The Hitting Zone

Coach Rob stayed with us until we got to the front of the line. He helped us check in with one of his assistants and handed us numbered stickers again. "These go everywhere. Front, back, pants, shirts, helmet. Then put some on your bags too."

Noah took off his backpack. "Our overnight bags too?"

"Yes." He nodded. "We'll be taking your overnight bags straight to your assigned rooms so don't leave anything valuable in them either."

"It's like bellhop service." Noah started peeling his stickers and putting them everywhere.

"We can't waste time." Coach Rob explained. "We have less than 48 hours to see you boys in action."

"Do you need help taking the bags to the rooms?" Dad asked. "Dave and I can help out since we're sticking around."

"No, no. We already have everything arranged." Coach Rob explained to Dad how they were able to sign off on community service hours for those that needed it. After putting stickers on our backpacks, they were taken away and we were ushered out of the line.

"I'll come find you later, Jake." Coach Rob said to me before leaving to greet another coach.

"I've got to say, I feel really assured that your coach is so attentive." Mom smiled and patted me on the head. "We'll be around and easy to find. You just play like you want and try not to stress yourself out."

I nodded. "I know." I just didn't know if I could help it.

Dave and Dad added their own words of encouragement, and not just for me, but for Noah too. He didn't have a spot on this team yet and everyone knew how important it was to him. And to me. It would probably be just as important to me if he made the team too. Just an extra comfort.

Noah and I switched into our cleats and left our bags to join some of the guys on a run. I stuck close to Noah, examining those around us and noticing a wide variety. We were all 16 and under so there were teens that looked like young men with their facial hair growing in and then there were some that were smaller and even looked younger than Noah and I.

A coach jogged to the front of the group and said to follow him. He took us on a giant lap, running around the campus of fields and buildings. He pointed out a few places like the dorms and cafeteria. He then led us back and told us to pair up and start getting warmed.

I glanced at the long line of guys still checking in. "Are we not waiting for everyone?"

"They're probably using this time to start dividing us up." Noah said. "Watch. After we throw for awhile, I'm sure they'll start pulling pitchers and catchers. Maybe divide us as infielders and outfielders."

I made a face. "When do you think I can get pulled for hitting?"

Noah laughed and slapped my back. "Probably not until after lunch. That's probably when they'll really get things going."

Noah was on point with his predictions. During our warmup they would start to pull players by calling their numbers. It would leave some players stranded without a partner suddenly, and I was glad that that wouldn't happen to me. I don't know if I'd be a player today if Noah was a pitcher.

Eventually a coach came by and started to assign the rest of us to another assistant coach. We took our bags and followed him to a field where we focused on infield drills and throws. At every position. I thought I did okay, only having a couple of bobbles and maybe a handful of bad throws. At the very least, it wasn't my worst showing.

By the time lunch rolled around, we were sweaty with dirt everywhere. Noah and I made a stop to wash our hands and faces before lining up for the cafeteria.

"Honestly, we probably should have asked Mom to bring us something from outside." Noah sighed after glancing at his phone. He had gotten a text from Dave that he and our parents went to a local restaurant around the corner.

"You don't even know what they're serving yet." I pointed out. "Maybe you'll like the lunch."

Noah was skeptical. And after seeing our options, he was already sending Dave a text to bring him some snacks at least.

I wasn't that picky. I accepted the small salad and piled my plate with spaghetti and it's watery looking sauce. I did skip the thin fried chicken, unsure of its texture.

"It's like our cafeteria food at school." Noah mumbled.

I let out a small laugh. "How would you know? We don't eat at the caf."

Noah complained, glancing around at the few options. We found a relatively empty table and started to eat. Well, I did with minimal issues. Noah grumbled, keeping an eye out like Dave could suddenly appear out of thin air.

"Yo." Noah said and suddenly stood up. I stopped and watch as he started to wave. "Hey! Hey, Danny!"

Danny? I turned around, trying to spot who Noah was calling. Oh! My eyes widened at the sight of a familiar face. Danny. From Servite.

He finished filling his tray and came over with his food, placing it beside Noah and taking a seat. "Hey, I was wondering when I was going to run into you guys." He nodded at me. "Hey Jake, still blasting bombs?"

My lips twitched. "Hey."

Noah sat back down too. "You should have sent me a message on the gram. We could have met sooner. Heck, you could have gone to the Stanford game with us last night."

"Stanford game?" He sounded confused.

Noah explained how Zeke was playing for Stanford and how they were in the midst of a small tournament this weekend.

"I'm not very interested in college ball." Danny shrugged, unbothered.

"You don't plan on taking the college route?" Noah asked.

"Nah." He shook his head. "I want to enter the draft." His eyes narrowed. "I read that one of your brothers and the lefty pitcher on your team were going pro."

Noah nodded and talked about Kyle and Garret's decision. Garret was projected to go early so it was a popular topic. Kyle wasn't anything to scoff at either, projecting to go in the first five rounds at least. Plus, Noah knew more about Kyle's path and how he committed to Dave's college of choice to improve his leverage and how he's got representation already.

Danny nodded along, happily listening while eating, occasionally asking follow up questions. Even some about Dave and why he chose a different path than Kyle.

I started to feel a little queasy and slowed down, poking the food at my plate. I knew what was coming. The dreaded question about my future.

Except…it didn't come. Danny never asked what Noah and I had planned. He was interested in what Kyle had to go through to prepare for the draft and what kind of things our parents wanted Kyle to learn before he went pro. Like learning about tax accountants and lawyers and agents and what all it took to make a supportive team.

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