Rookie Triumph

Using the barrel of the bat, Travis knocked the dirt from his cleats before stepping in the batters box. Once he settled into his stance he glared at the pitcher hoping to intimidate the veteran flame-thrower. 

 Travis was selected in the 23rd round of the 2022 MLB draft. Not highly recruited, he was the 422nd player chosen in the draft, and one of 26 high schoolers selected. Now two years removed from high school, he's playing ball in the low minor leagues trying to make his mark as a center fielder. Much to his surprise, Travis was invited to join the big-league club for the upcoming seasons spring training. 

He was ecstatic but knew he was considered more of a “suspect” than a “prospect.”  But all that mattered to him was today's at-bat, his very first. It was the only thing in his control. He set his hands and saw the pitcher move into his wind-up. The ball had smacked the catcher’s glove before Travis was able to focus on the pitch.

"Strike one," said the  umpire.

“Nice one kid,” the catcher said, gently taunting the rookie as he flipped the ball back to the pitcher. "You almost got the bat off your shoulder.”

Travis stepped out of the box and studied the pitcher who wandered off the mound rubbing the baseball. Taking a deep breath he got back in the box. 

Go ahead. Bring the heat old-timer, think I can’t hit it.  I’ll see this one.

The pitcher wound up. Reared back to throw. Travis picked up the ball coming out of his hand as he had been taught for many years. The same spin, the same scorching fastball. This time he swung. His natural swing, perfectly timed but just an inch to low and the foul ball ticked high off his bat to the screen behind home plate.

"Foul ball. Strike two," yelled the umpire holding up one closed fist and two fingers on the other hand, signifying a count of no balls and two strikes.

“Aww that was close kid. Hey, Kirby,” he yelled to the pitcher, “he almost got you on that one. Bring more heat, my brother.”

The veteran pitcher just shook his head at the catcher’s constant chatter. He looked in for the sign and saw the catcher point one finger to the ground, meaning fastball. He rocked back and fired a fastball, the hardest one the kid had seen yet.

But the ball sailed high and the kid could hear the pitcher curse his own wildness before turning to face the outfield. Another spring of having to prove myself against a new crop of wet-behind-the-ears kids, he mumbled to himself.

“You shouldn’t have pissed him off kid,” chided the catcher.  “He’s likely to drill you with the next one.”

The kid could see the irritation on the veteran’s face, but he calmed his mind.  “See and react,” he said to his bat before taking a couple of practice swings.

The pitcher’s arm reared back. Suddenly it was headed high and tight toward his head. He waited and yes, the curveball began to dive toward the middle of the plate. He swung effortlessly and connected. He barely felt the impact, but he could see he caught the ball on the sweet spot of the bat and sent it soaring toward the outfield.

Travis dropped the bat and ran toward first. As his heart raced, he desperately wanted to stop and watch the ball in flight, but knew he couldn't. As he rounded first base the flight of the ball was in view and he watched it drop over the fence and on to the lawn in left field as fans swarmed to grab a souvenir.

He continued around the bases on the hot afternoon with his head down, respectful of the game, trying to act as if he had done this many times before. When he touched home plate he felt the catcher tap his behind with his glove.

“Nice hit, kid.”

Travis nodded, grabbed his bat and trotted back to the dugout. It was a home run in a meaningless game on an Arizona practice field both miles and years away from the major leagues. Today, though, it meant everything.