The Hitting Zone

It only took us a little over an hour to get to Stanford. There wasn't any traffic on a Sunday night. As soon as we pulled up to the school, Noah sent a text to Mom saying that we had arrived.

The school wasn't as busy as the last time we were here, but it also wasn't as dead as I thought it would be. There were students walking across the campus on a Sunday night; most probably going back to their homes or something.

Zeke found a parking spot and we got out in time to see the sun setting over the campus. Noah was quick to snap a picture with his phone. Then we grabbed our bags and Zeke took the lead. We came across other teens, either alone or with their parents, all heading to the same dorm building.

The line was rather long, leaving us outside.

Zeke glanced down at us. "You guys stay here and follow the line. I'll go in and see if I can meet with Coach Leroy." He held both of his bags in one hand, over his shoulder, and headed for the door.

His movements grabbed the attention of those in line. He made it to the door, but was held up by those standing in the doorway.

"I think they're accusing him of cutting the line." Noah told me as we watched from afar.

"Because he is." The guy in front of us remarked. He spared a glance back us before snorting. "Too good to stand in line? How naive."

I immediately took a step back.

Noah did the opposite, taking a step forward. "You know what? You're right. He is too good to stand in line. After all, he's already one of the players for Stanford." Just as Noah had finished, we could see someone come out of the building and shook hands with Zeke. Then they went into the building together.

"He's one of the counselors for the camp?" The teen asked, sounding surprised. He turned back to give Noah his full attention.

Noah nodded. "All current and former players of Stanford's baseball team act as camp counselors and coaches."

"You guys showed up together? He's your brother?"

Noah nodded.

"So you got in through the backdoor?" The teen smirked.

Before Noah could lose his cool, someone commented from behind us. "College camps are opened to anyone and everyone." It was Rhys! He stood beside us and continued speaking. "College camps are about getting exposure. There is no 'backdoor'."

The teen in front of us snorted and faced forward.

"Don't mind him." Rhys told us. He wrapped an arm around Noah's shoulders and pulled him back closer to me. "How's the leg, Jake?"

"Good." I did a few calf raises to prove it. "No pain."

"That's good." He reaches out with his free hand to pat me on the head. "I was worried you weren't going to be healthy in time for the camp."

"Don't worry about him." Noah told Rhys. "Zeke made us run, workout, and play baseball yesterday. We are still sore."

I nodded in agreement.

Rhys laughed. "You must have done something to get on his bad side."

"That's not true!" Noah quickly explained what had happened during his birthday.

Rhys laughed the whole time as Noah recalled all the pranks he had to go through. "Wow. I always miss all the excitement with you guys. Sorry I couldn't make it to the party, by the way. I had to come here a couple days early to meet up with the pitching coach."

"Was it your first meeting? Did you show him what you've got?" Noah asked.

Rhys nodded. "It was the first time meeting, but with Coach Leroy standing behind me, there wasn't much he could say. He didn't have any disagreements after I showed him what I could do, too."

"Are you going to be a camp counselor for the week?" I asked.

Rhys nodded. "A lot of the localish players will be helping out. That's not all though. There'll be some other coaches and their assistants from some of the smaller schools helping out."

"Are they getting paid?" Noah asked.

Rhys shook his head. "Not really. They use this more as a recruiting tool to help their own schools."

"But doesn't everyone that come here, want to go to Stanford?" Noah asked.

"Maybe. Maybe not. The thing is though, Stanford can't accept everyone." Rhys explained. "That's where the smaller schools come in. At the end of the week, they can exchange contact information with the players that might fit their program. Especially community colleges. They can only have a player for two years. Maybe they'll convince the players that if they come to their school and help their program, then they can transfer to a bigger school like Stanford after improving their game." Rhys knew a lot about how college camps work. There was a lot of give and take between the host school and the other coaches. And even between the players that come here. "Not necessarily all players here want to go to Stanford. Coaches aren't the only ones looking at prospects. So are professional scouts."

"Scouts!?" Noah's eyes got wide. The MLB is his dream. He wasn't interested in going to college like the twins were.

"Not all players get to be on good teams or go to good high schools. They come to their biggest local college and try to showcase their skill in hopes of getting their name out there." Rhys explained. He glanced at me. "I'm sure your name will be at the top of everyone's lists by the end of tomorrow."

I looked away, feeling unsettled.

"Hey! What about me?!" Noah demanded, pretending to be offended.

Rhys laughed. "You're gonna have to work a little harder. Jake has a special skill. Your special skill is your work ethic."

Noah rolled his eyes. "I have fast reflexes too, okay?"

"Not fast enough at the plate." Rhys joked.

Noah pushed him away. "Jerk. I'll show you. By the end of this camp, I'll have a few college coaches showing interest in me. Maybe even a scout or two will take note."

"Who knows." Rhys answered.

As we were talking, the line was creeping forward towards the dorm building. It wasn't long before we walked inside, entering the common room. There were a couple of ping pong tables, a pool table, and a lounge area with a few rows of couches pointed at a tv.

Dead center of the room was a long table with some old and young men behind it. Teens and their parents would go to an open spot in front of one of them and get a packet of papers and a small envelope.

As soon as it was our turn, Zeke came out from behind the table and gave us our packets. He handed Rhys the envelope. "Take them to their room for me. It looks like we're going to be busy even after lights out."

Rhys accepted the envelope and nodded. "Sure. I'll come back to help once they're settled."

Zeke looked down at me and Noah. "Go to bed early. Tomorrow morning starts with evaluations." He turned away without explaining, helping other teens get their papers.