“Nice play!” Austin yelled as he and Blake tapped gloves.
“He got lucky,” grumbled Kyle, just loudly enough for Blake to hear.
Coach grabbed another ball, ready to hit it to the infield again. Crack!
This time the ball bounced off the pitcher’s mound. Austin misjudged it, and the ball flew by, but Blake was there as backup. He snagged the ball before it left the infield.
“Way to back up your teammate, Blake! That’s how you look out for each other on the field!” Coach Sweatt hollered.
Blake grinned, feeling glad that he’d made the decision to try out. Maybe he’d make the Mega-Middies after all.
CHAPTER 4
SWING, BATTER, SWING!
After a brutal first day of tryouts, only eighteen hopeful players remained, including Blake. Knowing Austin had his back had made it easier for Blake to keep up with the rest of the players and handle the defensive and base-running drills.
When he got home that afternoon, Blake texted Franklin and his Wiffle ball friends to let them know he’d survived day one. They were all excited for him, but Blake wasn’t quite ready to celebrate. He wasn’t a lock to make the team just yet.
It was now day two, and the coaches wanted to see all the players bat before tryouts came to a close.
In the dugout, Blake grabbed his bat. Austin pulled him to the side. “This pitcher has a great curveball,” he said. “Be patient, and wait for the ball to break.”
Blake nodded. “Thanks,” he said.
“Blake, you’re up!” Coach Sweatt called.
Blake adjusted his batting gloves as he walked to the batter’s box. He got into a proper batting stance, surveyed the field, and looked back at the pitcher. These next at-bats could make or break his chance at becoming one of the Mega-Middies.
From second base, Kyle yelled, “Hey, the newbie is up! Infield in! There’s no way he can hit Ramon. He’s our best pitcher!”
Blake gripped his bat and awaited the pitch. I can do this, he told himself. It’s just like Wiffle ball—except a lot more pressure.
Ramon began his windup. Blake’s eyes widened as the fastball sped toward him.
Crack! he swung and connected. The ball shot over the third baseman’s head and bounced into the outfield for a blooper single.
“Not bad, but let’s switch it up a bit,” Coach Sweatt said. He signaled to Ramon for a different pitch.
Blake waited in the batter’s box, ready to swing. Ramon threw another pitch. It was the curveball Austin had warned him about. Blake completely whiffed on the pitch.
“See, I told you he’s just a backyard superstar!” Kyle jeered. “Give him that pitch again, Ramon. He can’t hit it!”
Ramon threw another curveball. Blake was late swinging but connected for a foul ball.
“Remember what I told you!” Austin shouted from the dugout.
Blake nodded and waited for the pitch. Another curveball, directly in the strike zone.
This time Blake kept his eye on the ball. He knew where the pitch was going to break and squared up the bat, making direct contact with the ball.
Crack-kow! The ball blazed down the first-base line, sending a mean line drive down the field!
“Well done, Blake!” Coach Sweatt said, smiling. “All right, let’s call it a day. All of you hustled hard and did great today. I wish we could keep all of you, but unfortunately that’s not possible. I’ll be calling you tomorrow to let you know if you’ve made the team. Thanks for your hard work, and good luck!”
CHAPTER 5
THE CALL
The following afternoon, Blake paced nervously back and forth across his living room. He still hadn’t heard a word from Coach Sweatt, and it was almost the end of the day.
“Keep it up and you’re going to wear ruts in the carpet,” Blake’s dad said.
Blake paused. “Sorry, Dad,” he said. “I’m just nervous about this call from Coach. I want to make the team so badly. I’m scared it’s not going to happen.”
Blake’s mom smiled. “If you gave it your all and did your best, then that’s all you can do,” she told him. “No matter what happens, we’re proud of you.”
Dad handed Blake his baseball glove. “Why don’t the two of you go outside and toss the ball a little bit?” he suggested. “I’ll let you know if Coach calls.”
Mom pulled her glove out from the closet. “That’s a good idea,” she agreed.
For the next twenty minutes, Blake and his mom tossed the ball back and forth. After a particularly hard throw, Blake paused.
“Too much heat for ya?” his mom asked, laughing.
“You’re just trying to break the webbing in my glove.” Blake chuckled. “Thanks for coming out here to throw with me. I needed the distraction.”
