Page 51 of Harley

I didn’t quite hit a home run, but I reached third before the ball returned. I skidded to a stop as Carmine yelled.

Once again, I’d got him and Woodrow through.

The crowd was going wild. The next batter struck out, but I raced home on the following guy. Shutout met me, slapping my back hard. We were eight runs up, and the opposing team hadyet to get a single touch. Between Shutout and me, we were on fire.

Coach didn’t say a word, but he was watching me with a curious expression. He offered a nod of approval and concentrated on the next batter up.

By the fifth inning, I hit another home run, and come the eighth, I was on a third. Shutout was heading for another shutout, and the crowd held their breath.

As I stepped up, I felt the tension in the air.

Would I hit a fourth?

Confidently, I grinned at the audience and pointed towards Oakley, whose squeal was clearly heard. Each time I’d hit one, I’d pointed to her. The Jumbotron had several times landed on Oakley’s beautiful face each time. There was no question I was hitting them for her.

I dug in and watched. The first throw was a foul ball, as was the second. Gregson grinned, trying to throw me off balance, but I kept watching his body language. I recognised his decision and gritted my teeth. This fucker played a hell of a curve ball. Gregson let it fly, and I swung.

A gasp rose from the crowd as there was a resounding whack of the ball hitting the bat, and I took to my heels. That was another home run.

Shutout was whooping as we run, and the ball flew out of bounds.

“Holy cow!” the commentator blared over the speakers. “Harley Michaelson has just hit a fourth home run. He joins eighteen players in that achievement. Got to ask, why the hell isn’t Michaelson Junior playing pro?”

I chuckled as I jogged around the bases and leapt into Shutout’s arms as I hit home. Shutout hoisted me high as my teammates burst from the dugout. I was slapped and hugged for a few minutes as they cheered their enthusiasm.

Honestly, this might be the only game I played with pros, and I planned to leave a mark.

My team hit two further home runs before being struck out. We struck out on the ninth, but everyone held their breath as Shutout stepped up. Nobody had hit a single pitch, and the tension was high.

I grasped the rail tightly as he struck out the first player. The guy turned and tipped Shutout a salute of respect. The commentator was squeaking in excitement.

Carmine wound up and threw.

“Strike three!” the umpire announced.

The batter repeated his fellow teammate and walked off. The final batter strolled up to the plate and pointed his bat at Shutout.

“I’m going to ruin your game, Michaelson,” he boomed.

Shutout didn’t acknowledge him. He pitched and hit strike one.

The batter spat on the floor and dug in. Strike two.

The tension in the grounds was tangible as Carmine picked his pitch. Everything slowed down, and the batter swung… and missed.

I screamed before the umpire even yelled and was running towards Shutout.

“Strike three!” the umpire bellowed as the stadium broke into a riot. Screams and cheers erupted. Those watching had got their money’s worth, that was for sure. I hit my brother and shook him before strangling him in a tight hug.

Shutout was laughing as he slapped my back. The crowd was going wild as the rest of the team caught up, and both of us were hoisted onto their shoulders.

“Carmine Michaelson has just pitched his second shutout!” the commentator was screaming. “And what about the youngerMichaelson? Where the hell have they been keeping Harley? What a game!”

Slowly, we broke apart, and Coach stood there. “Want you in Chicago. Fuck what your doctors say. If this is you at ninety per cent, then I can’t imagine one hundred. There’s raw talent there, son. Come and be tested, and let my medical team check you over. Because experts can be fucking wrong, boy.”

“What?” I gasped as Shutout stood at my shoulder.

“Knew it!” Shutout yelled, slapping my back hard. “This is why I baited you. You’d never have tried out for a team!”

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