The Prospect, Eliot Parker [free ebooks for android .TXT] 📗

said or done that got her father so upset.
“Young lady, the less Shane Triplet knows about this family, the better off we all will be. I do not want you associating with him. Hear me! I will inform Chaz of this when he comes back in town.”
Confused and angered by this sudden temperament change, Olivia responded the only way she knew how-by asking for justification. “Why? You cannot tell me who to talk to and who not to talk two. Sheaville is so small, I will probably run into him all the time.”
“You had better not!” Morton grumbled. Seething, he stormed off the porch and hopped into the driver’s seat of the Mitchell family’s Honda Accord.


IX

The five-hour bus ride from Sheaville, West Virginia to Lexington, Kentucky was anything but exciting. The bus was packed with 30 players and managers and all of their equipment. The bus seats were narrow and small. Shane’s long legs spent most of the journey wrapped around Ryan Head’s seat so they would not ache under the confined conditions.
The Lexington Legends were one of the most recent additions to the Appalachian Baseball Association organization. Founded by several business and community leaders in the city, Lexington became a destination many minor league baseball players dreamed about. Because of the eccentric fan support plush team facilities, and other organizational support, the Legends were able to field one of the better teams in the ABA, at least since their inception.
When the Sheaville Loggers arrived at Applebee’s Park for the pre-game “walk around” and batting practice, many of the players were stunned at the superiority of the facility. The stadium was a modern marvel in minor league baseball. The venue seats more than 6,000 people and was built with special seating and eating areas to accommodate fans of all ages. There are 5,061 seats in non-padded permanent chairs, 500 seats in permanent bleachers and two-lawn seating areas that will accommodate at least 1,000 people.
The Loggers were taken to the visitor locker room so everyone could change into their light green uniforms trimmed in blue accented by the cursive Loggers embroidered on the front. What the players witnessed was a dressing room that appeared like a room from a four-star hotel. Restrooms were conveniently located throughout the locker room. There were two First Aid rooms for players and coaches and the lockers were wide and spacious. The entire room was air conditioned, and was so cool, some players actually complained about being cold. The stadium was light years ahead of Clark Field, but Walter Mann assured his team to not forget where they were and who they were going to play.
“All right men, I know that this place is like that Greenbrier,” referring to the nationally recognized four-star hotel and entertainment complex located in White Sulpher Springs, West Virginia, “but we have a job to do. We finished up that month of April on fire and I want to make sure we keep it going. Now, remember what we worked on in practice. Good relays from the outfield to the infield, watching the base runners, especially at first, and of course, not getting behind in that count.”
Walter’s speeches were always centered on the same themes: stay focused and play good sound fundamental baseball, and, if you can help it, win.
Shane and the rest of the Loggers took the field in front of more than 5,800 fans at Applebee’s Park. It was the largest crowed the team had seen all season. When Shane took the mound for his ninth appearance of the season, he dug his cleats repeatedly into the dirt on the pitcher’s mound. As the national anthem was blasted over the public address system, Shane could not gather his thoughts. Although he did not feel like being in Lexington or playing baseball, he had a responsibility to himself, the team, and most importantly, his mama. He had made arrangements for Frank Miller to check on Joann in the evenings to make sure she was taking her medicine and not drinking. Jack Ruby gave Joann a couple of days off to regain her strength and quite possibly her sanity. Shane’s knees were still scabbed as a result of falling on the floor but the welt on his face from the spatula attack had subsided.
As the signal was given by the home plate umpire to begin, Shane Triplet’s eyes and his demeanor began to shift internally. Almost like an electric switch had been thrown, Shane locked into home plate and was preparing to face his first batter of the game. He shoved a wad of chewing gum into his right jaw and began to take his stance on the pitching rubber. Harry Deitzler approached from first base as Lexington Legend Jeff MacCorkle came to home plate.
“Shane, this guy is good,” Harry said in a rough whisper so softly that Shane barely heard him.
“Okay, so what do you suggest for me throw to get this bitch out.”
By now, Harry caught glimpse of the home plate umpire coming toward the mound and Harry became a little flustered.
“I do not know Shane. All I know is he is he is fast and hits lines drives to all parts of the field and is regarded as an excellent bunter. He tore us up last year. So do what you have to do. Just thought I’d let you know.” And with a wink, Harry trotted back to first base, just before the umpire made it to the mound.
Occasionally lead off hitters with speed will try a bunt in the beginning of a game in order to catch a pitcher off guard. Knowing this, Shane decided to throw a fastball toward the inner half of the plate and see if MacCorkle would bunt the ball. He was a left hand hitter, so Shane would have to be careful not to let the pitch hang over the plate or a bunt could be the least of his worries.
Shane slid hit feet together, raised back and fired a fastball right where he wanted-on the inner-half. MacCorkle bunted, and the ball dribbled towards the left side of the mound, near third base. Harry stretched his stance at first and Shane scooped up the baseball, through it across his body, and the ball smacked into Harry’s glove, beating the hustling MacCorkle by two steps.
Instead of becoming too excited too early, something skipper Walter Mann despised, Shane just tipped his glove to his first baseman and Harry responded with a nod and a smile.
“Good team work guys!” barked Chaz Martinez from his shortstop position.
Walter Mann clapped incessantly from the dugout. Rubbing the sweat from his bald head and wiping his hands on his swollen gut, the manager was unsure what took place was too good to be true, so he stepped out onto the field to look at the scoreboard, just to make sure there really was one out in the top of the first inning.
One main disadvantage to playing the Lexington Legends was each player on the team was a superior hitter. Walter had informed the players about what the team was capable of as they got off the bus that morning. Lexington was hitting .391 on the season and they lead the Appalachian Baseball League in doubles with 53. They were sixth in the league in homeruns with 26, but second in the league in runs batted in, with 67.
Shane was inundated with fans waving balloons, hats, and other Lexington paraphernalia at him as he tried to prepare for Tito Camerillo, the Legends third baseman to step into the batters box. Biggie Rowan was covered in sweat after just one batter yet he continued to squat in between batters. Tito dragged his bat against the ground and raised in over his shoulder. At least he was right handed, Shane thought.
Biggie’s first sign was for a curveball on the outside corner of the plate. Shane obliged, always working quickly in between pitches, but the pitch landed low and inside. Biggie made the same sign, and once again Shane spun a beautiful curveball, but again it was inside, forcing Camerillo to jackknife back from the plate. Biggie shook his head and looked at Walter for another sign.
Walter did not ask Shane to throw his change-up pitch too often, primarily because young pitchers learning to throw correctly often needed seasoning before they learn to get the pitch to move across the plate in seconds. When the pitch was not executed properly, any good hitter could deposit the ball for a hit or worse. Tito Camerillo was certainly a good hitter.
Walter ran his hands all over his body, touching his arms, nose, hands, wrists and all points in between. It was Biggie’s job to break the code. The instructions were for Shane to pitch Tito a fastball on the outside portion of the plate. Walter’s reasoning for choosing this pitch at this location was to make Tito Camerillo guard all corners of the plate. Since Shane had come inside twice, Tito would probably be expecting a pitch down the middle of the plate to avoid moving the count to three balls and no strikes.
Shane got the sign from a crouched Biggie Rowan and stared backwards at the scoreboard at Applebee’s Park, eager to discharge a fastball. Located in right center field, the 13’ x 17’ video display scoreboard was the focal point of the stadium. It was nearly 90 feet tall and 70 feet wide featuring a five-foot analog clock. The display system includes a text message center, auxiliary signs, advertising displays, and a speed-of-pitch display. The display is used to show game-in-progress information and out of town scores, as well as advertising for upcoming events and general information.
When he turned around, Tito Camerillo was eagerly chewing on a wad of bubble gum, awaiting the offering. Shane set, delivered, and threw a fastball that bit the outside corner sharply. Like Walter had predicted, Tito was not prepared for the pitch, and he was slow in moving his bat from his shoulder to make contact with the ball. The result was a pop-fly pitch in foul territory beside Harry Deitzler, which the first baseman grasped for the second out of the inning.
Adrenaline slowly began to pump through Shane shoulders. Now he was physically and emotionally in game mode. His arm was loose; he rediscovered some control, and was now ready for the next batter. The Lexington Legends next hitter was Micah Lucas, a small but feisty player who was dangerous with the bat when he made contact, but his overzealous plate discipline created a penchant for swinging at bad pitches.
Walter Mann strayed father away from the dugout. Reluctantly, he was standing close to one of the Lexington Legends’ third base coaches. The same jumbled signs were delivered to Biggie and conveyed to Shane. The call: a heavy dose of fastballs with lots of movement.
In rapid succession, Shane fired three straight pitches at Micah Lucas. The first was high and outside, and Lucas swung and missed for strike one. Next, Shane smoked another fastball down and inside, almost hitting Lucas on the shin. Again, he swung and came up empty. Lastly, Shane fired a pitch that split the plate in half. This time, Micah did not even swing and was called out on strike three because he watched the ball whiz past him.
As the Sheaville Loggers jogged back to the dugout, Shane’s teammates patted him on the buttocks and gave him many congratulatory remarks. Ryan, Chaz, and Harry were the first to offer praise, and right fielder Pat Sutton was soon to follow. The team had come to realize there was something special taking place when Shane Triplet pitched. What amazed Shane, and perhaps the entire team, was the applause