Chapter 18 Trouble 3
Noah looked at me, unsure. That makes the two of us. I had no idea how good this guy was and I wasn't sure if I'd be any better.
"Oh. And you're friend has to do it left handed of course." Baldly added. "You specifically said he would."
My eyes widen as I tilted my head at Noah. Why is this getting worse. I'm not completely ambidextrous. I always like to try to go righty first in order to get comfortable first.
Noah gave me a weak smile. "Yes. Left handed. It's all the same for Jakey here."
The guys laughed, but not like it was funny. More like it was amusing that Noah could talk so much smack. Which was impressive, especially he's bragging for me and not even for himself.
"I'll even go first." Tyler put a helmet on and walked over to the 100mph cage. He went right on in since there wasn't a line. The rest of us followed to stand just outside the cage in order to watch. Noah stood next to the three and I stayed on the other side of him, still wary of the strangers.
"Stop looking so nervous. This guy doesn't even look any better than the one we saw in the 85 cage." Noah nudged me.
"I'm a pitcher." A voice said from the other side of Noah.
Noah grinned at me sheepishly. "Semantics. They're from the same team. Can they really be so different?"
A loud clank came from the cage. I looked just in time to see the ball hit the netting beyond the machine. "That's one." The baldy stated. Tyler had already put the token in and started on his twelve pitches. He was in the righty's box, looking lean and mean.
"Hit. Hit. Hit. Miss. Foul. Hit. Hit. Foul. Foul. Hit. Foul." The baldy called out every swing. Tyler's swing was nice and solid, with almost no holes or faults. Definitely not a normal high school player. He turned to us. "That's eleven out of twelve."
"You mean seven." Noah's eyes narrowed. "There was definitely only seven hits."
The baldy grinned down at us. "We agreed on connections. In order to foul tip, the bat has to connect with the ball."
"That's some bs. You're basically taking advantage of us! Don't you have any shame facing a couple of freshmen?" Noah finally started to show the worry and tension I've been feeling since the beginning.
"Don't talk shit, if you can't back it up." The baldy's smile looked evil, perfect for a villainous upperclassmen.
"But-" Noah tried to continue his complaints, but I nudged him. He turned to me raising an eyebrow. "You have no objections now?"
"No." I whispered. If fouls can count as connections then that's no problem at all. Foul tipping is easy. I practiced that all the time. Especially when I got bored of hitting the same speed over and over.
Noah studied my face, looking for a trace of assurance. He nodded once to himself. Then patted my helmet. "Good. Good. I knew I could count on you. Go win us some money so we can play some more."
I nodded back. I stepped into the empty cage and took a look on the outside. The four were taller, older, and no doubt probably better at baseball. But the batting cages aren't baseball. Not real baseball anyways. It's just me, my bat, and the machine. Nothing else is needed. No reliance on other players. No wide variety of pitches. No change ups headed my way.
I put my last token in and stepped into the lefty's box, feeling a faint smile growing on my lips.
Chapter 18 Trouble 3
Noah looked at me, unsure. That makes the two of us. I had no idea how good this guy was and I wasn't sure if I'd be any better.
"Oh. And you're friend has to do it left handed of course." Baldly added. "You specifically said he would."
My eyes widen as I tilted my head at Noah. Why is this getting worse. I'm not completely ambidextrous. I always like to try to go righty first in order to get comfortable first.
Noah gave me a weak smile. "Yes. Left handed. It's all the same for Jakey here."
The guys laughed, but not like it was funny. More like it was amusing that Noah could talk so much smack. Which was impressive, especially he's bragging for me and not even for himself.
"I'll even go first." Tyler put a helmet on and walked over to the 100mph cage. He went right on in since there wasn't a line. The rest of us followed to stand just outside the cage in order to watch. Noah stood next to the three and I stayed on the other side of him, still wary of the strangers.
"Stop looking so nervous. This guy doesn't even look any better than the one we saw in the 85 cage." Noah nudged me.
"I'm a pitcher." A voice said from the other side of Noah.
Noah grinned at me sheepishly. "Semantics. They're from the same team. Can they really be so different?"
A loud clank came from the cage. I looked just in time to see the ball hit the netting beyond the machine. "That's one." The baldy stated. Tyler had already put the token in and started on his twelve pitches. He was in the righty's box, looking lean and mean.
"Hit. Hit. Hit. Miss. Foul. Hit. Hit. Foul. Foul. Hit. Foul." The baldy called out every swing. Tyler's swing was nice and solid, with almost no holes or faults. Definitely not a normal high school player. He turned to us. "That's eleven out of twelve."
"You mean seven." Noah's eyes narrowed. "There was definitely only seven hits."
The baldy grinned down at us. "We agreed on connections. In order to foul tip, the bat has to connect with the ball."
"That's some bs. You're basically taking advantage of us! Don't you have any shame facing a couple of freshmen?" Noah finally started to show the worry and tension I've been feeling since the beginning.
"Don't talk shit, if you can't back it up." The baldy's smile looked evil, perfect for a villainous upperclassmen.
"But-" Noah tried to continue his complaints, but I nudged him. He turned to me raising an eyebrow. "You have no objections now?"
"No." I whispered. If fouls can count as connections then that's no problem at all. Foul tipping is easy. I practiced that all the time. Especially when I got bored of hitting the same speed over and over.
Noah studied my face, looking for a trace of assurance. He nodded once to himself. Then patted my helmet. "Good. Good. I knew I could count on you. Go win us some money so we can play some more."
I nodded back. I stepped into the empty cage and took a look on the outside. The four were taller, older, and no doubt probably better at baseball. But the batting cages aren't baseball. Not real baseball anyways. It's just me, my bat, and the machine. Nothing else is needed. No reliance on other players. No wide variety of pitches. No change ups headed my way.
I put my last token in and stepped into the lefty's box, feeling a faint smile growing on my lips.