Breakfast Monday morning was big, loud, and rowdy. Twice the cafeteria folks told us to settle down. Our entire group was happy to be back together.
Adrian walked with me to our first classes then separated to our own buildings. I had forgotten that I had my first class with Delta. She came up to me and put a sizzling lip lock on me.
"How's my Spring break stud doing." she asked. Delta is such a stand out good-looking babe, all the guys going into the room were eyeing me enviously.
After class Delta walked with me toward my next class until we met Trish. Trish gave me a very nice kiss with a bone-crunching hug. "Great to see you Chuck." Again, guys observing me getting the attention of another great looking babe, were drooling. The girls said they would try to eat supper at the training table dining hall that evening if it would be okay with my girl friends. I told them that it should be fine.
We had a scrimmage for practice. I played short stop with the second team and even got two decent hits out of four at bats. Probably should be better because the pitchers weren't up to speed yet. We needed to get ready for a home game Thursday and an away game Saturday.
Supper was fun. I was bookended by Misty and Cherry on one side and Delta and Trish on the other. Frank and Susie were across the table from us and made numerous obnoxious remarks about our spring vacation trip. Guys have a hard time not staring at the four girls I was with. One alone is a major disturbance. The four together were a riot.
After supper the usual group left for the library. Delta and Trish looked at each other and said, "you know, we're going with you guys. We need to get our grades up too. Do you mind?"
Everyone said almost at once, "the more the merrier."
After the library we went for Cokes. The jukebox was playing dreamy stuff so I danced with Misty, then Delta insisted on a dance. I turned to go to the dance floor area and saw Cherry and Trish dancing close together. I wonder about Cherry.
We all went back to the dorms. Delta and Trish lived in a dorm next to the one where Misty and Cherry lived. We said goodnight to them as they went inside at their dorm. After saying goodnight to everyone in Misty's dorm, Misty stayed with me in the parlor for a few minutes.
"Do you think we are going to be a pair?" Misty asked.
"We already are, aren't we?" I asked.
"Sort of," Misty answered. "But I was thinking that just you and I and not all the other girls you seem to have coming on to you."
"Serious huh?" I asked.
Misty looked down then up into my eyes, "I don't know. Sometimes when we're together I want us to be alone, you know, exclusive, together forever. Sometimes I love it when Cherry and I make love to you. Spring break was fun and I loved watching you play with those two girls but back here now, and with Sarah wanting to get back with you, I'm feeling jealous. Even though you and I are together, I can't help feeling you're not mine alone. Like I said Chuck, I don't know. I want you and most of the time I don't feel threatened by other girls but right now I do. Can you understand that?"
"I guess so. You've never asked me to be exclusive. I haven't asked you either as it wasn't my place to ask that. I'm probably too young to be thinking of anything permanent yet but I do enjoy being with you and I do really enjoy how we feel about each other. From now on when you feel threatened or when jealousy pops up, give my hand a couple of squeezes so I know when to give you more attention."
Misty gave me a watery-eyed loving hug and kisses, "night Chuck, I really do like you a lot." She gave me another tender kiss then, "night baby." She got up and rushed through the alcove.
Tuesday and Wednesday were about the same without any new jealousy outbreaks from Misty. I did try to pay a little more attention to her though.
Thursday was busy. The baseball team was going to travel all day Friday. That meant I had to gather assignments and to make arrangements for someone else to turn in my work for Friday or to delay it till Monday. Profs just love sports guys,,,,, not. They hate to have to make constant exceptions to their class rules. My only advantage was my good grades.
At practice I found out the Saturday game turned out to be a tournament that we were thought to only play Saturday morning and when we lost Saturday afternoon, we would come home, driving all day Sunday instead of playing in the semi-finals and finals. When I heard the coach's projections, I was disappointed in their attitude toward the players. We were not bad. We needed more practice but I know baseball and decent baseball teams. Our defense had a ways to go but at bat we were probably as good as any other team.
I told the infield coach how I felt about what I had heard. He defended his position by saying that college ball was faster and tougher than the high school baseball I was used to. I reminded him that I came from a school that constantly had major league scouts at our practices and games and that I had played two seasons of American Legion ball that is supposed to be as good as single-A pro ball.
He said, "tell you what Chuck. All three of you guys who are trying to make starter at short are about equal. I'll play each of you three innings. Show your stuff and I'll start you in the tournament. You'll get at least one at bat, maybe two. Get a hit; show the coach and me what you can do. Then we'll go stay in Wichita for the entire weekend."
He was walking away when he turned around, "now I'll have to go write notes to all your Profs that Monday will be a travel day so you guys can be excused. You're right though, we should expect to win instead of expecting to lose."
Before the game, the head coach or manager or whatever you want to call him had a few words to say about today and us getting ready for the tournament in Wichita. He told us that several starting positions were open for grabs so for us to play our best. I played the fourth, fifth and sixth inning. Defensively the fourth was a no brainer. First out was a pop fly to the third baseman. The right fielder and I almost collided getting in position to back up the play though. Then there was a pretty hot flat grounder that I scooped up and tossed to the second baseman that relayed the ball to first for a double play. The play didn't show off anyone's ability even though the ball was hit pretty hard. Since it stayed flat on the ground not hopping around, it was an easy catch.
I was second up at bat in the bottom of the fourth. The first batter walked. The third base coach held me on the first pitch. It was a ball, low and inside. I figured he would have me bunt the guy to second but he gave me a swing sign, surprise, surprise. The pitcher threw a very slow change up right down the middle. It seemed like I had to wait an eternity to swing. It's hard to hold up your swing when you are expecting an 80 to 85 mph fast ball or curve and you get one at 50 mph that wants to die in front of the plate. Because I had been holding up, I didn't get a full swing at the ball but made good contact. I pulled it over the third baseman's head sending the ball into the corner of the chain link fence. Balls don't bounce off chain link. The guy on first had been given a run sign so he made it all the way home while I was held at second standing. I went to third on a long fly to right field then scored on a single up the middle. We ended up scoring five runs that inning looking much better than our coaches were forecasting us to be.
The fifth inning was routine defensively with my only participation covering second for an attempted steal then covering second again on a slow grounder to third for a force out. Yawn.
The sixth inning was cool. Our pitcher must have been getting tired. Two long singles had runners on first and second. I was signaled to play my position deep and let the runners be. I was playing just to the right of the pitcher when he hung a curve for a good hitter. The ball came off the bat like a rocket, right for my face. My glove protected my face; I pitched the ball to the second baseman, who relayed it to first in time for a triple play. I know that play looked good even though all I was doing was defending myself.
I got back up as first at bat for the bottom of sixth. They had a new pitcher that sprayed nothing but really fast rocket fast balls. I said sprayed as they went everywhere. He threw three straight balls then it looked like he changed his position on the rubber. This one came straight down the middle. My swing was about a week late. I could have used the post office. I watched the pitcher set up exactly the same and was ready. I started my swing and actually pulled the ball again as it flew down the line going foul over the fence. I'm not a long ball hitter but that one went a mile. Full count. The pitcher went back to standing on the rubber like he had done in the beginning so I was wary that he couldn't throw a strike from that position. I needed this hit but I also didn't want to swing at a ball over my head on in the dirt. I was ready but thought that if it was close, I would try to at least foul it. The ball was outside. So far outside it almost went into our dug out. If nothing else, that was a good walk even if it didn't count as a hit. I watched the guy's feet while leading off on first and saw he was in his control stance. Three straight strikes that the batter didn't even come close to. Between batters I told the first base coach what I saw about the differences in how the pitcher would stand on the rubber. He told me to go down on a knee and to hold my ankle. While the trainer was looking at my ankle the first base coach waved the manager and third base coach over to the new batter. The manager sent in my next inning replacement to run for me and I walked back to the dug out to look for splinters.
Our batter who was usually a good hitter took a first pitch fast ball down the middle. Then you could see him get ready, the pitcher went to his control position and let fly. Home run. The big bat hit the fast ball hard and it flew out of the park. The next batter got up and saw the pitcher go into his control stance and brought one down the middle at top speed. Then he changed his stance. You could see the third base coach holding the batter. Ball. The next two pitches were the same then the pitcher changed back to his control stance. The batter was able to foul off that pitch and the next two. The pitcher changed his stance again and the third base coach gave a hold sign to the surprised batter. Ball four and a walk. The manager/head coach came to me and said, "that was damn observant of you to pick up on that guys stance. That's good baseball."
The third short stop got two at bats in the seventh and eighth inning getting two nice hits but didn't have much activity defensively. I kind of thought we were all pretty even so in my mind I could be sent back to the second team without feeling bad.
After the game the manager gave praise for having cleaned the other teams clock. He said we had beaten them offensively and defensively. He even made mention of my noticing how the rocket pitcher stood on the mound and had sense enough to tell someone. Point for me.
I was told that I would be traveling to the tournament. That made me happy as I might get in a game anyway.
At supper I made arrangements for Delta, Cherry and Misty to turn in my class work and to advise the Profs I would probably not be back till Tuesday because of travel. We all went to the library and worked hard getting papers completed. I was able to do Thursday's assignments as well as Friday's. I wish I knew what was going to be assigned for over the weekend. The only class I was concerned with was a stupid history class because the grad staff Prof. liked to assign papers to be turned in on Monday. Trish said she knew the Prof. and went up to the library office and called him. I listened to her explaining what she needed to know and why. Trish was sweet-talking the guy about how mean he was to assign so much for the weekends. She finally hung up with a smile. "Not only is there no paper for Monday, but no assignment at all. How's that for a working a guy?"
"My heroine," I said giving her hug while walking back to our group.
Friday morning I ate with the hordes, gave a hug and kisses to Misty, then Cherry, Delta and finally Trish. I was standing at the dining hall door shaking my head in wonder but smiling when Adrian came up.
"Should I ask for a kiss too?" he said while punching me on the arm. "You have so many babes hanging on you that you'll never have time for my Sis when she comes back."
I grinned at Adrian and just said, "I'll make time."
He left and I went to the dorm for my travel bag then went to the baseball offices to get on the bus.
Eleven long hours later we pulled into the campus at Wichita. The folks led us into the dining hall and fed us a late supper then herded us into a wing of a dorm with a couple dozen rooms ready for visiting teams. The next morning we had early breakfasts then dressed to warm up for the first game at ten. The infield coach came to me and asked if I would be upset if I didn't start. I told him that was a silly question as I was a freshman and would willingly ride the pine until it was my chance. He slapped me on the back and said, "stay ready, now go get some batting practice."
The first game was a yawn. We could have stayed in bed and won. The team we played only had three hits and no runs. They did excel in errors through. I think every infielder had at least one error as well as two of the outfielders. Their short stop wouldn't have made a grade school team back home.
We ate lunch then kicked back till three-thirty. This team was supposed to be good and supposedly the best in our conference. When they walked on the field assuming the home field defensive positions for the first inning they looked normal to me so that meant they were beatable.
The infield coach was sitting next to me and was describing how good these guys were. I asked him what were their weaknesses and he just looked at me. "Why?" he asked.
"If we know what they have trouble with, then we can play to their weaknesses instead of losing to them before we step up to the plate," I said with confidence as I was parroting what my high school coach always told us.
"Point taken. Watch them, see what you see and tell me," he said then walked over to stand with the manager.
The first inning we managed a walk and a hit but left both of them stranded. When we were in the field our pitcher was decent. He was consistently throwing low and on the outside of the plate. He missed some for balls but did a good enough job that he had two strikeouts and grounder to second.
Second inning our sixth hitter blooped one over first base. I saw the coach signal for the base coach to give the steal sign. As soon as the sign was given, the short stop was edging toward second. I went to my infield coach and told him they had our base signs. He told the manager who signaled the first base coach who held the runner. I watched the short stop go back to a deep position as soon as the sign had been given. Wonder how they knew all our signs. The other pitcher was on three balls and one strike. Our first base coach went to the runner and told him something then signed the third base coach something. That coach gave a swipe across the chest understanding then gave the batter a salute. I was confused.
The pitch was fat. It was a hanging curve that didn't curve. Good speed, right down middle, belly button high. Two run homer, see ya. The pitcher had lost a little confidence and walked the eighth hitter. The opposing team must have thought our ninth hitter would be a nothing but our manager liked to have a decent bat at number nine so his leadoff guy could advance him. Nine got a double. Our lead off guy was thrown out at first, which held the runners on second and third. Our number two batter waited through three straight bad balls then drove in two runs with hot single to right center. The third hitter drove one hard straight at the third baseman. Three outs but now we were up four zip.
During the seventh inning, the other team hit a bouncing single up the left center. The short stop leaped for the ball, catching it and sending it to the second baseman. The short stop came down funny on his foot twisting his ankle. You could see it twist when he landed. The trainer was out of the dugout before the ump had called the out at first for the double play. My coach said for me to grab my glove then waited for the trainer to bring the injured player in.
I reported to the ump then took my position. We were still up four zip with two out in the seventh. The batter hit a liner straight to the center fielder and we were up for the top of the eighth. The short stop had been next in the line up so I grabbed my bat and loosened up while the infield and pitcher warmed up. The third base coach told me he would hold me on first pitch then let me swing away. He told me that he was going to be flashing all kinds of signs to the first base coach but for me not to try to read them as they would all be bogus. He said he would touch his belt buckle whenever he was going to give me a real sign.
I was lucky, first pitch was a ball. Second pitch was wild, all the way to the backstop. The pitcher kicked around on the back of the mound trying to get his focus. I figured this to be probably a fast ball low down the middle. There it was right on schedule. I hit that sucker hard. But about half way to the center field fence, it died and dropped into the center fielder's glove. Darn. The next two batters did what I did and flied out. Top of the ninth saw a pitching change for us. Our new pitcher was a tall string bean that could throw heat with some control. He struck out the first two batters then the next guy singled into right. Our second baseman broke late on the ball like he had been day dreaming. The runner was acting fidgety like he was going to steal. I alerted the second base so he would break on second when the runner took off. Sure enough, the runner broke on a swinging strike but the catcher threw a perfect strike to the first base side of second. The ball sailed right past the second baseman's glove. I was backing up the play so was able to glove the ball. I hadn't taken the ball out of my glove yet and was walking over to the second baseman to give him some shit. The runner was wandering around second dusting himself off. I tagged him thinking that he had probably called time but the ump jerked his fist up yelling out. The player started cursing. Oh boy, not the thing to do in baseball. The opposing manager ran out on the field yelling that his player had time out. The third base ump came over and confirmed no time out had been requested. The player was ejected and the manager was warned. I was in the dug out by the time the manager figured out that it had been the third out.
We were winners at four zip, looking ahead to an evening game and definitely playing tomorrow. The infield coach asked me why I had done that, had tagged the runner. I told him we were taught to do that as backup to second a long time ago. I was supposed to give the second baseman shit for not catching the ball but was always supposed to tag the runner whether he was on the base or not. He just nodded his head and said, "good thinking."
We had a light supper with a promise of some good eats after the game. We were tired, as was the team we were playing. One of the things about this tournament was that they had two fields going all day. There were sixteen teams doing a modified single elimination so that means if you lost the first game, you still got to play another game. If you lost two times, you were toast. The winners on the losers' side played in the semi-finals the second day.
The evening game was pretty dull. Pretty dirty too as we only had two uniforms so after changing between game one and two, we had to wear the same uniforms for game three. The pitching was sharp, the bats were dull. We finally got to the pitcher in the sixth and before they brought in a reliever we were up two to nothing with men on second and third. Those two were stranded but it didn't matter, the rest of the game was like the first six innings, nothing happening. The entire infield game was routine.
After the game the staff took all our uniforms and said they would be clean for tomorrow. The manager praised us, saying that he was glad that we were doing so well. He cautioned us about being over confident as he said the teams coming up for us tomorrow were winners and we would need to be sharp.
As promised, we had a great supper then all of us just lounged around in our rooms and were asleep before ten.
Sunday morning was busy. The teams that had been eliminated were eating first to get on their way home while the teams still in the tournament were trying to stuff extra calories for the day. The first game was at noon so that meant we had time to jog a little, do some extensive batting practice, a little fielding then have a nice lunch finishing at least an hour before game time.
We were all expectant for the first game. This team had beaten their opponents by a ton of runs all three of their games. We had one of our better pitchers slated for this one and our best to either relieve early on this one or to play the evening game. The evening game would either be for first or third.
We were home field so we were on defense first. Our pitcher had good control of a fast ball, a decent curve or more like a slider, and a crawling, wiggling change up. You would almost think it was a knuckler but he had control.
Nothing came off their bats except fouls and one hit straight up that the pitcher caught. We didn't do much better until the fourth inning. Their hitter connected with one that went over my head. The left fielder charged the ball, scooped it and threw to second because the runner was trying to stretch the hit to a double. I had covered second and easily caught the throw and tagged the sliding foot. The other foot complete with metal spikes connected with my head.
Night, night.
The runner was ejected from the game for intentionally kicking me in the head with his metal cleats. I came to in the locker room getting bandaged after being stitched up on the cheek and the forehead. I sure know how to get hurt, always in the head.
When I was clear headed I went back to the dug out to find we were one run up on them going into the top of the ninth. The pitching coach sent our tall skinny guy out to do the ninth. This guy was so skinny when he turned sideways before pitching the only thing you can see is his head, hat and glove.
We won but the opposing manager protested the game as he said his runner should not have been ejected. The umpire asked if he, the opposing manager, thought it was okay to eject the other two players that had taken swings at our players when they were tagged out. It was an amusing shouting match.
We were in the finals. That is my team was going to play but I was hunting splinters. Damn. I hate to have to watch. The original short stop said he should be able to play if he was taped up enough. All I could do was check my messy face in the mirror and cringe. I wasn't dizzy or disoriented but the trainer said that I would not dress for the final game.
We lost. Not bad, but we lost. Just not enough bat. We did take second for the tournament though. That's the tournament that the coaches said we were going to play two and out. We had a nice dinner Sunday then went to bed.
When I woke up Monday morning my face was sore and puffy. When I looked at the mirror, I almost puked. The whole side of my face was purple. The coaches gave me an ice pack and told me to just wait for the healing. I slept for most of the long ride home. We got in and were fed a special late meal then we all went to bed. I was to report to the trainer after breakfast so the doc could look at me.
Tuesday morning breakfast was not pretty. I was ugly enough that it was hard to look at me and still be hungry. I built a couple of egg and bacon sandwiches on toast and told everyone I'd see them at lunch or supper.
The doc looked at me then took me to see another doctor who did a few things to the stitches then gave me a bunch of salve to spread over the cuts. Our doc took a bunch of pictures of my face and said he was going to petition the league to sanction the team that played the way they did. The coaches had lunch at their offices for me, as I didn't get back to school till almost two. I was not to go to classes Wednesday and after being checked I could probably go Thursday or Friday. I was excluded from practice till cleared by the doctors. Student trainers were given my class schedule and told to get my work for Tuesday and Wednesday so I would have something to occupy my time while healing.
At supper Tuesday people were not as put off by my face. Misty and Cherry were solicitous but didn't know how to take some guy with a face that messed up. The salve seemed to be taking the purple and red out of my face.
The group went off to the library while I retreated to my room. Adrian stopped by to tell me how ugly I was and to tell me to write a note to his sis.
I actually wrote a note to Sarah telling her about the tournament and that, once again, I was banged up.
By Wednesday evening my face was looking pretty good with only bandages on my forehead and lower cheek near my jaw. After supper I went to see the trainers and was taken to a doctor at the local hospital who checked over all the cuts then spent far too much time making sure I didn't have a concussion. I just joked with the guy that I must have a glass jaw. I was cleared for school and sports.
Thursday morning I joined everyone for breakfast then went to classes. All the Profs had to say something about how dangerous all sports were and how it was too bad that I would probably be disfigured. They were all happy I had stayed current on their classes. The way I figured, I had an easy A going into the end of the semester and should even score some graded averages.
Thursday evening after the student union Cokes, Misty and I were sitting in the parlor. She surprised me by telling me she had plans for Friday night. She told me that she thought Cherry did too. Wow, from asking for an exclusive relationship to spreading out in less than a week. Oh well, girls are strange. I got a hug, no kiss goodnight, and started out the door.