he winds the
stadium grows silent. The four seam fastball
leaves the hand right where it should.
Jack knows it will hurt.
Simmons swings too high and too late.
“Stee…” Garner Patch is drowned out by the
cacophony that erupts from the stands.
Jack was correct.
It hurt. He needs to slow things
down and the cheers will help. As he
tosses the ball back he eyes the pitch clock.
103 mph.
Pitch 32
Simmons is set up with the fastball. Now it is time to get him off of the
plate. Jack signals curve, inside, and
slow. Joe nods his understanding. So far the kid has put the ball exactly where
Jack wants it on every pitch. This one
is no different.
The kid pauses at the top of his stretch and then
deals. The ball appears to be headed
right down the pipe. Jack has set up
center to encourage the deception. They
cash in on Simmons’ trouble hitting curve balls and the fact that the last two
he saw were hot curves. Simmons swings early.
“Steeerike two,” calls Patch but only Jack can hear
him above the din.
Jack smiles but says nothing. The pitch was perfect. He is sure Tom Seaver is about to be second
in the history books. Jack forces the thought from his head until he tosses the
ball back to Joe. Joe actually winks at
him.
The red clock reads 82 mph.
Pitch 33
The batter looks down at Jack in disbelief. He also defiantly crowds the plate
again. This is just what Jack
needs. He signals for the slider,
inside, high. Joe grins and nods. Joe winds and hurls.
This pitch and the ensuing few seconds will be
replayed over and over by all the major news networks. It will be the lead on most local news
stations. In Black River Falls, WI,
Joe’s home town, it will take up most of the time for the local news sports
segment.
The ball moves from hand to mitt in .477
seconds. Simmons thinks the pitch is
high and inside. He backs away. The ball breaks down and toward the
plate. Simmons realizes too late he has
been duped. A heartbeat of silence
follows the sound of the ball landing in Jack’s mitt.
“Steeerike three, you’re out,” calls Garner Patch.
52,206 fans agree and make their voices heard.
Jack smiles as Simmons argues the call. Simmons appeals to first and the first base
umpire, Rowland Jenner signals him out.
The applause, cheers, and whistles last a full ninety-eight
seconds. Everyone in the stadium is
standing. Joe steps two step off the
mound and politely tips his hat to the fans.
The clock records the record breaking pitch at 97
mph.
Pitch 34
As Simmons retreats to the dugout Jack signals for
the ball boy. He trots over with three
new balls for the umpire. Jack is still
holding the last pitched ball. Garner
Patch looks toward the catcher for explanation.
“We are going to be changing balls a little more
often I think. I won’t send the ball
around the horn after the strikeouts if I can give it to the ball boy. No game delay and we preserve some history.”
explains Jack.
He looks down at the kid who is the ball boy. Tim Olson, son of the team’s batting coach
looks up at the catcher waiting for instructions. “Take this ball and keep it safe for Joe,”
begins Jack. “Find me one of those sharp
black markers we use for signing stuff. Make
sure it is a new one. Bring it to me
after the next batter. Get an empty ball
bag too. Come see me after every batter
until I say different. Remember Tim, no
one else touches this ball.”
Tim nods in awe.
He knows that he has just been given a bit part in the drama of true
baseball history. He will play it to the
rafters. He stuffs the ball in his
uniform pocket and goes back to his chair by the dugout. As soon as he can get the bat boy’s attention
he asks him to cover while he carries out Jack’s instructions.
Vick Houseman waits patiently for the exchange to
complete before stepping into the box.
Respectfully he tips his cap to Joe Zander. He looks back and down to Jack, “You know it
is my job to try and break this up, right?”
Jack smiles at the third baseman. “I do.
You know it is my job not to let you, right?”
Jack signals changeup.
Joe throws the changeup.
Vick swings too early and too low.
“Steeerike one,” calls Patch.
“This is getting monotonous,” observes Vick.
“The fans don’t think so,” counters Jack.
Jack tosses back the ball pondering the number of
consecutive strikes the kid has thrown.
He is sure they are setting new records with every pitch now. Jack is also sure he needs to discipline his
thoughts. He relays his thoughts on the record
to Vick. The batter is unimpressed.
The red clock reads 77 mph.
Pitch 35
Jack ruminates over Vick’s last at bat. They worked him changeup, changeup,
fastball. Repeating this with a hitter
like Vick would be a mistake. Jack calls
for the curve, hot and outside. Joe
obliges.
The ball assures the batter that it is a narrow
hittable off speed pitch. It tails away
to the outside just ahead of Vick’s swing.
Garner Patch calls, “Steeerike two, batter.”
Jack looks up at his friend, “Still bored?”
The speed clock completes the tale: 93 mph.
Pitch 36
Housman, Patch, and Zander all expect for Jack to
call fastball. Jack knows that is the
obvious pitch here so he calls for another changeup. It is the perfect call and gives the kid a
little rest for the arm. Joe nods
knowing that Jack is right.
Vick’s third swing and miss is almost identical to
the first. The margin of light between bat
and ball is narrower than Jack would like.
A strike, however, is still a strike.
“Steeerike three; Batter’s out” calls Patch.
The stadium erupts again in rapturous approval.
On his way to the dugout Jack meets with Tim and
takes the proffered marker. He writes
the number “12” very small next to the word “Rawlings” on the ball. He then gets the record ball back from
Tim. He writes “11” in the same place on
this one. He puts both balls in the bag
that Tim acquired. He gestures to Brooks
Angelino, the club’s equipment manager.
Brooks moves over to him with his usual broad grin.
Jack hands him the bag and explains, “We are going
to save the balls for Joe. Little Tim
will bring them to you. Just keep them
in the bag and keep the bag close. Don’t
call any attention to it.”
Brooks, whose summer weathered face is more like an
old leather mitt nods his understanding and grins broader, “You always think
more like a chess player than a baseball bum.
It must be that college education.”
Ricky Boggs leads off the bottom of the fourth with
a line drive single to right. Kent
sacrifices deep to left to advance Boggs to second. McCracken drives a hard liner that is stabbed
and caught by the first baseman. Stanley
Jones fouls off seven times before he gets under one that has great height but
no distance. The second baseman reals it
in for the third out leaving Boggs stranded.
At the end of the fourth inning the score stands at 0-0.
If I examine the words honestly they truly reflect who I
wish to become as I move toward Christ and his likeness. I want God to be my whole portion and
felicity. I want to give my life completely
away to him and his purposes for that life. In this song is all the submission, protection,
and provision one needs.
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