We would play in the first game, which started at one. The other contest would be played in prime time at seven tonight. They let the baseball team out of school at ten-thirty, while the rest of the student body was being released at noon. Our booster club came through and offered buses to the game for anyone who wanted to go. From what we heard, we might get the whole student body to attend today’s game.
Our boosters had also arranged to send us to the game in style again. They had sack lunches ready for us as we got on. Once we arrived at State, we traipsed to the locker room to get dressed.
I’d noticed that my brother had had an indelible grin on his face all morning. I walked over to investigate and found Phil with his friends, Yuri and Roc.
“Why’s he so happy?” I asked.
“We think he got laid,” Roc answered.
“Hell, to the yeah!” Phil crowed as he danced around.
“Jill?” I asked.
“No, I met a college girl Saturday.”
I raised an eyebrow. While I wasn’t one to talk, I was curious about how the little dumbass had managed to pull that off.
“We went to a frat party,” Yuri said.
“Before you jump to conclusions, we didn’t drink,” Roc assured me, probably because of the look I gave them.
“Please tell me you used a condom,” I said to my brother.
His grin turned upside down.
“I think this will be a record for a Dawson. David at least waited to have his first baby until spring of his junior year,” Yuri said.
“If she would go with you …” Roc said with concern on his face, “you might want to get checked.”
Sometimes you didn’t even have to jump in to torment your little brother. His friends had done an excellent job for me.
“Do you want me to call your mom and have her set up an appointment so you can get tested for sexually transmitted infections?” I asked.
He called me a bad word and stormed off. I followed him and found him in the bathroom in one of the stalls.
“Dude, this is why you don’t share your exploits. People are going to poke fun at you,” I coached Phil.
“Get lost, David,” Phil said.
“I hate to say it, but I would get checked. I know a place where you can get it done, and no one has to know.”
“You do?”
I decided that I needed to be a big brother and help him.
“Believe me, it’s much better than having your mom go with you. That’s something that might have scarred me for life,” I shared.
I heard him chuckle.
“I would even take you,” I offered.
Phil opened the stall so we could talk face-to-face.
“You’re not always a dick,” Phil admitted.
“That’s what brothers are, half dick and half there for you. It’s the latter half that you’ll appreciate as you get older. Greg and I will always look out for you,” I assured him.
“Okay. I’d like your help.”
I nodded.
“What happened with Jill?” I asked.
Phil had taken her to Prom, and I’d even provided him with a hotel room. If he was out trying to pick up a college girl, things must not have gone well with his ex.
“She’s leaving for New York on Sunday. I guess she’s catching a flight with your friend at Wesleyan.”
“Sarah?” I asked.
“That sounds right.”
“Did you at least have a good time?” I asked to turn the conversation back to him getting laid.
“Yeah,” he admitted and then leaned in close. “She knew things.”
“I pretty much dated older girls because of that very fact. In a few years, Jill will kick herself for not getting with you,” I assured him.
He surprised me when he gave me a hug. We’d come a long way from when we first met. He now felt like a real little brother to me.
“Let’s go play baseball,” Phil said to remind me why we were here.
◊◊◊
Moose brought us together before the game.
“The coaches for the teams in the championship playoffs got together with the state’s governing body to go over the rules for the next two games. I asked for a clarification of what constituted rest days for pitchers. I wanted to determine if it meant 24 hours, or you couldn’t pitch the next day even if the game was later.
“The HSAA said it’s considered the next calendar day and not based on hours. That means that tonight, we’re going to pitch by committee. No one can go over 45 pitches, or they won’t be allowed to throw in the championship game on Wednesday.
“Justin, you get the ball to start us off. If you’re doing well, we’ll leave you in for the max 45. But I want you available for the next game,” Moose said.
“Men, this is it,” Coach Haskins said. “Remember when I told you that you couldn’t do certain things like slam into a fence to catch a ball?”
For some reason, everyone turned their eyes to me.
“This and the next game, all those rules go out the window,” he continued.
“Are you saying we can finally unveil our special plays? The ones we used to trash David in practice with?” Tim asked.
The two coaches looked at each other for a moment and nodded.
“If the right situation arises, I’ll give the signal,” Moose said.
“Take them out, David,” Coach Haskins said.
“Who are we?” I barked.
“BULLDOGS!” the team responded.
“Where are we?”
“OUR HOUSE!”
“What are we going to do?”
“WIN!”
“Let’s go!” I yelled, and the team followed me out of the locker room.
◊◊◊
Marian Catholic High School was a college-preparatory school located in Chicago Heights, which was on the far south side of Chicago’s suburbs. 99 percent of their students were bound for college.
When we came out of the locker room and saw our opponents for the first time, it was evident they had spent some time in the weight room. They had some boys who were big physical specimens. I’d hoped that our training gave us an edge, but it looked like they’d taken their training as seriously as we did. Physically, they looked to be the closest to our level that we’d played to this point.
They’d reseeded us again for the championship playoffs, and we’d been selected as the second seed, which meant we were the home team tonight. Central, which was located just a few miles from where we were playing, was rated number one.
I took the guys out to warm up. Most teams warm up by doing some stretching and then tossing the ball around. They might even do a little fielding practice. While we stretched, we also ran to get ready. Baseball is a lot of standing around and then sudden, explosive moves.
We had a series of exercises that mimicked baseball moves, including the shuffle, crossover, three-yard-start, running-backward, and quick-feet drills. We ran through those before we broke up between infield and outfield to loosen up our arms. The end result was we were already sweaty and had our blood pumping before the game started.
I could tell we would have a good game by how the guys were loose and joking around. Marian Catholic, on the other hand, looked tense. They were on their bench, not talking, only staring at us while we did our thing. It sort of gave you a creepy, stalker vibe.
When they came out, our opponents were all business. They looked like coil springs that were wound too tight. One of the crucial lessons Cassidy had taught me the hard way was that you keep the tension out of your limbs. Tight muscles slowed your reactions.
That was why in big games, you sometimes heard announcers talk about how teams played poorly at first. They were too tight. I thought that for the first couple of innings, we might be able to take advantage of that.
I totally believed in psyching our team up before a game, but there were two ways to build the excitement. The good kind would be like me bouncing around with Duke before we played ball in the backyard. The bad kind would be like I told him that Max was crapping on his sidewalk, and Duke wanted to kill him.