Page 111 of The Friend Scheme
I watch as Jason drinks his, finishing it quickly, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down as he drinks. He lowers the can and wipes his mouth on his sleeve, then he throws away the empty can. It skitters across the ground.
“Don’t worry,” he says. “I’ll pick them up after.”
I finish mine, and throw it away, too. I’ve never drunk beer that fast before. He takes a ball from the mesh bag and puts it on the tee. Then he picks up the bat, twirls it around a couple of times, and offers it to me. I take it.
“Have you ever done this?” he asks.
“Not since middle school.”
“Just do what your instincts tell you. I’ll correct from there.”
“All right.”
I move up to the position and do a practice swing. It feels good, so I pull back, and hit the ball as hard as I can.
It flies a couple of yards, and then drops down onto the dirt.
“Good, right?” I say.
“You’re very cute, but dude, no. First things first, you’re holding the bat wrong. Two hands on the handle, like this.”
He stands behind me, looping his arms around me, so his hands are also on the bat.
“Like this.”
He corrects my grip on the bat. Next, he puts his hand on my chest, straightening me up. Then he nudges my front foot forward. God, these little touches are enough to overwhelm me.
“You want to stride out a little and keep your hands back. That’s steps one and two.”
“Sure.”
He moves his hand down to my hip. I stand very still. “Now, when you go to hit, you explode this out, toward the ball. When you do it, your hands should follow.”
“Idon’t follow.”
“Sorry, all right. Like, this.”
He gets into position in front of me, and then swings his hip forward. He does it so fast I know there’s no way I’m going to be able to do it.
“What’s next?”
“Step four is throwing your hands toward the ball. Like this.”
Again, it’s deceptively complicated for such a small movement, but maybe that’s because I’m so freaking untalented at sports. Still, I want to at least try.
“Then swing. That’s five. And six is extension through the ball. That’s how you get lift.”
“Okay.”
“And step seven is follow through.” He finishes his swing, then pokes me in the chest with the end of the bat. “And that, my friend, is how you hit a baseball.”
“Got it. I think.”
He puts a ball on the tee.
“You ready for this?” I ask.
“So ready.”
