Chapter Sixteen
Cody Patterson strodeto the mound for the first inning. The first two guys went down on three pitches each, barely swinging at the ball. Neither made contact. Cody looked confident and even arrogant. Hernandez strode to the plate, his arrogance a match for the kid’s.
Jason jogged over to the mound with the catcher. Cody shot a glance at Jason. “Watch how it’s done, old man.”
Jason hid a smile and waited.
Three pitches later, they watched the pitch sail over the left field fence and Hernandez in his slow home run trot around the bases.
Cody kicked the mound in frustration. “Next at-bat.”
Jason smothered a grin at the frustration. The younger guy was almost ready for his lesson.
The next inning came fast as Cody struck out the next hitter. Jason strode the on-deck circle and swung the bat overhead, stretching his arms. He mentally ran through the changes to his swing, and took a few practice swings trying to get the feel back. He glanced out at the mound and El Presidente, Troy McCarthy, grinned, much like an evil mastermind. Next victim.
Not this guy.
He strode to the mound and dug in. First pitch brushed him back, a little too close to his head for comfort. He glared out at the mound and got a littlebring-itlook from the pitcher.
Next pitch was clearly a mistake and Jason hit it on the sweet spot, right over the short porch in right field.
Home run.
He broke out into a big grin and jogged around the bases like he was floating on air. He glanced into the crowd, half-hoping to see Stacia there. Then he looked directly into the camera next to the dugout and tipped his cap. Maybe she’d get his message. The home crowd, only moments before taunting him with chants, were silenced in disbelief. He couldn’t wait to see what the commentators said about the old man onSports Centerthat evening.
He jogged into the dugout accepting high fives from the other guys until he came face to face with Cody. “Lucky shot.”
“Good luck, then.” Big grin. Nothing was going to bring him down. Nothing and no one.
And it was on. Cody pitched well, handling the line-up and listening to his catcher for once, while Jason saved him from two errors. Jason also had two more hits, while Cody couldn’t seem to get Hernandez out.
Bottom of the ninth, the Knights were up by one but the bases were loaded and Hernandez was striding to the plate. Cody was staring out at him and his body language had him beat. Jason and the catcher jogged over, while the pitching coach also headed to the mound.
“Ramirez is almost ready. Stall for some time,” the coach advised.
“I want this guy.” Cody was stubborn, implacable, but the coach was shaking his head. “Trust me. I can handle him.”
“You haven’t been able to handle him all night, kid. Don’t worry. There are few pitchers who can.”
Cody looked at Jason, a hint of pleading in his eyes. Jason stepped up. “He still has the heat.”
“The heat is what this guy wants. You need something else,” The catcher said, glancing over his shoulder.
“Coach, leave me in. I can get this guy.”
“Try the cutter. Don’t kid me. You’ve been playing around with it for a while, even tested it on a couple of these guys. Throw some heat, outside, then come inside with the off-speed and cutter. You might catch him off guard, slow his bat down.”
The catcher thought for a moment. “Ramirez is exhausted, could use the break. Friar is right. Could work. This guy has seen a steady diet of the fast stuff. You ready for a hard grounder?”
Jason bared his teeth. “Bring it.”
The umpire walked up to them. “Break it up. Let’s get this over with.”
The coach nodded and jogged off the mound, doubt still in his face. Jason gestured for the ball and the catcher handed it to him. He slammed it in Cody’s glove. “Do exactly what you’re told. And make it nasty.”
Cody glared at him, clearly not welcoming the instruction.
“Look, don’t be stupid, Patterson. Do you want to win or not?”