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In this chapter Marty celebrates a special birthday and learns more about some special friends. Baseball starts for the Mayfield Mustangs. They are favored by many to win the Seamount League. They believe they are good enough to do so. Now they find out if they are as good as everyone thinks.
CHAPTER 44 JUNIOR YEAR-REACHING FOR THE DREAM
<Saturday, January 28, Centralia>
[MARTY]
It's birthday night here at the Saturday Centralia meeting. I like birthday nights because there is always cake. This birthday night is special for me for two reasons. First, it's my fourth birthday, and second it is Dallas's nine-month birthday. I will get a nice bronze coin, while Dallas will get a plastic coin. The month coins are one, two, three, six, and nine month. You gotta have a year before you get the metal coins.
Dallas had gotten his other coins at the Mayfield Sunday meeting. I don't go to that meeting much. I like going to the Saturday Centralia meeting with Sparky and to the Olympia young people's meeting, which is Saturday afternoon. Sometimes I do both Saturday meetings.
Sparky was at the meeting, of course. This is his home group. Jeffrey wanted to be there to see "drunk boy" get his coin. Milton, the Schnoz, and Mrs. Katz were there to support Dallas. The Mayfield meeting was their home group. Rich, Eric, Noah, and my brother John were there as my support.
After all of the usual stuff that opened the meeting, the birthday countdown began. I guess you could call it a count up since we started with twenty-four hours for the totally new guy, then went to one month and worked up from there. A guy named Joey, who was in his forties, got a one month chip and told everybody how he did it, which is what we all do when we get a chip.
Nobody got a two month chip. A girl named Sara, who was twenty- one, got her three month chip. Her last drunk was on her twenty-first birthday, when she ended up in jail. She was like me and started drinking when she was really young, in her case when she was eleven. Then a guy in his sixties got his three month chip. He said this was his fourth three month chip and that this time he was going to get things done right.
The meeting secretary said, "Anybody with six months?" Nobody got up, so that meant no.
"How about nine months?"
That was when Dallas got up with the world's biggest shit eating grin on his face and everybody applauded. He got a hug from the secretary. Everybody getting a chip gets a hug, which is a tradition. "Tell us how you did it," the secretary said.
Dallas looked really nervous. I know he didn't like to share much. He was fourteen and felt intimidated by all the adults around him. I knew what that feeling was like. Dallas liked going with me to the young person's meeting best, but we couldn't do that one as much as we'd like. I gave Dallas thumbs up and Mrs. Katz blew him a little kiss, which I think embarrassed him even more. I gotta give him credit, he knew what he needed to do and he did it.
He introduced himself and said, "I did it by listening to my sponsors, Milton and Marty, who are really cool. And sometimes I read the book and I try hard to do the work and follow the steps, but I still need to do my fourth step. But that one is really scary. I guess I could work harder, but I didn't drink for nine months and I won't drink today and thanks to everybody for helping me."
The crowd applauded again. Dallas got hugs from Milton, me, and Mrs. Katz before he sat down.
Chuck, the old-timer sitting at the table behind us, grumbled something to the old-timer next to him about how he drank twice as long as that kid had been alive, and how kids don't belong here because they haven't been around long enough to know what being a drunk was all about. I wanted to tell him to shut his fucking mouth, but I kept my little resentment in check. Luckily Dallas didn't hear what the bastard said. As proud as I was of Dallas and as proud as he was of himself, I knew his sobriety was on shaky ground. He didn't have the support at home that I had at the Bednarzyck house.
"Anybody with one year?" Nobody. "How about eighteen months?" That was the last chip that wasn't an even year. Nobody. "Two years?"
A guy named Gordon got up. Gordon was a college student. I liked him and we talked when we could. He had been a baseball player in high school, which made him even cooler.
After Gordon finished, the secretary asked for any three year birthdays. Nobody. "Anybody with four years of continuous sobriety?" That was me and I got up. I got my applause, my hug, and my coin.
I introduced myself and said how I did it. "I did it by not drinking a day at a time for four years. I did it by having people like Mr. B in my life. He loved me unconditionally until I could start loving myself, even if I did puke all over his shoes the first time we met." That got me some laughs. "I did it because I had the love of my friends who came here to be with me tonight. I did it because a big little Hurricane came into my life to become my little brother and loved me even if I came into his life as `drunk boy'. I did it because my blood brother, John, stuck with me when I was a big time asshole to be around. I did it because my total best friend (I wasn't ready yet to come out in a meeting and call Rich my boyfriend) was there when I started to get sober. And I did it because you guys who have been sober for a long time told me to keep coming back and showed me how to keep walking the walk." When I said that, I wasn't so sure I meant Chuck the grump, who had thirty-five years in. "Thanks everybody."
I went back to the table my group was at and had to put up with hugs from Sparky, then Jeffrey, then Rich, and then John. Eric and Noah nodded to me, and I knew they wanted to hug me, but would let it wait until later to keep things moving. I have lots of smart friends.
After me, there was a six year, two ten years, and an eighteen year chip given out. Lots of years, but, as Sparky points out often, there are years not getting chips. He says it's not because people didn't start to get sober then—but something happened to a lot of people after they came that kept them from coming back.
"We will now take a fifteen minute break to get cake and refresh coffee. Then we will finish with our regular meeting," the secretary said. Every group does their meetings differently. This was how we did our birthday meeting.
All of us got our cake and sat at our tables. We met in a church basement and the tables were always set up down there. Behind me, Chuck started in again. "I've drank for twenty-eight years. I got thirty- five years of sobriety. Now we got two kids, maybe thirteen and sixteen, get up and talk about being sober. They got nothing to tell me that I don't already know. I was still learning to drink at their age, so tell me what the fuck they think they're doing here?" he said to his buddies.
Before they could answer, I turned around and said, "I'm here so I don't have to spend over thirty years learning to be a resentful old grouch like you are." I wanted to call him an old asshole, but I did a good job of not being a prick about it.
His friend, Harold, another guy with lots of sobriety, started laughing. "Looks like you just had a young buck hand you a dose of humility, Chuck."
That was when I got my surprise. Chuck turned to me and said in his gruff voice, "I like that. You got gumption kid. Sobriety ain't worth having if you ain't gonna stand up for it." Then he put out his hand and I shook it.
The next thing I knew we were chatting about what a great guy Mr. B was. Chuck also knew Milton and said how Dallas was lucky to have him in his life. "I been watching you since you first started coming in, kid. I seen you looking like a teen punk who didn't give a shit about the work it takes to be sober and I know you kept going back out drinking to prove you weren't a drunk. But these last four years you got to be different and I seen you grow up. So instead of pissing and moaning about your age, maybe I should remember that the program is for anybody with a desire to stop drinking. Keep giving it those twenty-four hours."
"Thanks."
"And if you get to where they call you an old-timer, remember being humble don't hurt. I forget that sometimes and needed a kick in the butt from a young teen punk to wake me up. Both you kids are doing a good job, so forgive me for acting like I knew everything."
"You're forgiven."
"And one last thing; you sounded damn good up there sharing how you done your four years worth. You got a way with words and talking to people. Have you ever talked at a speaker meeting?"
"No, I've never even thought about doing that."
"Your time will come. You're a good talker and I know from listening to you share that for a young teen punk you got good things to say."
That was my how my fourth birthday went. I got my coin. I got my hugs—all of them, since Eric and Noah hugged me at the break. Mrs. Katz and Milton congratulated me. I made a new friend in a seventy- five year old dude named Chuck, who I judged to be nothing but a grouch, but ended up being just a gruff old guy who had a big heart and a ton of sobriety.
Eric and Noah rode back to Mayfield with Milton and Mrs. Katz. I know that Mrs. Katz had to eat up having those two brains riding with her, and I bet the Schnoz did, too. John was living in Centralia now, so he went home. Dallas had come to the meeting with Milton and the "Quat", as he called Mrs. Katz, but he wanted to ride back with Sparky, Jeffrey, Rich, and me.
Dallas, Jeff, and I sat in the middle seat while Rich rode up front with Mr. B. The three of us fell asleep with me in the middle, Dallas leaning on my left side and Jeff on my right side. Sparky told me later we looked really cute all cuddled up in the back.
Dallas ended up spending the night with Jeffrey and me. He slept with me while Jeffrey slept in one of the sleeping bags I keep in the closet. Having overnight company in my apartment is not strange. I'm talking about somebody other than Rich or Jeff. I think some guys come to crash here because they know it's a safe place where there's no fucking peer pressure to do something like drink or toke.
Jeffrey slept naked in his sleeping bag, but me and Dallas slept in our boxers. I wanted Dallas to get the idea that sleeping with me wasn't about sex. But the bad me wanted his bare skin against me if we cuddled, and we did end up cuddling.
"Do you like me, Marty?" he whispered as he rolled on his side and draped his arm around my bare chest. I knew this wasn't supposed to be about sex, but shit, I was an eighteen year old gay dude, and I was human, so I boned up.
"Of course I like you, Dallas."
"Do you love me?"
"Yes, I love you."
"Will you fuck me?"
"No, I won't fuck you."
"But if you love me..."
"There's all kinds of love, Dallas, and this isn't that kind of love."
"He won't fuck me either," Jeffrey yelled out from his spot on the floor.
"Shit, J.J., you're supposed to be asleep."
"How can I sleep with you guys talking about fucking. Even the bears are wide awake."
"Hey, Jeffrey...," Dallas began.
"No, I won't fuck you either," Jeffrey said, which got us all to rolling with laughter.
After the room got quiet again, we could hear Jeffrey's regular breathing. I could tell Dallas was still awake.
"I'm glad you won't fuck me, Marty," Dallas finally whispered.
"You are? Why?"
"Because that's how I know you love me. Rocky, and Randy, and all them, they fucked me and they'd be saying they loved me when they did it, but all they wanted was my ass. You say you love me and then you say you ain't gonna fuck me. That's how I know your love is real."
"So that means if somebody fucks you they don't love you?"
"So far."
"Even the Quat's grandson?"
Dallas smiled one of his rare, but beautiful, smiles. "If I saw him more that could change."
He cuddled up tight to me, his smooth skin, a little damp with sweat, sticking to mine.
"I'm glad I don't drink no more and I'm not a boy whore no more. Thanks, Marty, I love you."
That was the last thing he said before falling asleep. I was getting used to the idea of falling asleep with people's love. What a great treat it is to do that.
<Friday, February 10, Marty's apartment>
[CONNOR]
I don't know why I went to Marty's after the basketball game instead of crashing at Vince's. Okay, I guess I do know. Vince was having a keg there and some guys were coming over, mostly football players. Vince said Steve and Crawford might be there. I didn't have much use for those two, plus they were graduated. They could go find their own parties to go to is how I saw it.
I've crashed at Marty's before when I don't want to go drink. You know what you get at Marty's and you know what you don't get. No booze, no weed, no pills, no nothing. That's okay with me. I mean I love getting drunk and even wasted, but sometimes you just gotta say fuck it and hang out with a friend just to hang out. That's how it is at Marty's.
Sometimes Rich is there. He sleeps with Marty; anybody else gets a sleeping bag, an air mattress, and the floor. Sometimes that little twerp Jeffrey is there. He's eleven and a nice kid, I guess, but I got no use for kids that age. Still, being around him is better than being around that fucking Steve.
But tonight it was just me and Marty. Rich played in the game tonight. We lost 54-39. He's got practice in the morning, so he slept at home. Marty and Rich will sleep together tomorrow. I slept with Marty in his bed. We were naked, which is how he sleeps. It's kind of creepy to sleep naked with another guy, but I know Marty won't do nothing to me, even if he is gay. Sleeping nude is just how he is.
Okay, I won't say we don't do nothing at all. We jerk off together sometimes just to get rid of the cum built up in our balls. Better doing that together than somebody popping a bone in the middle of the night and fucking up the bed with a wet dream.
I don't mind jerking off with other guys. Me and Vince do it after a few beers. Hell, I've even gotten blow jobs from Marty back in middle school. But things are different now.
Tonight, me and Marty got undressed for bed. Both of us stood there sporting semi-boners and scratching our balls. As I fondled my junk, I said to Marty "I think I need to empty my balls before getting into bed."
Marty felt his own balls, smiled and said, "Good idea, Connor, mine feel full, too, so let's do it right now." So, we both sat on the edge of the bed, beating our meat, and chatting."
While we jerked off, Marty said the twerp wasn't sleeping here tonight. He was sleeping with his little brother. I don't have a brother, so I just can't figure out what it is with brothers doing sex together. Especially around here, since it's supposed to be the pervs from Kentburg who do that kind of shit.
We continued to chat while we jerked off. I talked about sleeping with chicks, he talked about him and Rich, we talked about all the gays at the school, and we talked about the crazy parties at Randy's back in the day. After we blew our wads and cleaned up, we pulled the covers over us.
I don't know why, but I wrapped my arm around Marty. If he'd been a girl, I would've felt up his boobs because that's where one of my hands was. I've learned now that guys like that kind of shit, too, and I rubbed his chest just because it was there. He didn't say anything about it, but he didn't stop me, either.
"Baseball starts in a couple of weeks," I said to him.
"Yeah. I am so ready."
Marty's got college scouts and everybody looking at him. Like from Pac-12 schools, which doesn't happen much at our little burg. Usually it's the little colleges and the junior colleges that come around here.
"Do you think we can do what Eric got us working to do?" I asked. I thought we could, but I had to hear it from Marty. I have to tell you this before you get his answer. There is nobody at Mayfield High School I admire more than Marty. He's gone from being a joke and a piece of crap drunk and stoner to an honor roll student and a stud athlete college coaches want in their school. Don't get me wrong, I admire Eric for what he's done for all of us with his friggen dream, and I admire Noah just because he's Noah. But those guys got more brains than just about anybody. Marty's got something anybody can have, and that's fucking guts and heart, which is not taking anything away from Eric and Noah, who are gutsy too. It just that Marty seems to totally run on guts and heart sometimes.
I guess Marty was thinking while I was thinking because he didn't say anything for a while. But he finally answered and said what I knew he would say. "There ain't no doubt that we can do it. We've worked our asses off since you and me were in the seventh grade. This is it. We're seniors and we're good and we got those awesome juniors and they're really good. This team's got tons of talent and more. Yeah, we can do it. We just have to actually do it, and not waste time talking about it."
I squeezed my arm around his warm body. "I love you, bro." I couldn't believe I just said that.
"You do?" I think he was just as surprised by what I said as I was.
"You're an awesome dude. You're my friend. Fuck, why shouldn't I love you?" My hand was still rubbing his chest—I couldn't stop doing it.
"I dunno. I love you, too, dude. Really, truly I do. But it's so fucking weird. Guys come in my bed, put their arm around me, and say they love me, even guys who aren't gay."
"Nothing weird about it," I said. "Nothing weird at all." I could have told him more, but I didn't want it to go to his head, plus, I really didn't know how to tell him how I fucking felt about him.
Then I felt something wet drip on me. "Are you crying?"
"A little." He wiped his cheek.
"Why?" I mean he's eighteen and an adult. Adults don't cry.
"Because I'm just so fucking happy to be alive and have so many great things happening to me. My life used to be fucked up so bad I didn't even want to live it. All I wanted to do was die. Now I got so many friends and so much love...why am I telling you this shit? You are usually not mister positive like you are tonight."
"I am the more I'm around you. You've taught me a lot of shit about living. If I was gay, you'd be in big trouble." I stopped rubbing and squeezed him tight. If I could find a girl like him I'd marry her in an instant.
"Good night, my friend," Marty said as he petted me from my hair, down my neck, and down my back to my bare ass.
"Good night, my friend," I said. Like I said, I'm not gay, but there is something special about me sleeping naked with a special friend and holding on to him because he is so fucking special and hoping he doesn't notice I have a raging boner that won't let me sleep.
<Thursday, March 15, Mayfield Baseball Field>
The Mayfield Mustangs were ready to play their first game of the spring. The weather was cold and gray, with the outdoor thermometer outside of Marty's physics classroom reading 41 degrees. While the thermometer was outdoors, it had a digital reader on the teacher's desk.
"This is totally fucked," Marty said to Rodney as the bell rang ending the last period of the day. "No way we should have to play when it's this cold."
"You're not the one who has to pitch in it," Rodney said.
"Hey, at least you're moving."
"At least it's not raining," Jerome said.
"If it was raining, we wouldn't have to play," Marty said. "Think about it."
Eric came up behind them and added the last bit of bad news. "I heard there might be some snow flurries by the end of the afternoon."
"Like I said," Marty told them, "this is totally fucked."
In spite of all the grousing, the Mustangs were eager to play. They were playing McQuade Island High School in a nonleague game and they would rather play them today in the cold than have to deal with having a makeup, or, as sometimes happens with nonleague games, having no makeup at all.
The Mayfield Weekly and the Centralia Journal both had the Mustangs favored to win the Seamount League. Everybody following high school baseball in the area was aware that this was a team from the old mold of Mayfield baseball teams: big, strong, fundamentally sound, with solid hitting and power pitchers, plus a big helping of the kind of confidence the best teams carried out onto the ball field.
Connor looked at the copy of the Journal sports page sitting in the locker room. It had been placed on a table outside the coaches' office. "This says we're supposed to finish in first place," Connor said.
"Well, fuck me raw," Vince said. "Connor knows how to read the paper. Who knew?"
"At least he knows it's good for more than wiping his ass, Vince," Jerome said.
"Yeah, well, I don't have to go looking in the new births section to see if I had a new kid born today," Connor told Rodney.
"Now, now, children," Marty said. "Let's take a deep breath so we can get our minds in kick ass mode."
"I thought that's what we were doing," Vince said. "Connor always plays better when he's pissed off at somebody."
"Connor is always pissed off at somebody," Jerome chuckled. "How could you tell the difference?"
Some of them noticed that Rodney, who was now in his uniform, had snuck away into the training room, carrying his I-Pod with him. Rodney was ready to start his pre-start routine. They knew that was their cue to start getting their own acts together.
Eric and Noah had meditated together the night before at Noah's house. Now they sat next to each other on one of the benches saying little. Eric was starting at second. Noah would be on the bench to begin the game. Noah knew that he and Gavin would be switching back and forth between JV and varsity. Since this was a non-league game, there was no limit to the number of players who could suit up, so he and Gavin were both suited up varsity.
Marty passed them, wearing a Mayfield baseball hoodie under his uniform top, which was legal. Eric and Noah and most of the other players had theirs on over their uniform tops to wear during warm-ups and on the bench, but would take them off when they went into the game. Marty didn't care what anybody thought, he didn't like freezing his ass off to look good. When Connor went by dressed the same way, a couple of the juniors, including Eric and Noah, got the message and changed to wearing their hoodies under their tops. The message was: if you're good, it's better to look smart than to try to look cool.
The game was cold, it was sloppy, there were snow flurries starting in the fifth inning, it stung to hit the ball, it was hard for the pitchers to stay warm, but it was just as cold for the Islanders as it was for the Mustangs. The Mustangs battled through four errors and through getting only five hits to beat the Islanders 5-3 to start their season with a win. Seven walks by Islander pitchers helped considerably. Coach Sanders used four pitchers to give everybody some game experience, especially since their jamboree had been rained out.
The Mustangs' next game was Saturday at Mountain Ridge Baptist. The year before they'd had some issues with a couple of players who made disparaging remarks about gays, but nothing was said by anybody this time. Maybe it was because it was a cold, windy, drizzly day and Eric had problems with his command. Five walks in his three innings of pitching hurt him as the Crusaders cashed in on three of them to take a 5-0 lead and go on to a fairly easy 8-2 win.
Tuesday saw them play another nonleague game. This one was against Bonneville at home. Like Mountain Ridge, Bonneville had a good team. They also had a mouthy team, which almost caused an incident in the top of the third inning.
The weather had warmed up some and was in the low fifties. The Mustangs had taken a quick 2-0 lead after two innings. When the Bonneville right fielder came to the plate for the first time, he casually knocked some dirt from his spikes with his bat. He stepped to the plate and said casually to Kevin, who was catching, "What's it like playing on a team that has a lot of fudge packers from the coach on down?"
The hitter had assumed three things incorrectly. First, he surmised that because Kevin was a solid, athletic catcher, there was no way he could be gay and he probably resented the gays on his team. Second, he thought he had directed his voice so the umpire, who hadn't taken his position yet, couldn't hear him. And finally, because of his first assumption, he assumed Kevin wouldn't retaliate.
He quickly found out he was wrong on assumption number two when the ump quickly started brushing off a perfectly clean home plate. "I'll pretend I didn't hear that remark, son, but if I hear anything like that from you again I'll throw you out of this game. You might want to get word to your teammates unless you want me to discuss this with your coach and have him tell them." The batter blushed, but said nothing. "Did you hear me?"
"Yeah, I heard you."
The umpire put his brush away and went back behind Kevin. Assumption number three went out the window when Kevin put down a sign that Scott thought he'd never see. He knew what it meant, however, and he knew Kevin wouldn't have flashed that sign unless it was absolutely necessary.
Scott's first pitch was well up and in, causing the batter to duck backwards and fall on his butt. Before Kevin threw the ball back to Scott, he looked down at the batter and shot down assumption number one. "You're welcome to join me and my boyfriend for some fun any time. That's my boyfriend out in right field. Cute, isn't he?"
Kevin threw the ball to the mound after which the umpire stepped out in front of home plate giving each team a warning. The warning essentially said that if anybody else gets knocked down the pitcher and the coach would be ejected. At the high school level an ejection carried a one game suspension as well.
The batter ended up striking out. The Mustangs found out quickly what the fuss at home plate was about, and the Bonneville Steelheads found out that the team rumored to be a group of pansy fags wasn't in the least intimidated by their bullshit.
"Don't flash that sign again," Coach Sanders told Kevin when he found out what had transpired on the field."
"I won't coach. I have a feeling I won't need to do it again the rest of the season." Word carried fast in the small world of high school baseball.
The Steelheads also found out that Scott could pitch and the Mustangs could hit and field. A four run fourth by the Mayfield nine took the remaining starch out of the Bonneville players as the Mustangs clobbered the Steelheads 8-1.
<Thursday, March 22 to Thursday, March 29>
Thursday saw the start of league play for the Mayfield Mustangs. They traveled to nearby Meadow Park where Rodney held the Lions in check for five innings, leaving with a 6-1 lead. Rich pitched the final two innings as Marty hit his first home run of the season, a three-run shot in the seventh, giving the Mustangs a 9-1 win.
Coach Sanders gave the team Friday off, but said there would be voluntary batting practice Saturday morning at eleven. The entire varsity "volunteered" to be there and half the JV showed up.
"It looks like the young kids have some things to learn," Marty said to Eric as they stood in the outfield shagging flies. He was referring to the JV team attendance. Generally, standing around chatting was not how things were done at a Mustang practice, but Coach Sanders relaxed his rules some for practices he deemed to be voluntary.
"I notice that all of the underclassmen who have been active on the Go to State team are here," Eric said.
"Then maybe Chandler, Korey, and them need to do some recruiting. They need to give the players not here the word on what's expected of a Mustang."
Just as Marty mentioned Chandler's name, the freshman zipped by chasing down a fly ball. He caught up to it and threw it back to the infield where Danny and Carl were standing behind a protective screen taking the throws.
"Did I hear my name mentioned?" Chandler asked. The fourteen year old was in his gangly, coltish stage of growth. His face was framed by the somewhat longish hair sticking out from his cap. A broad smile lit up his face.
"We were just mentioning how sexy you were," Marty told him.
"Well, you old guys could spend less time standing around chatting and more time chasing balls. Then you'd get rid of your fat bellies and look just as sexy as us freshmen."
A hard hit ground ball came their way and Eric ran to it, scooped it up, and threw it to the infield. "When are you and Korey going to be the official gay freshmen?" Marty asked. "You guys gotta keep the string going."
"Who says we're gay?" Chandler asked with an impish smile.
"You guys have every gaydar from here to Olympia pinging 24/7," Eric said as a fly ball sailed over their heads. None of the three moved as Drew ran along the fence to fetch the ball.
"You guys are just jealous because you haven't had my ass."
"I've had every other part of you over the years," Marty said.
Chandler yanked down his jock and the front of his sweats, exposing his cock and balls, a dark line of hair coating his pubic area. He looked at his genitals in mock shock. "I do have to say that the scars from your teeth marks have healed." He quickly covered himself.
"Is Chandler exposing himself again?" Mikey asked as he came over to join the group.
"At least I don't jerk off in the boys' room every day," Chandler said.
"True, you save it for English."
The conversation came to a halt when Coach Sanders yelled for them to break up their group. The coach might relax his rules on his volunteer days, but that didn't mean he ignored them entirely.
Eric and Marty did find the time to discuss with Chandler, Korey, and Mikey what Coach Sanders meant by "voluntary" practice. They said it might be a good idea if they passed that definition on to the four freshmen who didn't show up for the practice.
"A lot of us have worked real hard to bring Mustang baseball back to being the best," Eric said. "You young guys have to help us big bellied old guys by seeing that the tradition continues."
"We've got your back, old man," Chandler said. "I want us to be just as good you are when we get gray hairs like you have."
Marty looked over at Eric. "Maybe I should have bitten him a little bit harder."
Tuesday saw the Mustangs play the Chinook Totems at home. Eric was the starting pitcher and came up with a much better performance than he displayed in his first start. Even though the weather was damp and cold, there was no wind. He was vintage Eric, walking only one batter over six innings of work while giving up two runs. The Mustangs came up with key hits when they needed them and picked up a 5-2 win. They were proving to be very tough to score on with their combination of solid pitching and stellar defense.
Their opponent on Thursday was Clark Pass. Clark Pass had been the foils of the Mustangs since the boys started middle school and this game was no exception. Coach Sanders started Vince, but threw three other pitchers in order to give his second-line pitchers game experience. Nobody got into big trouble as the Mustangs hammered out a 21-2 win over the hapless Eagles. The game was their last one before Spring Break.
Spring Break would see a lot of the usual sexual fun among the Mayfield baseball players. It would see the usual Wednesday Nooner at the high school ball park. It would see two indoor practices as spring rains hit a half-hour after the last out in the Nooner and lasted until Sunday. The break was noteworthy not only for some things that did happen, but also for something that did not happen.
Next: Junior Year-Spring Break