The Hitting Zone

Early Saturday morning, the whole Atkins family plus me, were piled into the suv with our baseball bags filling the trunk. The game started at 9am at some baseball complex that would be able to accommodate all games. Which meant check-in was at 7:30am and warmups at 8am. Therefore, we were on the road at 6am. The injustice.

Zeke and the twins sat in the middle row, while Noah and I squeezed in the very back. Mr. Atkins drove as Mrs. Atkins read a book in the passenger seat. Compared to yesterday's tense practice atmosphere, the Atkins boys were very relaxed. The twins slept, leaning against the cool windows; Zeke was reading a book for homework; and Noah was trying to teach me how to play his handheld video game.

To be honest, I really didn't want to learn. I wanted to go back to sleep. Even after last nights ice bath, my body felt stiff, especially after being squished in the back.

Noah kept talking on and on, and I really didn't understand. I've never had the opportunity to play games before, so I sucked. He should know best after playing in the arcade for the past two Sundays.

"You should focus less on video games and more on the upcoming game." Zeke spoke to us without turning around. "As freshmen, you both have a responsibility to prove that you belong, otherwise the upperclassmen won't be happy if you keep starting over them."

Noah rolled his eyes. "It's not like you would let us start, if we suck."

Zeke looked up from his book and glanced back at him. "I'm glad you understand. If you don't get on base at least once, you won't start the next game. Regardless if we get to play in game two." He turned his head to look at me. "Don't forget that you'll have to run laps for every error. Including mental errors when you're in the batters box."

My eyes widened. I had forgotten. Between school and practice this week, it slipped past me that I would have a punishment if I messed up today. I tensed up, and slowly looked at Noah. He would have to run too. I should apologize beforehand.

"Dad! Mom!" Noah called out. "Zeke is threatening us!"

"Noah, my hearing is just fine." Mr. Atkins glanced at us through the rear view mirror. "Zeke is in captain mode, not older brother mode. He's being fair to your teammates."

Noah sighed. "Is Zeke ever in big brother mode?"

Zeke eyed him. "I wouldn't have put you in the lead off spot if I didn't think you could do it."

Noah smirked. "I wouldn't let you down. Plus." He threw an arm around my shoulders. "Jake will be able to drive me home."

"That's unrealistic." Zeke shook his head. "Jake doesn't have hitting power. Especially with a wooden bat. What could happen is you getting on base, steal. Maybe steal again. Then he could drive you home. But I do want to try a double steal with you both at least once."

Uhhhh. What. I stared at him with wide eyes.

Noah noticed. "A double steal is when we're both on base, and attempt to steal ahead. It could be first and second running to second and third respectively. Or it could be second and third, stealing third and home. Orrrrr it could be first and third, you fake stealing second, I run home, then you safely make it to second or go back to first."

I shook my head vigorously. He didn't understand. I cleared my throat. "I don't know how."

"To do a double steal?" Noah said. "No worries. It doesn't require too much coordination. You just have to time it well."

I kept shaking my head.

"You don't know how to steal." Zeke stated.

I nodded.

Zeke and Noah stared at me in disbelief. But I don't know why they're surprised. I've said before, that I've never played in a game. Maybe they didn't understand that I wasn't really ever on a team or practice with one. I was only allowed in the cages.

Zeke and Noah exchanged looks. Zeke sighed. "Why didn't you say anything when being taught the signs?"

"What signs?" I tilt my head in confusion.

Zeke immediately swung his head to Noah. "You didn't go over the signs?"

"Oops." Noah shrugged, shamefaced. "It may have slipped my mind."

Zeke rolled his head back, exasperated. "How do you expect him to know what to do throughout the game?!"

"Zeke." Mr. Atkins warned. "It's fine. Noah can go over it with Jake right now. It would still be reasonable for Jake to not know all the signs. We have another thirty minutes until we arrive."

Noah looked at me, pleadingly with his eyes. "It's easy. I swear."

"I still don't know what signs are for..?" I replied in a low voice, still confused on what they were talking about.

"Secret signals will fly back and forth between managers, coaches, and players determining such things as pitch type, location, infield-outfield depth and position, bag coverage, take, hit, bunt, bunt and run, suicide squeeze, hit and run, run and hit, steal, double steal, or delayed steal." Zeke told me, straightforwardly.

I blinked. And blinked again. Uh. This doesn't sound like something I can learn in half an hour.

"You're intimidating him." Noah put his hands on Zeke's head, forcing him to face forward. "Just leave it to me. I'll get him to memorize the basics."

"It's me leaving it to you in the first place, that got us to this point." We heard Zeke mumbled.

Noah paid no attention to his snide remark and faced me head on. "Okay Jake. This won't be too hard. Just listen here."