Welcome back to the continuing saga of Mayfield baseball. The usual disclaimers still exist. Please donate to Nifty. Remember to be safe always.
This chapter is very much about baseball. The high school season begins for the Mustangs and its new, albeit interim, coach. The season starts out on a positive note, but ominous clouds lurk on the horizon, not only for the Mustangs, but for Eric and the Go to State Team.
CHAPTER 25 SCHOOL BASEBALL BEGINS
<Monday, March 9, Mayfield High School>
The high school baseball players gathered around Coach Sanders and Coach Hart in the gym. It was wet and blustery outside and practice was once again indoors, which the players and the coaches all hated.
"Okay, good job, today. Indoor practices are always rough. The forecast for tomorrow doesn't look much better," Coach Sanders said, eliciting a series of groans from the players. "It looks about the same for Wednesday as well." This brought louder groans since Wednesday was their first scheduled game. "Just keep working hard," Coach Sanders said. "The long term forecast says it might clear some starting this weekend."
"What about Friday?" Connor asked. "We got a game Friday, too."
"Friday is iffy. But always be prepared mentally to play, even this Wednesday. The one thing about forecasting the weather in the Great Pacific Northwest is that it is really easy to be wrong."
Coach Sanders ended the meeting and that ended practice. The sweaty boys headed for the locker room, and, for some, warm showers. Marty and Rich were among those who stripped to shower. Steve, Crawford, Ralph, and Trey were among those who didn't.
"Ain't no way I'm letting all the queers around here check out my junk," Ralph had declared after the first practice. Steve and Crawford concurred. Trey didn't shower because he was embarrassed by his small package.
As Marty turned on the water, Connor stepped under the showerhead next to his. "We haven't gotten a jerk off show from you yet this season," Connor said.
"You didn't get one in football either."
"Wow, you get to high school and you quit being horny," Connor said.
"Or I get to high school and I quit being stupid."
Connor surprised Marty by reaching over and groping his balls. "I liked you better when you were stupid."
"Hey, you want to see me whack my pud, I'm always happy to put on a private show," Marty said. "I never said I quit being horny."
"You're the only dude I'd take up on that offer," Connor said.
"Any time, bro. Just say the word."
Connor laughed and the conversation died there. Marty was never really sure what it was Connor wanted. The truth was Connor was never really sure what Connor wanted either. Connor swatted Marty on the butt as he left the shower, and the two teens exchanged sly grins.
"Does Connor have a crush on you or something?" Rich asked Marty as the two of them dried off by their lockers.
"I think it's `or something'. He's a straight dude who lusts after my body."
"He can't have it. It's all mine."
"I'll try not to give it away," Marty said as he pulled on his boxers.
The Mustangs ended up having both of their non-league games rained out. The forecast was correct as it started to clear Friday afternoon. However, the field was too wet to play ball, so that game was postponed. But it was dry enough on Saturday for the teams to have their first outdoor practice of the week. That was the good news. The bad news was the Go to State Team meeting for the month.
<Saturday, March 14, The Bear Pizza>
After the cold morning baseball practice, showers were in order except for the anti-shower holdouts. Many of the boys had places to go and things to do, but getting warmed up was the first priority. As Marty showered, he felt a sense of sadness that some of his teammates weren't planning to be where he thought they should be. He knew he wasn't the only person who would be disappointed.
He and Rich walked from the school to The Bear Pizza parlor where the March meeting of the Go to State Team was scheduled to convene. Eric, Noah, and Scott were sitting in the back room when they arrived.
"We're probably going to be the only two freshmen here today," Marty said as he sat at the long table with the two eighth graders.
"That's what I was afraid of," Eric said gloomily. "Things just don't seem to be going well at all. I don't think there will be very many eighth graders here either."
Marty knew that Eric was aware of the schism between him and the other freshmen. Rich was the only one who had Marty's back. Connor and Jerome had decided to join with the rest of the freshmen. The split was created when the rest of the freshmen ballplayers decided to abandon the Go to State Falcons in favor of the team Coach Gardner wanted them to play for. Connor started out backing Marty, but then sold out to the majority.
"This new summer coach moved to Kentburg from Seattle," Marty said. "He's been talking to all of us about the same team Coach Gardner wanted us on, only he's promising all kinds of stuff."
"Like what?"
"Trips."
"We're going to California this summer," Eric said.
"Yeah, Salinas. He's promising Disneyland."
"Where's he going to get the money?" Noah asked. "We've been earning ours for over a year."
"No clue," Marty said. "Plus, they're going to fly down."
"We're taking the train," Eric said, which suddenly sounded lame to him.
"I suppose the dream the whole group has about winning back-to- back State High School championships has ceased being important to them?" Noah asked.
"They're thinking new fancy uniforms, new jackets, new gloves for everybody—yeah, that was promised to us, too—and flying to Disneyland. That's what this summer is all about, not some dream a couple of years from now," Marty said. "I think it's really fucked, because you guys had me believing, especially with the way we played last summer."
"Sounds like he's trying to buy himself a team," Noah said.
"I think he's promising shit he can't deliver," Marty said.
"Where are all the eighth graders?" Rich asked.
"The whole Lars thing has them upset," Eric said. "Since Lars can't come to the meetings, Kevin has his back and isn't coming either. Since Kevin isn't coming, Kraig isn't coming. And since Kraig isn't coming..."
"...Hunter isn't coming," Noah finished. "I think this is what is called a soap opera."
"And so, Danny and Carl aren't coming because nobody else is coming. Gavin isn't coming because we're all queers, Justin isn't coming because we're all eighth graders, Korey isn't coming because his brothers aren't, and Chandler went somewhere with his father, Coach Ecklund."
"And add to that, there's more to the soap opera, as Noah likes to call it. Steve and Crawford are promising there won't be any queers on that new team. Them and the Kentburg dudes won't put up with faggots. If only they knew about Royce and Lance," Marty finished with a chuckle.
"We're talking Vince, Connor, Jerome, and Rodney, right?"
"Yeah."
"I thought our sexual orientation wasn't an issue with them."
"Maybe not, maybe it's just all the promises, but those two dickheads, Steve and Crawford, are making it sound like getting away from us faggots is the important part." Marty took a breath and went on. "And there is one other thing about that coach, who I think is a douche bag right there with Coach Gardner," Marty said.
"What?" Scott asked.
"He hints he knows some college girls on the Kentburg campus who wouldn't mind partying with a bunch of high school frosh and sophs. That sure wasn't a turn-on for me and Rich."
"There are five of us here, which isn't enough for the entire body to conduct business, since the by-laws specify a minimum of ten," Noah said in the kind of official manner that only Noah could pull off. "As for the board, we have Marty, Rich, Eric, and me. We are missing only Rodney, which gives us a quorum, so we can conduct business as a board. Most of what we do won't need full approval anyway, like confirming we're going to the tournament in Salinas and not the one in Santa Clara."
"I think before we conduct business we should order pizza," Marty said.
"Amen to that," Scott said. "I'm starving."
Gary, the owner of The Bear, was one of their sponsors and had already told the boys he was providing the pizza and drinks free of charge. They walked out of the meeting room and went to the counter where Gary met them.
"Not a big crowd today," Gary said.
"People have plans," Eric said noncommittally.
"It looks like lots of plans for a cold March day. Only five of you are here?"
"No, six of us," came a deep teen voice from behind them. They all turned to see Jerome entering the pizza parlor. "Add me to the pepperoni list," he said.
After the boys placed their orders, they refreshed their drinks and reentered the meeting room. "I thought you went to that lame meeting the dude from Kentburg was having," Marty said.
"That dude is a loser, right along with Steve, Crawford, and the guys from Kentburg who were there—sleaze bag losers, all of them. And our friends are gonna be just like them if they hang around with those losers. They get to fly in an airplane and get nice shit. That's not for this homey. I got tired of hearing all their crap about you guys and feeling like I was a nobody because I was the only brother there." Jerome took a breath and said that their Mayfield teammates didn't make him feel like an outcast, but the rest of them, including the coach, gave him the feeling that because he was black he was almost as unwanted as the gays on the team.
"Fuck `em," Jerome said with uncharacteristic vehemence. "I decided to be here with my friends. See if they can find a center fielder as good as me."
Since Jerome wasn't on the board, and they didn't have enough members to have a quorum of the entire Go to State Team, Jerome sat in on the board meeting, throwing in his ideas and opinions. The only real business that was decided was to go to the Salinas tournament instead of Santa Clara. They agreed that the by-laws allowed the board to make the decision. Noah said he would tell his father, who was the group's business manager, so he could make the final arrangements.
"There is no Great America in Salinas," Jerome said.
"Lots of lettuce, though," Noah said. "And even though it's a longer trip, overall going to Salinas will cost us less than for a bigger tournament. In other words for us, it will be less lettuce."
"Lisa keeps saying how smart you are," Jerome said. Noah's sister, Lisa, was Jerome's girlfriend. "And you keep showing that she's right."
"I have one big question," a dejected Eric said after Marty adjourned the board meeting. "What if we end up not having enough guys to field a team?"
Nobody had an answer for him.
<Monday, March 16, Mayfield Middle School>
"Where were you guys all weekend?" Eric asked the twins before school. "You weren't at the meeting, and I texted you, and left a voice mail, and you never got back."
Kevin looked kind of sheepish as he listened to Eric. He knew his friend well enough to know he was going to get grilled as soon as Eric saw him. "We went up to Canada to go skiing."
"How come you didn't tell me? I was hearing all kinds of things about how you weren't going to be part of Go to State because Lars couldn't belong any more. And that doesn't explain why you didn't answer my texts."
Kevin looked down at the table. It wasn't often that Eric saw his friend, the confident, outgoing catcher, look embarrassed by something. "We were going with Coach and Mrs. Ecklund and Chandler and we weren't supposed to tell anybody. I forgot we were having the meeting and Kraig didn't remind me. Plus, I just didn't want to deal with answering the texts. For one thing it costs big time when you go to Canada. Plus, I just wanted to leave all the bullshit here in Mayfield. I'm sorry."
"So you're not quitting the Go to State team then?"
"Um, well, I told Lars that me and Kraig wouldn't go to the meetings if he couldn't go. Sorry."
"So you're not going to play summer ball with the Falcons?" Eric could feel his dream being yanked away from him from all directions.
"Oh, we're going to play, we're just not going to the meetings. Even I know that by-laws say you don't have to go to the meetings to play on the baseball team."
"But you're such a big part of it all. I'm serious, you two are really important. "
"I hope this doesn't mean we're not friends any more," Kevin said.
"You're my friend and my catcher, but I'm really bummed out about this."
"Yeah, so am I. I'm doing it for Lars."
"Is this what Sherm told you to do after we left you there?" Eric asked.
"No. I asked him what he thought and he said quitting the group was a stupid idea. I better get to class."
The boys broke up their discussion and Eric went to homeroom. He had math with Noah first period. Eric gave Noah a quick recap of his chat with Kevin.
"Sherman is right," Noah said. "It's a stupid idea. Sometimes you have to put the group ahead of the individual, even if the individual is your boyfriend. I never thought you guys would quit doing things last summer when I was all bummed out about Bobby. I think Kevin should lead his life. I bet if he did, Lars would understand. But what do I know; I'm the only twelve year old in the eighth grade."
"Yeah, twelve going on forty when it comes to knowing stuff." Eric leaned close to Noah's ear just as the bell rang. "I love you, Noah." Noah beamed his bright smile as Eric headed to his desk.
The talk at lunch was strictly about baseball. Practices for the middle school Titans had started the week before, with most of them indoors because of the wet weather. Things were moving slower than usual, both because of the weather and because everybody on the JV team was getting used to Coach Clauson. The new coach was a retired teacher from Meadow Park, who coached recreation baseball there. He had the time to help Coach Ecklund with the JV. Coach Ecklund said it would only be for a year until they could hire a regular coach. Of course the Meadow Park boys were all saying he was a traitor for coaching at Mayfield, but it was all said in fun and not with spitefulness.
Danny and Carl sought out Eric and apologized for not being at the meeting, saying they would be sure to be at the next one. Eric was positive he could take them at their word. Hunter merely said he would go where Kraig went, which led Eric to say that maybe he could try being his own person, which led to Hunter walking away in a huff. Eric kicked himself for saying what had obviously been the wrong thing. He wished he had Noah's ability to always say the right thing. He wished he could figure out a way make the Go to State Team important to everybody again. For whatever, reason he was losing control of things where that group was concerned.
<Week of March 15>
The Mayfield High School Mustangs were finally able to open their season. Bobby's brother, Tyler, who was a junior, was the starting pitcher. He had managed to steer clear of all of the controversies surrounding the team. He considered himself to be gay. He enjoyed sex with males, whether it was with his friend Cole or with Mr. Robinson, or the sex he'd had with his brother before his accident. He hadn't enjoyed it with the slime balls his mother brought home, even though he got off doing it. While he had dated a couple of girls, he hadn't gone beyond kissing and copping some feels, but he didn't feel like he was missing out on anything.
His affair with Mr. Robinson was special for him. After what happened to Coach Gardner, he was worried about the two of them getting caught and Mr. Robinson losing his job, or worse, going to jail.
"We've been as discreet as possible," Mr. Robinson had told him last weekend as they cuddled, after having had some wild and crazy sex on his bed. "I'd be lying if I didn't say I was concerned, but I've been concerned since the first time the two of us had sexual contact. What's done is done so we might as well enjoy what time we have. I would lose my job, but the age of consent is sixteen, so at least there would be no jail. We can deny anything happened before you turned sixteen."
"What do you mean what time we have? I'm not going anywhere."
"With you being chased by half the girls in the junior and sophomore classes our time is limited."
"I love you, David."
"I know you do, and I love you, Tyler. But we both know this isn't the start of some lifetime commitment. For one thing there's a chance you might be a heterosexual."
"You're not going to forget me are you? And I keep telling you there is no way I'm straight."
"I will always be here for you, even after you have an overweight wife and five kids in tow."
Tyler giggled. "Thanks. I guess I needed to hear that." Then he shifted the subject. "I'm bigger than you are now."
"Yes you are, from head to toe to the wood in between."
"Fuck me again, Dave. I want you in me again. Fuck me even harder." And that is exactly what the high school teacher did to his eager sixteen year old pupil.
Tyler had that on his mind during the bus ride to the game. He had to do some adjusting to get his thinking off of sex and on to baseball.
The game was at McQuade Island, a long drive plus a ferry ride away. In fact, the team bus left just after lunch for the non-league game. The Mustangs had no parents or fans at the game, but it didn't matter. They were clearly the better team as Tyler pitched five strong innings in a 6-2 win. But they were to be his last innings for awhile. He twisted his left ankle fielding the ball on the first play of the sixth inning.
The junior varsity played at home against the JV team from Elma. Rodney started and also threw five innings in a 9-3 Mayfield win. Marty went 2-for-3 in his first high school game.
The Mustangs opened their league season at Kentburg, their arch rivals. The Donkey started that game and a combination of his pitching and a solid defense gave the Mustangs a hard fought 3-1 win. The Donkey went six innings, giving up only three hits and no runs. Bryce, another junior, and a friend of the Donkey, pitched the seventh, giving up a run on a walk and a double.
The JV was at home again, and also eked out a win, beating the Kentwood Royals 7-6.
Saturday meant another long bus ride for the varsity as they played the St. Michael's Loggers, a long time Class A baseball powerhouse. They were supposed to have played the Loggers the week before, but the game was rained out. The Donkey was going to start that game since he was the Mustangs' best pitcher, but Coach Sanders wanted him to start a league game rather than the non-league affair against the Loggers. Instead, he started Brad Boyd, a senior, who got hit hard and hit often and only lasted two innings. The score was 6-0 when he left the game. Bryce came in and pitched three innings, holding the Loggers scoreless. The Mustangs cut the lead to 6-3, but that was as close as they got in an eventual 8-3 loss. The JV team didn't have a corresponding game scheduled.
<Week of March 22>
The Mustangs had three league games scheduled for the next week. The JV always played its league games opposite the varsity, playing on the road when the varsity was at home, and visa versa. The Monday game at Meadow Park was played in a steady drizzle.
The Dawg started that game. While Ryan, the Dawg, was a decent enough pitcher, he didn't enjoy pitching as much as he did playing the infield. He was a soft tosser, who kept the hitters off-balance, just the opposite of his boyfriend, Mike the Donkey. He was the first of three Mustang pitchers, throwing four innings as the Mayfield nine won again with a 9-4 win. The Mustangs were beginning to think they had a good team. They were already seeing the results of the discipline and fundamentals that Coach Sanders brought to the program. The JV won 15-2 as they hammered the ball at home against the Sentinels.
Tuesday saw the Mayfield Middle School Titans opener get rained out. On Wednesday the Mustangs were supposed to play the Lakeshore Bears, but more rain fell and that game was rained out as well. The Donkey had been scheduled to start against the Bears, who were a preseason favorite. The high school and the middle school games were rained out on Thursday, although the rains had stopped a couple of hours before game time. The fields were simply too wet for games to be played.
The Thursday rainout against the Monte Vikings was rescheduled for Friday. The Lakeshore game would be made up after spring break, which was the next week. The Donkey started the Monte game, since it was now the only one of the week, and pitched a nifty 4-hit shutout, striking out nine while walking only one. The middle school Titans would make up its rainouts after spring break. Considering how the Titan season was about to unfold, it was without a doubt a good thing that they didn't play before the break.
The Mustang varsity, after their 5-0 win, was now 4-1 overall and 3-0 in league, a much better start than they could have hoped for, considering the turmoil that had surrounded the start of their season.
"Our record would not be this good under Gardner," the Donkey declared emphatically to his friends. The Donkey had never made a secret of his dislike for the coach going back to his JV days.
"We got lucky," Cody, a senior, said. "Gardner couldn't keep it in his pants and now we have a good coach."
"We could go to Districts, or maybe farther," Zach said confidently.
"Hey, you know what Dawn told me?" Cody asked. Dawn was Cody's girlfriend as well as Bryce's sister.
"I'll bite," Ryan said. "What did she say?"
"She said she wished it was her that Gardner was boffing."
"Fuck," Zach said. "She's got enough trouble keeping up with you and Bryce." Bryce blushed at Zach's insinuation, which they all knew was true.
"And you, too," Cody said. "You've sampled the wares." Dawn was a bit of a nymphomaniac, which Cody accepted as long as she put out for him first. "Plus, she's got this little thirteen year old in the eighth grade on the hook. She likes `em young. And, she's still after the Donkey and Dawg cherries."
"As soon as she grows a dick she can take them," Mike retorted with a laugh.
Things were looking pretty good for the varsity boys and for the JV boys, who were 4-0. What none of them could foresee was the effect that Spring Break would have on their season and on the Mustang baseball program.
<Spring Break, Saturday, March 28 to Sunday, April 5>
The Dawg and the Donkey spent their first day of Spring Break helping their father. Mike the Donkey's father and mother had adopted the Dawg when he was in middle school. He had come to live with the family after having horrendous problems at home. The boys' job that day was to fertilize the front and back yards and weed the front yard flower beds.
"This Donkey is going to be an apartment dweller when he grows up. No way do I spend cold afternoons hoeing weeds. Or warm afternoons, either."
"I'm not going to argue with that," Ryan said. "I'd be very disappointed if you thought otherwise."
"What time is your student coming over?" Mike asked.
"I said to be here at three."
"It's two-thirty now. I declare us officially finished fertilizing and weeding. Let's put the tools away and shower up."
A half hour later the two seniors were showered and dressed. They made it from their room over the garage to the main house just in time to hear the doorbell ring. "I've got it," Ryan called out to their parents. "That's my cooking student."
The Dawg was a multi-talented teen. He was a good baseball player, an accomplished writer and painter, and a superb cook. "I always feel like such a donkey around you," Michael often told him.
"You're too good in bed to be a donkey," Ryan would say.
"Admit it, you just like the ass on this ass," would be Michael's reply as he patted Ryan's bubble butt.
The Dawg's visitor was Marty, who was accompanied by Rich. When Ryan found out that Marty had signed up for cooking at school, he offered to give the freshman some advanced studies. Marty was pleased to find out that a senior baseball player not only had taken the cooking class, but that he was very serious about cooking. Today was going to be Marty's first lesson. He would be putting together dinner under the watchful guidance of the Dawg.
"You and I can go watch whatever old classic baseball game is on the MLB Network," the Donkey told Rich. "It's best to stay out of the way of a cooking Dawg."
"Marty is getting to be the same way," Rich said. "He's making more and more of his own meals instead of eating Mrs. B's. He makes some mean casseroles. He just tried chicken and dumplings, which came out pretty good. But don't ask about his try at cooking potatoes au gratin. We called it potatoes au rotten."
Ryan and Marty spent the afternoon in the kitchen, with Marty doing the bulk of the work. He was pleased to learn some of the finer points for cooking from someone who was a peer, even if he was three grades above him. The menu was grilled swordfish, rice pilaf, stuffed scallops, and a mixed vegetable medley. The Dawg liked the flavor and texture of swordfish. He thought it would be helpful for Marty to see that preparing an exotic food needn't be overly difficult.
The two teens finally called everybody to dinner. The four boys and two adults sat to eat, and all agreed Marty had put together an outstanding dinner.
"It was all the Dawg's doing," Marty said modestly.
"We made the menu together at school," Ryan said. "Mom bought the groceries we needed. You followed the recipe while I showed you special techniques. Once you learn the techniques anybody can follow a menu and make a great meal, and that includes you, Marty. You did a great job."
"I dispute the fact that anybody can do it," the Donkey said. "Some of us were born to eat the great meals that others cook. I am one of those expert eaters. And as an expert eater, I declare Marty's dinner to be a five star gourmet repast."
"Repast? When did you learn a word like repast?" Ryan asked.
"From a certain eighth grader when I texted him about this special meal during a little baseball chat we were having."
"It's gotta be Noah," Rich said.
"Who else could it be?"
While Marty and Ryan had cleaned up as they cooked ("always clean as you go," the Dawg had cautioned Marty, "it leaves you with more working room and less to deal with later on."), Mike and Rich took care of the dishes once they finished dessert. Ryan had created a key lime pie for dessert, which he felt complimented the fish perfectly.
After dinner the boys went to the Dawg and Donkey's apartment in the attic of the garage. Michael and Ryan's parents loved the dinner because not only was it delicious, they didn't have to do a lick of work.
"Wow, very cool," Marty said as he surveyed the large room and all of its decorations and accoutrements. The room had an obvious artistic touch to it.
"Yours is cool, too," Rich said. Rich was always afraid of something touching Marty's inferiority complex. One of the things Marty had told him about an alcoholic was that an alcoholic was a person with a big ego and poor self image.
But Marty was usually tougher than Rich gave him credit for. "Yeah, mine has a living room and kitchen and bathroom and bedroom. But it looks like a jock lives in it instead of a gay boy."
"Jeffrey has helped you with some things."
"He's got the gay boy interior designer touch," Marty laughed. "Especially when his own artwork gets hung. Plus the Teddy bears on the mantle are a nice touch."
"Speaking of hung," Michael said," I've been impressed by what you two freshmen have displayed in the showers after practice."
"You're talking about Marty, of course," Rich said. "My junk is pretty average."
"Would you guys be willing to put that junk on display?" the Donkey asked.
"You mean in a little different way than you see it on display in the shower room?" Marty asked.
"That was exactly what I was thinking. But no pressure. The Dawg and I are a bit horny after working hard all day, and, well, you are a couple of pretty hot looking freshman."
Marty was about to agree to whatever the Donkey wanted, but he actually did some thinking before stuffing his foot into his mouth. He quickly shut his mouth before anything came out of it and looked over at Rich.
"No fucking," Rich said. God, he can be such a prude, Marty thought, but damn I really love fucking his ass.
"Fair enough."
Not much more needed to be said as the four quickly stripped down, sporting boners from the slender five inches of Rich, to the thicker five-and-a-half of Ryan, to the not yet mature, but six inches of Marty, to the mature, thick, six-and-a-half of the Donkey. Precum was leaking copiously from the Donkey's almost eighteen year old cock with its thick nest of pubic hair.
"I guess if we're not going to fuck I might as well do this," Marty said as he got down on his knees and started licking the low hanging balls of the Donkey. Rich thought that Marty was going to go after his cooking teacher, but he realized almost immediately that Marty was more enamored with the larger tool of the Donkey. He shrugged his shoulders and grinned at Ryan, who flopped down on the bed with his legs splayed.
The boys were soon all on the bed, a pair of sixty-nines side by side, freshman sucking senior, senior sucking freshman. Marty was in Seventh Heaven as he alternately licked the balls and sucked on the Donkey's man-sized cock, taking it deep into his throat. Even though Rich had a sparse line of pubic hair and a less than mature dick and balls, Ryan eagerly and with gusto pulled Rich's five inches deep into his mouth and twirled his tongue rapidly round the rock-hard, precum- leaking dick. The only sounds in the room were the grunts, moans, and slurps of the fourteen to seventeen year old boys as they were totally immersed in pleasuring each other.
Rich fired first, filling Ryan's mouth with his sweet, light boy crude. Michael was next, his "donkey cum" firing into Marty's throat as the fifteen year old managed to get most of the Donkey's cock into his throat. Marty told the Donkey to release his cock from his mouth, then kneeled over the senior and jerked his cock so that his cum landed in Michael's hair, on his face, and over his neck. Seeing Marty cum all over his lover was what sent Ryan over the edge as he gave Rich a generous sample of his teen cum to swallow.
"Holy shit," Michael said as he wiped his face and licked Marty's cum off his fingers. "That was the perfect after dinner treat. Wish you'd given me a more generous helping."
"I just wanted to do that, I don't know why."
"You did it because it made you a little dominant over a senior, which is okay with this Donkey, especially since you are one hell of a cock sucker."
The boys lay together naked for awhile, talking about baseball, sex, gayness, and the crappy rainy weather. Finally Marty and Rich decided it was time for them to go.
"You don't want to stay the night?" Michael asked.
"Your bed is a bit tight for four big guys," Rich said.
"The Dawg and I see that as a plus."
"We'll see you guys at the Nooner," Rich said. "We plan to be there to see you win." The Nooner was scheduled for Wednesday. It was an annual non-league game that the varsity played during Spring Break. It started at noon and was always well-attended. It frequently featured one of the better Class A programs in the state as the Mustang opponent. This year was no exception as the North Lake Academy in Bellevue would be their opponent.
Marty thanked Ryan for the cooking lesson. Ryan said there would be more to come, which brought a smile to Marty's face. Rich said he'd think about doing "the nasty" with them some time, and the freshmen headed out into the cool, drizzly night to walk home, turning down a ride from the Donkey.
"That was a great time," Michael said.
"They're good kids," Ryan told him.
"Real good. I hope they get to where they want to go, winning those State titles. But even if they don't, they'll never forget the experience of spending all this time trying to get there."
"We have a chance of getting there," Ryan said.
"Hey, the way we're playing you never know." Little did Ryan and Mike realize how far off base that Donkey observation was.
Wednesday arrived quickly. It was the day of the Nooner for this year. Fans and kids arrived early to get good seats and soak in the atmosphere. It was the only baseball game of the year where the school band played and the cheerleaders cheered. It had a football game type atmosphere about it.
Like the Mustangs, the Orcas of North Lake Academy had one loss. Coach Sanders kept with every Nooner tradition started by Coach Collins, but one. Coach Collins had always started an underclassman to give him experience against a top team. Coach Sanders wanted to go with his best pitchers rather than have them throw only during practice. He felt the more game experience this early in the season the sharper they would be as the season progressed. No pitcher would go more than two innings, however. Coach Sanders told his pitchers they had nothing to hold back for and to not be afraid to "let it fly."
The weather was clear and sunny, a beautiful April Fool's Day. The temperature was cool, never quite hitting 60, but there was no wind and it was comfortable.
"Lars isn't coming?" Eric asked Kevin.
"His dad won't let him. The usual rule—he can only see us at school and on the baseball team."
"Is his dad going to be like that for the rest of Lars's life?" Noah asked.
"I dunno. I just know Lars is miserable. You've seen him at school. I mean he tries to be all friendly and stuff, but I know his grades are going downhill and he's really been sucking in practices."
"Well, at least your dad let you come," Kraig said to Hunter.
"He's been pretty cool about it all. He just doesn't want me spending the night with anybody for now."
"How long is `for now' going to last?" Noah asked.
"I dunno. I'm afraid to ask."
"I'm not," Kraig said. "I'll ask him. I miss your ass." That got a hearty laugh from the four other boys sitting in that section at the time. While it was heartfelt, all of them felt the stress of Lars's exile.
The Donkey started the game and his two innings went smoothly as he allowed only a two out single in the second. He also homered in the bottom of the second to give the Mustangs a 1-0 lead. He had a big rooting section among the eighth graders, along with Marty and Rich, who ended up sitting with the middle school boys.
Ryan pitched the third and fourth innings, giving up a run on two hits and a walk in the top of the fourth inning to tie the score.
Brad Boyd went to the bullpen with Ralph, the backup catcher, to warm up. Brad was slated to throw the fifth and sixth innings. The Mayfield High School baseball field was really a ballpark, with the bleachers set into concrete stands surrounding the infield. Unlike a lot of high school fields, the bullpen was not on the field of play, so the boys didn't need to take a spotter with them to watch for batted balls.
"It's a good thing the faggot is letting me catch you. My dad is pretty pissed at him for having Zach do most of the catching. I'm just as good as he is. My dad's talked to Fitzgerald (the athletic director) and Wilson (the principal) more than once about that." Ralph was not, in fact, as good as Zach and the difference wasn't even close. Ralph had issues catching pitches on occasion and wasn't as good a hitter. But Brad was Ralph's best friend, and he heartily agreed with Ralph's assessment. He disliked Coach Sanders almost as much as Ralph did.
"I'm glad I'm pitching to you and not that faggot Zach," Brad said as they started their warm-ups.
"Anybody who hangs out with Michael and Ryan is gay," Ralph agreed, eschewing the nicknames of his two teammates.
"The big beer bash at the farm is on Friday. Are you going?" Brad asked.
"Hell, ya, I'm going. The faggot coach is full of BS if he thinks we're gonna stay home because we signed that dumb contract. We signed it the last two years and went to the spring kegger and nothing happened. Nobody cares because it's been going on forever. People would fire the faggot if he suspended everybody who went, I'm not kidding."
"Yeah, but he did suspend an eighth grader last year."
"That was Ecklund who did that. Ecklund's an asshole. I hated him when I played for him. Saunders doesn't have the balls to suspend anybody, he's just trying to show how tough he is, when he's really a queer with no backbone. And those eighth graders don't belong at that party anyway. It's for us guys in high school and shit to have fun with the graduates." Ralph failed to mention that he got drunk and sick at that party when he was an eighth grader.
That wasn't how some of the graduates saw the situation. Many of them preferred that the high school players weren't there. However, since most of them went when they were in high school, they really couldn't say much. After all, the party with the grads and undergrads from the baseball program had become a long time tradition.
The game entered the fifth inning in a 1-1 tie, but Brad started out wild, walking the bases loaded before he finally got an infield popup. But he couldn't get out of the jam as the Bears put together a big four run inning. Coach Sanders went to Bryce an inning earlier than he'd planned and he held the Bears to one more run. The Mustangs managed to get a meaningless run in the bottom of the seventh and ended up losing 6-2. The game told Coach Sanders how much he was going to miss Tyler.
While the little ballpark had a place to store equipment, a first class concession stand, restrooms, and even an umpire's changing room, it did not have its own locker room or showers. The boys had to trudge across the secondary baseball field to the school locker room to change and shower. The Mustangs were disappointed with their loss, but they felt that, except for the one bad inning, they had played well.
Coach Sanders agreed with the players, praising them on their hustle and improving attitude and reminding them that all of their remaining twelve games were league games, except for a rainout makeup against Lake Suquamish. He told them there would be practice the next day and the team would get Friday, Saturday, and Sunday off.
At Thursday's practice Coach Sanders called the JV and varsity teams for a meeting after practice was over. The players sat in a semicircle on the dry grass to the left field side of the ballpark's infield. Coach Sanders and Coach Hart sat as well, facing the semicircle. This had become their standard meeting format when the ground was dry. Coach Sanders liked to be on the same level as his players when he could, which was why he sat on the ground as well.
"I have it on good authority that the annual baseball alumni beer fest at Abner's farm is tomorrow. I just want to remind you all that you signed a contract to represent Mayfield High School and this team in a manner that puts the school and the program in the best light. Part of that contract states that you will not drink alcohol or attend any party where alcohol is served to minors."
That got some grunts and snorts from a couple of the upperclassmen sitting to the back of the group. "I know the previous coaching staff looked the other way when members of the baseball team attended that party. It seems to have become an entrenched tradition."
"Damn right it has," came a voice from the senior section. Coach Sanders was certain it was Ralph who spoke up. He ignored the individual, but addressed the comment.
"That tradition ends this year. This is not the same coaching staff. This staff will not tolerate players casting a shadow on the Mayfield High baseball program by blatantly flouting the rules. This year starts a new tradition—nobody from this team will be seen there. And if, for some reason, somebody decides to attend, their season will be done."
"Gonna be tough to kick everybody off the team," somebody muttered in back. This time Coach Sanders wasn't sure who it was. It could even have been the parent he saw standing a few feet outside of the team's semicircle.
Coach Sanders could feel the tension rising in the group. He thought about pretending that he hadn't heard the comment, but then decided it needed to be addressed. "Actually, it's as easy as waving good- bye, which I am more than willing to do. Have a safe weekend and see you all on Monday." He got up and walked away from the sitting team before anybody could give a retort.
He was stopped by the parent, however. It was Ralph's father, who was obviously not a happy man.
"I heard that phony little speech of yours," the man said.
"Parents are always welcome to listen in, unless I talk to the team indoors." Coach Sanders said noncommittally.
"You don't fool me. We both know that you have the word interim in that fancy head coach title of yours. Kids on this team have some powerful parents, who would just fucking hate to see their kid's baseball season ruined by the likes of you."
"I'm not sure I follow," Coach Sanders said, even though he followed the father's line of illogic perfectly.
"That party out at the farm is a tradition. The sheriff looks the other way as long as no one drives, the coaches here have all looked the other way, the school administration looks the other way. Suddenly you're threatening to suspend guys who are going to do what kids here have been doing for years. I mean we got a lot of seniors on this team who would be mightily pissed off they were going to miss the party. You know they're going to go out to that farm."
"I guess that leaves them with a choice, doesn't it? They can party or they can play baseball.'
"Only problem is, you gotta find out who was there. Easier said than done. And I assure you that you go suspending anybody you not only lose the word interim in your title, you will lose the words head coach, too."
"I guess that's a chance I have to take. If I'm going to run a baseball program, then it's going to stand for something more than just winning games. It's going to stand for integrity and the highest order of sportsmanship."
"That bullshit might work coaching the little boys in middle school. You're coaching the big boys now. You're dealing with a lot of tradition, from winning championships to things like that big gathering on the farm." Coach Sanders was about to reply, but the father went on. "As for your mighty integrity, you showed you got none of that by how you treat my boy."
"And just how do I treat him?"
"You don't start him. He rots on the bench. A senior catcher rotting on the bench—a good senior catcher rotting on the bench. I'm sure him sitting has everything to do with me speaking against you at the school board meeting. If you had integrity, you wouldn't hold that against my kid. Instead, like the asshole you are, you punish him and sit him on the bench."
"Very simply, Mr. Richardson, there is another senior catcher on the team who outworks your son and has played ahead of him since middle school."
"That's because the other coaches are as stupid as you are." The current seniors were seventh graders when Coach Sanders started as JV Coach at Mayfield Middle School. He'd coached Ralph that year. Ralph was his starting catcher only because Zach played on the varsity. He was a decent enough catcher then with some obvious talent, but he never worked to improve the way Zach had, and, by his freshman year, he'd fallen behind Zach in every facet of the game. Ralph's father seemed to have forgotten that year in Ralph's school baseball career.
"Coach Gardner promised Ralph a starting job," the father went on. "At least he knew who the best catcher was."
From what he knew of Coach Gardner, Coach Sanders couldn't help but think that Ralph's father's stance at the school board meeting had a lot to do with Coach Gardner's willingness to play Ralph. Or maybe he'd even made the promise in return for a favor, like he had with Steve and Crawford.
"Mr. Richardson, I think this discussion is over. For us to talk any more would serve no useful purpose."
"At least Gardner had the...integrity...to stick his wick in some girl's pussy instead of up some boy's ass, if you get my drift." The father ended the conversation by getting in those last words. He left the field, feeling satisfied.
Coach Hart walked up to the besieged head coach. "That sounded a bit ominous."
Coach Sanders jumped, startled by the unexpected voice. "Damn, I didn't even know you were here."
"I heard the entire conversation from the dugout. That asshole didn't know I was here either. I think it might end up being a good thing I stuck around."
"I'm afraid you might be right. Let's hope nobody tore the locker room apart in the meantime."
"I doubt they did, but we may have other things to worry about."
"And once again you are probably right. How about we get everybody out of the locker room and go to The Barn. I could use a big double cheeseburger right now. We can talk all about everything there. My treat."
"I'm game." The two coaches headed for the school, neither one of them noticing Connor and Vince. They had been sitting on the bench in the visitor's dugout overhearing the entire conversation.
Coach Sanders had taken over a program at the last minute, a program in disarray. He felt like he was starting to build something with the team's good start on the field. But he could see all that falling apart on Friday, unless some kids made some good decisions. He didn't know if they would do the right thing or not, but what he did know was this: If he was going to have a winning program with a reputation for integrity, his players would have to make those decisions for themselves after getting all of the necessary information. He wasn't going to babysit them. What they needed to learn was that there would be rewards for making the right decisions and consequences for making the wrong ones, consequences that were fair and equitable. If his players couldn't learn to make their own decisions on that basis, that meant he, as a coach and a teacher, had taught them nothing. The next week would reveal what those first tough lessons would be for everyone, including himself.
Next: Scraping Bottom-High School