Behind the Dish: The Jake Hargrove Story

[JPCaveman13]

It's been a while since I've done some writing and I've been getting the itch to do some again. Figured I'd work my way back into it by working through a dynasty story here.

The set-up is I'm doing 30-team control in franchise with OSFM rosters. I also added a few extra story characters into the roster, but I'm just following one person's journey through player-lock. Going through franchise seems easier to work with since the management AI is still weird with trades, signings, and whatnot and I'm also not pigeon-holed into developing a certain way. Plus, I can add in a steady cast of characters along the way.

So anyway, here goes.

Behind the Dish: The Jake Hargrove Story

“And doing the catching tonight, number 7, Jake Hargrove,” the announcer called amidst a thunderous ovation.

Jake trotted out from the dugout like he had normally done, acknowledging the ovation. Except this time was different. This would be the last time he would be making the trot out onto field as a player - and it was also coming in the absolute last game of the season.

As Jake was standing along the third base foul line waiting for the national anthem to play, his mind began to wander. In an instant, he was transported to where it all began for him.



“You have to wait, Jake,” Jonathan remarked. “You’re too young and small to be out here with all of us so you watch our bikes.” Jonathan let his bike tip over and fall to the ground as Jonas did the same.

“That’s not fair,” the five-year-old Jake spat. “You never let me do anything fun out there with you.” Jake kicked at the dirt, then trudged over to the small bleachers to wait. He wanted to play baseball out there like his brothers, who were three and six years older than Jake. However, he was the youngest kid there by at least two years.

The three brothers had arrived at their nearby park to play baseball with the other neighborhood kids. This was pretty much a summer ritual in the area: play baseball in the morning, go home and eat lunch, then swim at the community pool all afternoon. Soon, most of the other kids had arrived at the baseball field in the park.

“Hey, my brother got grounded so he’s stuck at home,” Mark, one of the older kids, blurted. “We need someone to be the catcher.” Jake’s head shot up at the sound of him possibly playing. “Hey, Jonathan, what about your brother?”

“He’s too small,” Jonathan answered quickly. “Mom will kill me if he gets hurt.”

“How about this,” Aiden interjected, “the pitcher will cover the plays at the plate. All your brother has to do is catch the pitches and throw it back. Someone’s trying to score, who ever the pitcher is, will cover that.”

Jonathan looked over at Jake, who had the biggest smile on his face, then turned to Jonas. “You have to cover the plate at all times, Jonas. Got it?” Jonas nodded. “Ok, Jake. You can play this once. Now if there might be a play at the plate, you get out of the way and let one of the bigger kids deal with it.”

With a huge grin, Jake nodded and squealed, “Yeah, but I can play right?”

Jonathan sighed and shook his head. “Fine, but stay out of the way.”

Like a kid on Christmas morning, Jake raced over to the plate and took his spot behind it. The other kids made their way out to the field and play began. The game continued on for most of the morning with little issue. Jake just enjoyed playing baseball with his older brothers and their friends. Finally, the “last inning” call came up.

“Two outs!” Jake called out. “Let’s get the last out!”

A newer kid to the neighborhood, Jimmy came up to the plate. He was about the same age as Jonathan but a fair bit fatter. He tapped his bat and then pointed it out towards the outfield, to laughter and jeers from everyone else.

Jonas tossed in the first pitch and Jimmy swung with all his might, connecting solidly with the ball. The outfielders gave chase, but it was over their heads. They did track it down finally and threw it in towards the infield.

Jimmy was rounding second as the throw got to the first relay. A quick toss to the next relay and Jimmy was bearing down on third. As the last relay went wide of third, Jimmy kept huffing along toward home. Without a second thought to who was at the plate, Esteban fired a strike to home. The throw easily beat Jimmy to the plate but the only thing stopping him from scoring was a tiny five-year-old kid, Jake.

Jake absorbed all of Jimmy’s fat and momentum and was sent tumbling backwards, head over heels over head for a second, third, and fourth time. Everyone looked on in stunned silence for a second as they couldn’t believe Jimmy just steamrolled Jake, but was quickly broken by Jonathan, Jonas, and a few others all yelling at Jimmy and about ready to tear him limb from limb.

“Hey,” Jake called, then shouted, “Hey!” Everyone paused for a second to look at him. “It’s ok.” Jake wiped at the blood trickling down his nose and mouth. “That fat f***er is out,” he grinned and held up his mitt to show the ball still firmly wedged inside.


Jake suppressed a chuckle to himself as he remembered getting his first taste of being a catcher and truly loving the position. Just watching jaws drop as he was so nonchalant after nearly getting obliterated and then being fully accepted into the group was his first awesome feeling in his short life.

Now here he was in his last game that he would play. He had known it was time to hang up his spikes and his tools of ignorance, even though his mind and heart were still yearning for the rush of the game. What was once a smattering of browns had now become littered with greys and joints were now more vocal after he moved over the hill. With a small groan and a couple cracks, he donned his mask and took his place behind the dish for his last game. Jake closed his eyes and took a deep breath, readying himself for what was to come.



Jake kept staring at the clock, urging with it, pleading with it to move faster. He still had five minutes left in his sixth-hour Freshman Biology class. But to him, it was still five minutes too many. He just wanted the bell to ring so he could rush off to the locker rooms and get ready for the first day of baseball camp and tryouts. He was excited to get out on the field and finally play some baseball.

If all went well during the tryouts, he’d be the sixth Hargrove to play baseball for Chandler High. Back in the early-to-mid 1980s, Jake’s father and uncles played baseball for the Wolves before each went onto play in college and then professionally. Recently, Jonathan had played baseball at Chandler, graduating three years prior, before moving onto Arizona State on a full scholarship. Now, Jonas was in the spotlight at Chandler as a senior starting pitcher. He also has begun fielding offers from colleges while also looking into MLB’s First-Year Player Draft.

“Can anyone tell us what’s going on with this?” Mrs. Fredrickson asked, motioning toward the diagram on the projector. “Jake.”

“Um…,” Jake stammered, “that would be...um...I don’t know.”

“Then perhaps you should be paying attention instead of going off into your own world,” she scowled to some giggles from his classmates.

Jake knowingly nodded. He brought his some of his attention back to class, even though he still had thoughts of baseball sitting in the back of his mind.

Moments later the bell rang, ending class. Jake gathered his textbook and lab workbook and stuffed them into his bag. Slinging it over his shoulder, Jake hurried out of the classroom. He worked his way through the crowd of students toward the parking lot by the locker rooms, where he met up with Jonas.

“Throw your bag in here and grab your gear,” Jonas remarked, opening the trunk to his car. The two switched their backpacks for their baseball gear bags. “You ready for this?”

“Absolutely,” Jake answered. “I’ve been waiting all day for this. I’m ready. Let’s do it.”

“Let’s get after it,” Jonas smirked as he smushed the bill of Jake’s hat down on his face.


Twenty minutes later, roughly 100 other kids between all four grades were out on the baseball field. Some were taking the time to start throwing to loosen up. Others took a few practice swings. A couple more were doing some stretching. A few of the seniors stood near the dugout talking and watching the field.

Jake saw that Jonas was with the group of seniors and walked over to him. “Hey,” he remarked, “What’s up?”

“So this is your little bro,” one of the seniors replied. Jonas nodded in agreement. The senior stuck out his hand. “Name’s Morrie. Just call me Mojo, though.” The two shook hands. “Catcher, right?” Jake nodded. “Ready to get drilled to death with 90-plus-mile fungoes?”

Jake’s eyes widen at the question. “Huh?”

“Yeah,” Mojo chuckled. “Catchers’ day one starts off with some blocking drills. Coach Frank will grab a bat and rocket liners in front of you. It’s a blast.”

Jake, less than thrilled, answered back, “That sounds so not fun at all.”

“You’ll be fine. Anyway, you already sign up on this for the coaches?” Mojo motioned to the clipboard beside him in the dugout. “Pretty basic. Name, year, position, bat, and throw.”

“Not yet.” Jake stepped over a gear bag and added his information to the list. As he finished, he looked it over. “Seems like there’s a lot of people who just want to pitch.”

“Yeah,” Mojo answered. “We’ll do a lot of BP stuff this week, but maybe three outta four won’t stay on as a pitcher.”

“Coach weeds out those kids pretty fast,” Jonas added. “Unless they got some stuff, they’ll be moved to the field or just cut.”


A few moments later, all the coaches came out and had everyone grab a seat out in the bleachers. He made the introductions first, starting with the coaches from the school and then introducing the four specialty coaches. These coaches were long-time friends and also part of the developmental staff in three different MLB organizations. They were splitting time between Spring Training and helping out at the highschool.

After the introductions, all the players were split into position groups - infield, outfield, and catchers - and each took off to their own area of the practice fields, with the catcher group headed off to a small corner of the outfield out by the warning track and wall. Only the returning varsity pitchers plus a couple of last year’s top JV pitchers were allowed to group off together so anyone else wanting to pitch had to choose a position in the field first.

“Ok,” Coach Jeff Frank started, “everyone have their own gear?” Some of the catchers nodded. “If you don’t, there’s a few sets in those bags behind you. Make sure it’s fitted correctly and if the mask or hard caps don’t fit right, wear your hat underneath or borrow someone else’s headgear that will fit you. Now gear up quickly and then we’ll go over this drill.”

Jake pulled out his gear from his bag. He strapped on his leg guards and then pulled on his chest protector. He flipped his hat around backwards and then added his hard cap. He did try the hockey style mask a few times, but it just wasn’t his style. He couldn’t get it to sit comfortably on his head when he would wear sunglasses, so he just stuck with the skull cap and mask. With everything on or in-hand, Jake rejoined the group next to Mojo.

“As Coach Johnson said earlier, I’m Coach Jeff Frank and I was catcher for the Giants organization. Coach Johnson and I both played ball together at ASU and for part of a season in AA in the Giants organization. Currently, I am the Giants developmental coach for catchers as well as a regional scout. Next to me is Coach Ed Knutson, the freshman manager. We’ll be putting you through these upcoming drills. First drill is blocking pitches in the dirt. This is one of, if not the most, important skill you need as a catcher. It can mean the difference in letting a runner advance ninety feet or not. You’ll be up against the wall there in your crouch.” Coach Frank dropped into a crouch. “You’ll drop to your knees and make yourself big so the ball shouldn’t get by you.” He shifted into the position to block a dirt pitch. “You’re going to try to deaden the ball as it hits you to keep it in front of you so it won’t stray far. Mojo, hop over and we’ll show them how it goes.”

Mojo nodded and took his position by the fence. Crouching down, he set himself to block the incoming ball. He nodded again to say he was ready.

With a sharp crack, Coach Frank ripped a hard liner at Mojo’s feet with the bat. Mojo effortlessly slid over and dropped to his knees. The ball skipped up, thumped into the chest protector, and then dribbled out about two feet in front of Mojo.

“And that is how it’s done,” Coach Frank remarked. “You want that ball to stay right in that area so you can keep the runners from advancing. You’ll get fifteen pitches and then rotate out. If you’re not in with us, you’re working on your footwork and body positioning for blocking pitches with Mojo. Now first two up over here, the rest with Mojo.”

As almost everyone shuffled over toward Mojo, Jake went the other way. He figured he might as well get this beating over with first and move onto the easier stuff. Jake pulled on his mask and dropped into a crouch.

“Let’s see you walk through one first,” Coach Frank instructed. “Make sure you’re all set.” Jake dropped into a position to block a pitch. “Ok, two things.” Coach Frank dropped into position beside Jake to demonstrate. “First, try and keep that bare hand covered behind your mitt or off to the side of your leg. Hanging it out in front is an easy way to break a finger or pop some ligaments or tendons. Second, puff up your chest more and get a little more forward lean. That’ll make you bigger and give it a better angle to get deadened into the ground in front of you. Otherwise, good.”

Jake nodded, “Thanks.” Jake did another couple of blocks as Coach Frank walked back over to the bat and bucket of balls roughly sixty feet away.

“Just like that,” Coach Frank cheered as Jake practiced once more. “Here’s a live one.” He cracked a shot at Jake.

Jake dropped into position as the ball took its bounce about five feet in front of Jake. It took a tough hop and slammed into Jake. Jake let out a soft groan as the laces made an imprint into his left bicep and a tingling numbness shot down his arm.

“Not bad,” Coach Frank called. “Tough hop but stay with it. Here’s another.”

With that, another ball rocketed at Jake. Jake took this hop off the inside of his thigh and the ricochet off the side of his tingling wrist. He flipped the ball to the side and reset for the next ball.

After the fifteen pitches were hit, Jake felt battered. He took three off nearly the same spot on his bicep and another off his mask that rang a bit. The others either bounced off his thighs, forearm, or chest protector. He was also glad to rotate over to work with Mojo because he thought he didn’t have to deal with live practice and getting pelted. The group ended up rotating through three times before moving onto the next part of the day, catching a few bullpen sessions for the returning varsity pitchers and a few others.

A few hours later, the first day of tryouts were finally called to a close. Jake felt relieved it was over. His bicep, marked with a more baseball-lace shaped bruises than he wanted, was killing him and his legs felt tired and worked from being in a crouch for most of the day. Even though he was beat, he thought he had a good showing. He dropped down onto the dugout bench to give his legs a moment of rest before making the small trek to the locker rooms.

Jake watched from the dugout as Mojo walked up to Coach Johnson and Coach Frank. Coach Dale Neff, a developmental coach for pitchers for the Brewers organization, joined right after. The four joked and talked for a few moments. Jake struggled to hear what was going on but he could tell enough that the coaches listened and valued what Mojo was saying about a few of the new pitchers. With a last joke, Mojo turned and walked off toward the dugout.

“So,” Mojo remarked, plunking down next to Jake in the dugout. “How’d you like your first taste of the next level of baseball?”

“Dude,” Jake answered. “I’m so tired and sore. All that catching and blocking wore out my legs. That blocking drill killed my arm.” Jake pulled up his sleeve to reveal the bruising.

“Nice ones. They’ll sting some but that’s part of why I wear this.” Mojo peeled off the compression sleeve on his right arm. Underneath were a couple red splotches and a jagged scar by his elbow. He stuffed it into his bag with all of his other gear.

“Wicked scar. How’d you get that?”

“Sophomore year. Some idiot from Highland bowled me over while trying to score. Got my arm all tangled up on the landing and it tore a ligament. Not the Tommy John one but a smaller one. I missed the last half of the season but was mostly ready to go by the time fall baseball rolled around.”

“That’s pretty nasty.”

“Yup. I got this one from your brother.” He turned his left hand to Jake, showing a smooth scar on the back of his thumb. “You remember in the playoffs last year when your bro jammed me up on the signals. This was the result. It snapped the tendon along the back of my thumb.”

“Dude, that one looks kind of cool. But I know that feeling. He’s thrown heat at me when I thought it was off-speed and breakers when I expected heat.” Jake chuckled and added, “makes you better, I guess.”

“Yup.” Mojo rose and motioned for Jake to follow. “Let’s go give Coach Johnson the report on the pitchers you caught.” Jake turned to Mojo with a confusing look. “Here’s a little advice. Pay attention to your pitchers. See what they throw, how they throw it, and where it all ends up. Afterwards, log it in a notebook or something. You’ll be able to look through it and build a profile for your pitcher so you’ll know what to call and when to call it as well as see the signs of whether he has it or not or when he’s laboring. Pretty much about 90% of being a catcher is mental. That’s from knowing your pitcher and then studying the scouting reports on the batters.”

Jake nodded, somewhat knowingly and somewhat still confused. “I think I see what you mean.”

“Good. Now come on. You’ve got three pitcher reports to do.”

Mojo walked over to the coaches with Jake. He made the quick introductions and then had Jake go over what all he saw from the pitchers he caught that day. Jake, slightly nervous and intimidated, spilled out what he saw from each pitcher.

“I saw a lot of the same things,” Coach Neff remarked. “That’s some good work picking up on that.” He gave Jake an approving pat on the back of his shoulder.

“That’s a good eye and mind on the pitchers and the same good work also goes with the drills we did,” Coach Frank added. “Stick close under his wing,” he motioned at Mojo, “and you’ll turn out just fine. Now get out of here and finish any of your homework and get some rest. We’ve got more fun tomorrow.”

Jake couldn’t help but smile. “Thanks. I will. Looking forward to it.” He shook each coach’s hand and then started walking off.

Mojo wrapped his arm around Jake’s neck and joked, “Now your training can begin, young padawan.”

[JPCaveman13]

The last day of tryouts had finally arrived as an early Saturday morning practice. The previous week had been full of fundamental drills and evaluations. Now was going to be a chance to put it all together in a last chance to make one of the teams.

“Alright,” Coach Johnson called out as he walked out onto the field, followed by the rest of the coaching staff, “bring it in and take a knee.” He paused as everyone made their way over. “Ok, this is the last chance to show all of us what you have as a ball player. We’ve gone through a bunch of fundamental drills all week, but now we want to see everyone put those into action by running some simulated games. You’re going to be divided up into different teams. The teams have no reasoning behind them. You’re just randomly assigned to a team. Just because you might be with a few players who were on varsity last year doesn’t mean that you’re in line to make the varsity squad. You’ll go with the coach who calls out your name. So let’s get this started now. Coach Frank, call out your team.”

Over the next few minutes, everyone was split off into eight different teams. Jake was called out to be on the team with Coach Frank along with two of his good friends; Vince, mostly an outfielder but he could play in the infield, and Ross, a pitcher. It also had a couple returning lettermen, some returning JV members, and a couple others hoping their luck was better this tryout. However, Jonas and Mojo were together on a different team.

After a brief moment to set up the roster, each team paired off and took to a field for the simulated games. In these games, each team would just bat through the order before switching to the field. A pitcher would go through the order once before handing it off to next pitcher in line. After running through the order three times, the teams would rotate around to match up with another squad.


In the fifth simulated game, Jake looked across the field and saw that they were matched up against the team with his brother. Outside of the random pick-up games when they were younger, Jake hadn’t really faced his brother in a live match-up and he was looking forward to it. He’d done some batting practice off of Jonas in the cage at home and once during these tryouts, but that’s an entirely different thing.

“Any advice for hitting against your brother,” Adam, another freshman hopeful, asked.

“Yeah,” Jake answered. “He’s got some good velocity on his fastball. His slider is pretty good too. It’s one of those that moves well, like if it looks like a strike, it’ll break out of the zone. He also has this split-change pitch. Looks like a fastball out of his hand, but then it falls out of the zone. Good luck up there.”

“Thanks,” Adam replied, nodding.

Jake advice didn’t help Adam much as he went down swinging on a slider out of the zone. It didn’t help the next three either as they also went down on strikes. Vince did manage to get a piece of an outside fastball and looped it over the head of the first baseman. His speed, combined with a poor throw from the right field corner, managed to get him into third.

Jake strode up to the plate to with Vince now on third. Jake dug into the right-handed box to face his lefty brother.

“Dun dun dun, bro versus bro,” Mojo quipped in a mocking narrator voice. “This oughta be good.”

“Yup,” Jake added as he set to hit.

Jonas nodded and then flashed the barest little grin as he set to pitch. Jonas fired a hard fastball up underneath Jake’s elbows. Jake bailed out, dropping to the dirt.

“What the,” Jake trailed off, interrupted by laughter from Mojo and Jonas. He just shook his head and dusted himself off. “Y’all are crazy.”

“Yeah,” Mojo laughed, “just a little late birthday present from us.”

Jake shook his head and dug back into the box. He readied for the next pitch, hoping it wasn’t coming at him again. The next pitch he got was a slider breaking down and in at knee level. Jake swung hard, but missed it entirely. The split-change was next and it dipped right under Jake’s swinging bat.

“Oh, almost had it,” Mojo mocked, mimicking the commercial. “Gotta be quicker than that.”

“Oh, shut up,” Jake jokingly fired back as he dug back into the box again.

Jake readied for the next pitch. He figured that he would either get the split-change low and outside again or a fastball up and in. He got neither as Jonas slung a beautiful back-foot slider to Jake. Jake yanked his back foot out of the way, taking it for ball two.

Jake readied for the 2-2 pitch. He knew his brother’s stuff and tried to look for a little cue to see what might be coming this time instead of guessing.

Nothing. No clue.

Jonas fired in the 2-2 pitch. It was a fastball on the outside edge and Jake flailed at it. He managed to just get a piece of it with the end of his bat, sending the ball zipping by Mojo’s ear and sending stinging vibrations through his hands and forearms.

“That sounded like it stung,” Mojo remarked. “Probably be all purple at the base of your thumbs tomorrow.”

“Oh yeah,” Jake answered while readjusting his batting gloves. “That did not feel good at all.”

Jake dug back in once again for another 2-2 pitch. His hands still tingled a bit as Jonas set for the delivery. Jonas fired in another fastball, this one on the inside black. Jake took a good cut at it. This time he made solid contact with the stomach-high inside fastball and it shot straight out into the air.

“Oooh,” Mojo muttered as he flipped his mask to the side. “So close. I don’t think that’s gonna make it outta here.” He tracked the ball as it flew upwards. “Yeah, definitely not gonna make it. Maybe it’ll be deep enough to score the run.” Mojo settled down and waited on the ball, standing a mere couple feet in front of home plate. “Whelp, maybe not.” The ball plunked down into Mojo’s mitt. “Nice try, kid. Thanks for playing,” Mojo joked as Jake groaned at his pop up.

Jonas had his way with the rest of the batters during his turn on the mound. He struck out another four, got a couple of weak grounders, and a pair of pop-ups from the others. This session really showed why there was interest in Jonas from Division I and pro scouts.

After they switched sides, Jake had Ross on the hill for this run-through of the order. Ross was fairly typical in his approach as he had usual assortment of pitches: a couple fastballs, a changeup, and a slider. He had been working on a curve as well lately. It wasn’t the best, but it was passable for a high schooler.

Jake worked Ross through the first four batters with minimal trouble. He got one to strike out, another to fly out to shallow left field, and the other two to ground to short and third, with an errant throw from third allowing for the runner to reach second.

“Ahh, we meet again,” Jake chided in a horrible movie impression. “This time you’re going down.”

“Yeah, not gonna happen,” Mojo fired back.

Jake dropped into his crouch. He thought about having Ross give Mojo a brush-back pitch just to be a little petty for having been brushed back himself. He decided against it and signalled for a two-seam fastball amongst five other bluffed signals. He set his target on the inside half. Ross delivered a decent pitch and Mojo took it for a called strike.

“Nice pitch there,” Mojo mentioned.

Jake grumbled his reply and then called for the same two-seamer, just on the outside this time. Ross fired another good pitch in, but this tailed just off the plate for the first ball. The 1-1 pitch was another fastball, this a four-seam, on the outside edge that Mojo took again for the second strike. For the 1-2 pitch, Jake called for a four-seamer up and in, just as he had received during his at bat. Ross fired a fastball up and underneath Mojo’s hands.

Mojo raised his arms as he slid back from the pitch. “Now you went for the petty payback,” he laughed. “Nice, but it’ll bite you in the *** though.”

“Yeah, sure,” Jake mocked. “I’m so scared.”

With the count now 2-2, Jake decided to call for the back-foot slider. He set his target and Ross fired in the slider. It bent in towards Mojo’s knees and Jake was anticipating the strikeout.

Mojo whipped the bat through the zone and with a loud, solid clang sent the ball rocketing into the air. Jake rose from his crouch and could only watch.

“That’s a beaut,” Mojo remarked as neither the center or right fielder bothered to give chase. He tossed his bat aside and began his homerun trot. The homerun cleared both fences and nestled itself in a bush across the street. “Better luck next time, kid,” he answered as he stepped on home plate. He gave Jake a playful thump in the chest and then walked off, dishing out some high-fives to teammates.


As the final day of tryouts wound down, Jake felt good about his performance that day. His day at the plate was decent. He drew a couple walks and had some solid hits, including a homerun to left. Behind the plate went just as well. He didn’t allow a pitch to get by him, even with some of the more wild pitchers missing pretty badly. His favorite moment was gunning down DeSean Montgomery on an attempt to steal third. DeSean was a stand-out receiver and returner on the football team, earning All-State honors and scholarship offers to a few Division I schools, and patrolled centerfield. He had taken second easily during the previous at bat but Jake got off a laser throw to third to get DeSean by a step.

The coaches had everyone hang out around the locker room as they were putting the last touches on each roster. They were also going to sit down with everyone to let them know if they made one of the teams this season and give them feedback as to why or why not.

Jake had been waiting for about twenty minutes by the time his name was called to talk to the coach. He walked into the locker room office and was directed to a desk in the corner. Behind it was Coach Knutson and Coach Frank was beside him.

“Take a seat, Jake,” Coach Knutson instructed, while gesturing to the chair. “So, how do you think you did?”

“I think I did ok,” Jake answered. “I know I wasn’t the best one out there but it was a good experience. There’s probably more than a few things I need to work on though.”

“That’s what we thought,” Coach Knutson agreed. “You worked hard out there. You put a lot of effort into working through the drills.” Coach Knutson paused to let Coach Frank add his opinion.

“I like the effort you gave during a lot of the catcher drills,” Coach Frank added. “Speaking from experience, those drills aren’t fun at all and they seem to just take everything out of you. I was impressed with your work ethic and the fact that you sought out extra guidance and learned a few new things - you know, those small little intangible things that make you that much better overall, like studying and tracking your pitchers - from more veteran players.”

“Thanks, Coach,” Jake responded, flustered from the praise.

“Welcome,” both coaches replied almost in unison.

“That’s why this was a tough decision,” Coach Knutson continued. “You have a lot of talent and your skill shows. It would be a waste of that to just let you sit on the bench for pretty much all of the season.”

Jake’s heart skipped a beat. He couldn’t believe that they were saying they were going to cut him.

“We felt that even though you have an excellent skill set, there just isn’t room for you on the varsity squad,” Coach Knutson said, dropping the hammer on the topic. “Mojo has the starting role locked down tight. So to get the most out of your development, we’re just going to keep you on the freshman squad. You’ll be the everyday starter at that level instead of seeing a small platooning role on JV and maybe a handful of innings on varsity.”

Jake let out a sigh of relief. “I thought you were cutting me there for a moment.” Jake let out another sigh getting both coaches to chuckle.

“No,” Coach Frank interjected between chuckles. “You did a great job. Keep working hard and learning as much as you can.”

Jake nodded and then he was dismissed from the office. He was a little sad that he was only on the freshman team, but he understood that it was more for his development. He’d still be out of the field and could learn from the coaches and from Mojo.

[duh1call3dston3s]

WHOA MAN BLAST FROM THE PAST! I remember reading your story YEARS ago on the playstation.com forums. Glad to see your still around!

[TTM STAB]

This is really cool, I'm following!

[IBMA]

Anyone who takes this much time into writing that much on this website gets a definite follow from me!

[JPCaveman13]

The last day of tryouts had finally arrived as an early Saturday morning practice. The previous week had been full of fundamental drills and evaluations. Now was going to be a chance to put it all together in a last chance to make one of the teams.

“Alright,” Coach Johnson called out as he walked out onto the field, followed by the rest of the coaching staff, “bring it in and take a knee.” He paused as everyone made their way over. “Ok, this is the last chance to show all of us what you have as a ball player. We’ve gone through a bunch of fundamental drills all week, but now we want to see everyone put those into action by running some simulated games. You’re going to be divided up into different teams. The teams have no reasoning behind them. You’re just randomly assigned to a team. Just because you might be with a few players who were on varsity last year doesn’t mean that you’re in line to make the varsity squad. You’ll go with the coach who calls out your name. So let’s get this started now. Coach Frank, call out your team.”

Over the next few minutes, everyone was split off into eight different teams. Jake was called out to be on the team with Coach Frank along with two of his good friends; Vince, mostly an outfielder but he could play in the infield, and Ross, a pitcher. It also had a couple returning lettermen, some returning JV members, and a couple others hoping their luck was better this tryout. However, Jonas and Mojo were together on a different team.

After a brief moment to set up the roster, each team paired off and took to a field for the simulated games. In these games, each team would just bat through the order before switching to the field. A pitcher would go through the order once before handing it off to next pitcher in line. After running through the order three times, the teams would rotate around to match up with another squad.


In the fifth simulated game, Jake looked across the field and saw that they were matched up against the team with his brother. Outside of the random pick-up games when they were younger, Jake hadn’t really faced his brother in a live match-up and he was looking forward to it. He’d done some batting practice off of Jonas in the cage at home and once during these tryouts, but that’s an entirely different thing.

“Any advice for hitting against your brother,” Adam, another freshman hopeful, asked.

“Yeah,” Jake answered. “He’s got some good velocity on his fastball. His slider is pretty good too. It’s one of those that moves well, like if it looks like a strike, it’ll break out of the zone. He also has this split-change pitch. Looks like a fastball out of his hand, but then it falls out of the zone. Good luck up there.”

“Thanks,” Adam replied, nodding.

Jake's advice didn’t help Adam much as he went down swinging on a slider out of the zone. It didn’t help the next three either as they also went down on strikes. Vince did manage to get a piece of an outside fastball and looped it over the head of the first baseman. His speed, combined with a poor throw from the right field corner, managed to get him into third.

Jake strode up to the plate with Vince now on third. Jake dug into the right-handed box to face his lefty brother.

“Dun dun dun, bro versus bro,” Mojo quipped in a mocking narrator voice. “This oughta be good.”

“Yup,” Jake added as he set to hit.

Jonas nodded and then flashed the barest little grin as he set to pitch. Jonas fired a hard fastball up underneath Jake’s elbows. Jake bailed out, dropping to the dirt.

“What the,” Jake trailed off, interrupted by laughter from Mojo and Jonas. He just shook his head and dusted himself off. “Y’all are crazy.”

“Yeah,” Mojo laughed, “just a little late birthday present from us.”

Jake shook his head and dug back into the box. He readied for the next pitch, hoping it wasn’t coming at him again. The next pitch he got was a slider breaking down and in at knee level. Jake swung hard, but missed it entirely. The split-change was next and it dipped right under Jake’s swinging bat.

“Oh, almost had it,” Mojo mocked, mimicking the commercial. “Gotta be quicker than that.”

“Oh, shut up,” Jake jokingly fired back as he dug back into the box again.

Jake readied for the next pitch. He figured that he would either get the split-change low and outside again or a fastball up and in. He got neither as Jonas slung a beautiful back-foot slider to Jake. Jake yanked his back foot out of the way, taking it for ball two.

Jake readied for the 2-2 pitch. He knew his brother’s stuff and tried to look for a little cue to see what might be coming this time instead of guessing.

Nothing. No clue.

Jonas fired in the 2-2 pitch. It was a fastball on the outside edge and Jake flailed at it. He managed to just get a piece of it with the end of his bat, sending the ball zipping by Mojo’s ear and sending stinging vibrations through his hands and forearms.

“That sounded like it stung,” Mojo remarked. “Probably be all purple at the base of your thumbs tomorrow.”

“Oh yeah,” Jake answered while readjusting his batting gloves. “That did not feel good at all.”

Jake dug back in once again for another 2-2 pitch. His hands still tingled a bit as Jonas set for the delivery. Jonas fired in another fastball, this one on the inside black. Jake took a good cut at it. This time he made solid contact with the stomach-high inside fastball and it shot straight out into the air.

“Oooh,” Mojo muttered as he flipped his mask to the side. “So close. I don’t think that’s gonna make it outta here.” He tracked the ball as it flew upwards. “Yeah, definitely not gonna make it. Maybe it’ll be deep enough to score the run.” Mojo settled down and waited on the ball, standing a mere couple feet in front of home plate. “Whelp, maybe not.” The ball plunked down into Mojo’s mitt. “Nice try, kid. Thanks for playing,” Mojo joked as Jake groaned at his pop up.

Jonas had his way with the rest of the batters during his turn on the mound. He struck out another four, got a couple of weak grounders, and a pair of pop-ups from the others. This session really showed why there was interest in Jonas from Division I and pro scouts.

After they switched sides, Jake had Ross on the hill for this run-through of the order. Ross was fairly typical in his approach as he had usual assortment of pitches: a couple fastballs, a changeup, and a slider. He had been working on a curve as well lately. It wasn’t the best, but it was passable for a high schooler.

Jake worked Ross through the first four batters with minimal trouble. He got one to strike out, another to fly out to shallow left field, and the other two to ground to short and third, with an errant throw from third allowing for the runner to reach second.

“Ahh, we meet again,” Jake chided in a horrible movie impression. “This time you’re going down.”

“Yeah, not gonna happen,” Mojo fired back.

Jake dropped into his crouch. He thought about having Ross give Mojo a brush-back pitch just to be a little petty for having been brushed back himself. He decided against it and signalled for a two-seam fastball amongst five other bluffed signals. He set his target on the inside half. Ross delivered a decent pitch and Mojo took it for a called strike.

“Nice pitch there,” Mojo mentioned.

Jake grumbled his reply and then called for the same two-seamer, just on the outside this time. Ross fired another good pitch in, but this tailed just off the plate for the first ball. The 1-1 pitch was another fastball, this a four-seam, on the outside edge that Mojo took again for the second strike. For the 1-2 pitch, Jake called for a four-seamer up and in, just as he had received during his at bat. Ross fired a fastball up and underneath Mojo’s hands.

Mojo raised his arms as he slid back from the pitch. “Now you went for the petty payback,” he laughed. “Nice, but it’ll bite you in the a** though.”

“Yeah, sure,” Jake mocked. “I’m so scared.”

With the count now 2-2, Jake decided to call for the back-foot slider. He set his target and Ross fired in the slider. It bent in towards Mojo’s knees and Jake was anticipating the strikeout.

Mojo whipped the bat through the zone and with a loud, solid clang sent the ball rocketing into the air. Jake rose from his crouch and could only watch.

“That’s a beaut,” Mojo remarked as neither the center or right fielder bothered to give chase. He tossed his bat aside and began his homerun trot. The homerun cleared both fences and nestled itself in a bush across the street. “Better luck next time, kid,” he answered as he stepped on home plate. He gave Jake a playful thump in the chest and then walked off, dishing out some high-fives to teammates.


As the final day of tryouts wound down, Jake felt good about his performance that day. His day at the plate was decent. He drew a couple walks and had some solid hits, including a homerun to left. Behind the plate went just as well. He didn’t allow a pitch to get by him, even with some of the more wild pitchers missing pretty badly. His favorite moment was gunning down DeSean Montgomery on an attempt to steal third. DeSean was a stand-out receiver and returner on the football team, earning All-State honors and scholarship offers to a few Division I schools, and patrolled centerfield. He had taken second easily during the previous at bat but Jake got off a laser throw to third to get DeSean by a step.

The coaches had everyone hang out around the locker room as they were putting the last touches on each roster. They were also going to sit down with everyone to let them know if they made one of the teams this season and give them feedback as to why or why not.

Jake had been waiting for about twenty minutes by the time his name was called to talk to the coach. He walked into the locker room office and was directed to a desk in the corner. Behind it was Coach Knutson and Coach Frank was beside him.

“Take a seat, Jake,” Coach Knutson instructed, while gesturing to the chair. “So, how do you think you did?”

“I think I did ok,” Jake answered. “I know I wasn’t the best one out there but it was a good experience. There’s probably more than a few things I need to work on though.”

“That’s what we thought,” Coach Knutson agreed. “You worked hard out there. You put a lot of effort into working through the drills.” Coach Knutson paused to let Coach Frank add his opinion.

“I like the effort you gave during a lot of the catcher drills,” Coach Frank added. “Speaking from experience, those drills aren’t fun at all and they seem to just take everything out of you. I was impressed with your work ethic and the fact that you sought out extra guidance and learned a few new things - you know, those small little intangible things that make you that much better overall, like studying and tracking your pitchers - from more veteran players.”

“Thanks, Coach,” Jake responded, flustered from the praise.

“Welcome,” both coaches replied almost in unison.

“That’s why this was a tough decision,” Coach Knutson continued. “You have a lot of talent and your skill shows. It would be a waste of that to just let you sit on the bench for pretty much all of the season.”

Jake’s heart skipped a beat. He couldn’t believe that they were saying they were going to cut him.

“We felt that even though you have an excellent skill set, there just isn’t room for you on the varsity squad,” Coach Knutson said, dropping the hammer on the topic. “Mojo has the starting role locked down tight. So to get the most out of your development, we’re just going to keep you on the freshman squad. You’ll be the everyday starter at that level instead of seeing a small platooning role on JV and maybe a handful of innings on varsity.”

Jake let out a sigh of relief. “I thought you were cutting me there for a moment.” Jake let out another sigh getting both coaches to chuckle.

“No,” Coach Frank interjected between chuckles. “You did a great job. Keep working hard and learning as much as you can.”

Jake nodded and then he was dismissed from the office. He was a little sad that he was only on the freshman team, but he understood that it was more for his development. He’d still be out of the field and could learn from the coaches and from Mojo.



Freshman season flew by for Jake. Granted, there were only twenty games on the season - compared to thirty-four at the varsity level, not including playoffs. He started every game behind the plate for the freshman team. He ended up slashing .397/.459/.795 (29-for-73) on the season with six homers and twenty-nine RBIs. Defensively, Jake went 13-for-18 when runners tried to steal on him. When it came to corralling pitches, Jake wasn’t too bad. Some pitchers had better control - like Ross, Nate Nicholson, and Jae Cho - and it was an easier day. However, it was an entirely different story when Rajit Kapoor and Noah Cooley took the hill. With those two, Jake had to be ready for anything. Both had plus-velocity for their age and some good movement, but the control was lacking “just a wee bit,” as Jake liked to put it.

In the end, the freshman team performed decently. They finished the season going 13-7. Even though both freshman and JV seasons had ended, everyone was encouraged to stick around and go through various drills with the varsity players leading up to the annual Senior Day fundraiser game between the freshman and JV teams, where the seniors coach the teams. While they weren’t actually playing at the varsity level, hanging around helped the team with extra bodies for catching bullpen sessions, tossing live or soft-toss batting practice, being runners for fielding drills, or whatever else they could do. Most players did stick around, while a couple others didn’t bother with it since spring football started or just to focus on schoolwork. Jake did stick around for three reasons: one, he wanted to improve his baseball skills; two, he loved that game and had fun out there; and three, and probably his most important reason, he would rather ride home with Jonas than trying to take the bus.

While freshman year had a lot of highlights, like a pair of walk-off homers - one a grand slam against Red Mountain and the two-run shot against the cross-town rival Hamilton - and catching a pair of no-hitters - one from Ross and, oddly, the second was Noah’s, a 6-5 win that saw him walk ten and hit three batters. However, the biggest highlight was yet to come.

“So, are you gonna take the draft offer or just take a scholarship offer?” Jake asked as he and Mojo were tearing down after their last bullpen session of the day.

“I’m not 100% sure just yet,” Mojo answered. “I’ve heard that I could go somewhere between the 15-to-20th-round range. That’s not too bad, but it’s going up against a full ride to Washington.”

“What made you pick them over the offers to like ASU or U of A?”

“Well, I was born up there. I could play right away instead of waiting for at least a year, probably two or three really at U of A. ASU never impressed me at all.”

“That works, man. Maybe you’ll get a good deal out of the draft or Washington sets you up right.”

Mojo nodded. “Yeah. Maybe. Let’s get out of here though.”

Mojo handed Jake the five-gallon bucket of baseballs while he grabbed the spike cleaners and rake. They tossed those into the small storage closet attached to the dugout before Coach Johnson gave his post-practice talk all about the seniors and their final regular season game the next day, along with the annual tradition of the seniors coaching the Freshman vs JV game, before dismissing everyone.

Jake walked into the locker room with Mojo and Jonas, both barely containing grins. As Jake turned toward his locker, the jerseys had been hung on the outside of the locker in preparation for the games the next day. He almost missed what was happening, but paused, “Wait a sec.” He was expecting to see just the solid blue pullover jersey the freshman wore.

“Jake!” Coach Johnson bellowed from the door to his office. “Come into my office here for a moment.”

“Sure thing, Coach,” Jake acknowledged, still trying to wrap his head around what was happening.

Coach Johnson motioned for Jake to take the seat across from him. As Jake sat down, Coach Johnson began, “I see you look a little confused so I’ll just get right to it. Jake, I’m calling you up to the varsity level for Senior Day. You’ve worked hard this season and it’s your reward for all the effort you’ve put in. I’m planning on letting you start tomorrow to catch your brother for his Senior Day game. Now before you go out and celebrate too much, it’s Senior Day. So you’re only going to get about an inning of playing time before Mojo takes over behind the plate.” Jake, now grinning from ear-to-ear, could barely form his response before Coach Johnson cut in, “Now get out of here and go have fun.”

Jake nodded and left the office. His face still had the sheepish ear-to-ear grin as he turned out of the office to see Mojo and Jonas bust out laughing.

“Congrats, bro,” Jonas remarked, pulling Jake into a headlock hug.

“Good work, kid. Congrats.” Mojo added, messing up Jake’s hair.



The next day flew by for Jake. Once his classes finished, he headed out to the field to find out where he would be stationed during the Freshman vs JV game since he wasn’t going to be playing in it now. He checked the list to see that he was set up at the raffle booth. There he was able to keep an eye out on the game while he was selling the tickets.

The game went by smoothly. Ross shut down the JV squad in the first five innings while Vince gave the freshman a 2-0 lead on a two-run triple to right-center and then scored when Johnathon Tate, the freshman first basemen, launched a bomb into the parking lot behind the right field fence.

When Ross was lifted for the bullpen in the sixth inning, the wheels fell off for the freshman squad. Rajit and Jorge Diaz, both with sub-3.00 ERAs for the season, combined to allow sixteen JV batters to the plate with eleven of them crossing the plate. Jae closed the seventh allowing two more runs for a 13-4 JV win.

After about an hour of a break, the varsity game was ready to begin against their cross-town rival Basha. Jake, Jonas, and Mojo were in the bullpen behind the dugout as Jonas went through his warmups.

With the rounding pop of Jake’s mitt, Mojo remarked, “Your bro’s gonna be dealing it tonight.”

“Definitely,” Jake answered as he readied for the next pitch. “I’ve never seen his stuff this electric before.” Another fastball popped his mitt. “I almost feel bad for them.”

Jonas motioned that it was his last warmup pitch. Jake lifted his mask and called out, “Great stuff, bro.”

“Indeed it is,” a voice behind Jake and Mojo called.

The two spun around to see a man in his sixties wearing a navy polo with a white-script “A” and a radar gun in hand. Behind him was a younger man with the clipboard.

“I’m Henry Ashford,” he introduced, “with the Braves scouting department. He looks good today. Got him in around 92-to-94 on the gun.”

“Thanks,” both Jake and Mojo reply.

“I’m surprised you’re not the one catching him this time,” he remarked, gesturing to Mojo. “You get injured while I was at another game this week?”

Mojo chuckled, “No, I’m fine. This here is Jonas’s little brother and my protégé, Jake. Little gift for Senior Day is he gets the first inning so the brothers can play on the same team for once.”

“Nice to meet you, Jake. If you’re anything like your brothers and Mojo here, I’ll be keeping an eye on you too over the next couple years.” Henry nods and then walks off.

“How about that,” Mojo chided. “Barely fresh meat and already got a scout’s attention.” Jake chuckled. “Now, before your head swells up too much, remember the gameplan for the inning. Look over at me for the defensive signals if someone gets on base. Otherwise, you get to call what you want for pitches.”

With all the warmups and pregame festivities for the seniors, the game is finally ready to begin. Everyone looked on in the dugout as Coach Johnson stood at the entrance.

“Alright everyone,” Coach Johnson started. “Seniors, it’s your last regular-season game here. Enjoy it. Have fun. Now let’s go out there and leave it all behind. Bring it in!” Everyone piles in with a hand in the middle. “Wolves on three! One, two, THREE!”

“WOLVES!”

Everyone rushed out onto the field. Jake took his spot behind the plate and readied for Jonas to toss his warmups. Jonas fired in eight fastballs at about 80% and on the last one, Jake fired a dead-eyed strike to second.

Jake then trotted up to the mound. He stood there for a second, taking it in. Here he was, finally on the same team as his brother. The two looked out over the dugout to see their parents, the eldest brother Johnathon, and their two sisters - one older and one younger than the two of them - sitting together. Their mother raised the camera and snapped off a few pictures.

“Let’s get this,” Jonas spoke, finally breaking the silence.

“No doubt,” Jake answered, bringing up a fist. With a fist-bump, Jake returned to his spot behind the plate.

Jake dropped into his crouch. He snuck a glance at the batter stepping into the right-hand batter’s box. What to call first? he thought. Jake dropped one finger down and shifted it to his left thigh. Jonas nodded and set.

Jake shifted as Jonas began his windup. Jonas fired in the four-seamer across the inside black. Jake heard a faint ting, followed by a muffled thump, and then saw white with little dancing stars as he fell back.

“Foul!” bellowed the umpire, quickly followed by, “Time!”

Jake blinked a few times as he sat there, mask twisted on his face and legs bent underneath him.

“You ok son?” the umpire asked. Jake adjusted his mask. “Just take a moment.”

Jake stood up and pulled off his mask to wipe at his eyes. When he looked up, Mojo had stepped out to check on him.

“I’m good.” Jake remarked.

“I know,” Mojo answered. “That ring’s for you. Says, ‘Welcome to varsity.’”

Jake chuckled. “Thanks.”

Mojo thumped Jake on the chest and returned to the dugout. Jake fixed his mask and then settled back behind the plate.

Ok. Oh and one. Let’s see. Jake dropped one finger again and tilted it to the left. Jonas nodded and set. He fired another strike across the inside black. This one hit the pocket square with a resounding pop.

“Ball,” muttered the umpire. Jake thought to say something but instead just tossed it back to Jonas.

Ok. Tight zone from the ump. What’s next? We went north-south so let’s move east-west. Jake dropped three fingers for Jonas’s split-change and shifted them to his right thigh. Jonas nodded and set.

Jonas whipped this pitch to the outside black and to the bottom of the zone. Jake heard another faint ting and then the kick of dirt, before a sharp pain shooting up high on the inside of his thigh. He let out a grunt and doubled over in his crouch.

“Take a moment, son,” the umpire said with a soothing voice. “Those ones hurt.”

Jake took a deep breath and replied, “I’m ok. Just on the sidewalk, not the middle of Main Street.” The umpire gave Jake another moment before motioning the batter back into the box. “Let’s go! Count is one ball, two strikes!”

Almost two balls with one strike! Jake took a quick breath to compose himself. Ok, one and two. Let’s go back to east-west. Jake dropped two fingers and shifted them to the left for the back-foot slider. Jonas nodded and set again.

Jake watched as the slider came in fast, then cut sharply toward the hitter’s back foot. He saw the bat flash at the top of his vision, but he was already shifting to corral the pitch. It kicked up dirt as it hopped right over Jake’s glove and into the bottom of his chest protector. He quickly scooped it up and slapped his glove across the hitter’s leg before he could drop his bat and run.

The umpire pumped a fist marking the first out.

Jake rose and tossed the ball back to Jonas. “One down!” he called out. “Play’s to first!”

The next batter dug into the left-hand box and Jake knew almost instantly what he was calling. Three straight sliders breaking away had the lefty flailing at all three for the next strikeout.

Good! No errant shots on that batter. He looked over at the next batter coming up before shouting, “Two down! Play’s still at fi-irst!” with the last part climbing an octave as his voice cracked. Jake was grateful his mask was still on because his face had turned a bright red. Jake settled back into his crouch. He looked over at Jonas, who had the barest grin on his face as he peered in for the call. My debut happens and my voice cracks...great! I’m never gonna hear the end of this. Jake shook his head to regroup. Ok, next batter’s another righty, middle of the order, first-pitch swinger according to Mojo. Jake dropped his pinky shifted to the right, then curled it up a bit. Jonas nodded and set.

Jonas fired in a fastball headed to the outside black, slightly above belt-level. The hitter took a huge swing at it and Jake heard a more solid clang of the aluminum bat.

“Up!” Jonas shouted, pointing skyward, along with the middle infielders.

Jake looked skyward and caught sight of the ball, before being momentarily blinded as his gaze crossed the sun. He found it again as it hit its apex and began moving to get under it. He settled under it about halfway between the plate and the visitor’s dugout. The ball plopped right into his glove for the third out. He flipped the ball toward the mound and trotted off the field with the rest of the team.

He grabbed a seat at the end of the dugout and plunked down. Mojo slid over next to him as Jake pulled his chest protector off over his head.

“Glad your boys waited until later in the inning to drop,” Mojo joked. “That would’ve been way worse on the foul tip down Main.”

“Shut up,” Jake protested, with a bit of a laugh and a playful forearm shove.

The game continued on as Jake was now watching from the dugout. Jonas was absolutely dealing on the mound for the next two innings. He struck out the side in the second and added another two in the third, with a weak grounder to third as the other out. Mojo launched a three-run shot to dead center that cleared the softball fence on the first hop in his first at-bat. His second at-bat was another towering homerun, a two-run shot this time and number sixteen for the season to go with his fiftieth RBI, to right that smashed the windshield to a parked car there. Jake actually heard the owner swearing as his alarm went off.

The final out came as a Basha hitter sent a routine fly ball to shallow center. It ended the drubbing as Chandler won 11-0. The win also marked the twenty-fourth win of the season to go with ten losses. They would be moving onto the postseason but who their first-round opponent would be was still undecided.

After they all finished in the locker room, Jake, Jonas, and Mojo met up with their families outside the field. Mojo’s mother was standing there with his younger sister talking with the Hargroves as they all came up.

“There’s all our boys,” April Hargrove, their mother, remarked and greeted all three with a huge hug. “Great game.”

“Thanks,” they all replied, almost together.

“Definitely a great game,” Henry called from behind them as he walked up. He shook hands with each of the parents and then Mojo, Jonas, and Jake. “All three of you played great. I’ll be passing along good things about each one to my bosses back in Atlanta. And Jake, I’ll leave out the second out call so unless it’s already out there on the web, you’re somewhat safe.”

Jake just hung his head and muttered, “Thanks.” He braced himself for the ribbing to come as the scout walked off.

“So, we’re parked out that way,” Stacy, Mojo’s mother, said as she pointed in the general direction of their car. “We’ll meet at your place after we stop to let out our dogs.”

“Just bring them with,” Greg answered. “Ours will have fun with yours. Plus, the more the merrier.”

“Will do then,” Stacy returned. “See you in a little bit then.” The families went their own way to meet up later at the Hargroves.