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Grabbing my gear bag, I jog over to warm up before we get started. I can hear Taylor right behind me. I stop near the side of the dugout to stretch as does Taylor.
“You could have mentioned you were an all-star.”
“What would it have mattered? Not like it would have made you nice.” Taylor snips at me.
“I was nice.” I snip, turning my back to her.
“Shit, if that’s your nice, I would hate to see you bitchy.”
“Keep it up and you will.” I throw back at her. “Listen, WE, this team and I have worked really hard this season to have the rank we do. We are the first team from this school to be invited to this tournament. WE don’t need some newcomer messing it up. So, just try to catch the ball, defend the plate, hit and I’ll handle the rest. I am the captain.”
“Honestly? Do you hear yourself?”
“Yes, I do. Question is, did you hear me?”
“Oh, all mighty captain, I heard you loud and clear. You do your job and I’ll do mine.” Taylor barks at me.
I finish my last stretch. Taking my mitt, I head onto the field. I always run the bases three times before I begin a practice. I guess it cames from when my dad coached my t-ball league. He had us run the bases before, during and after the practices. Taylor didn’t follow me.
Little Miss Sassy thinks she’s all that as an all-star catcher. Let’s see if she can handle what an all-star pitcher can dish out.
“Let’s see what you’ve got.” Taylor announces as she squats down in her catcher’s stance.
You wanna see what I’ve got? Ok go fetch!
My usual stance, the windup and the throw.
Oops, wide, very wide.
Not that I would admit I did it on purpose. The next pitch I put a ton of effort behind, but I do nothing to control where it goes. Same with the next one.
Taylor throws the ball back hard. Glaring at me each time. We go on like this for half an hour. Each trying to get the other the tap out, but I won’t admit my hand and arm are starting to ache. I keep it up for a half hour until I hear the coach yelling.
“What the hell are you two doing?” HONESTLY! Get over here! NOW!”
I didn’t notice the entire team standing on the third base line watching us. All the coaches have gathered in a line, they have their arms crossed, and they look pissed.
“Explain yourselves!” Coach Simons barks. “Well?”
"What do you want us to explain?” I ask, trying to look innocent.
“WHAT DO I WANT YOU TO EXPLAIN? How about you explain why you won’t be able to pitch on Friday because your arm is too sore from trying to one up Taylor. Who we need as well. So, how about Taylor explains why you can’t play because your arm and hands are sore from catching wild fast pitches then hurling the ball back?” Coach turns back to me. “Meredith, what was that? I’ve never seen you pitch that bad! I’m disappointed in you. VERY disappointed. I expect more out of the captain.” She turns to Taylor.
“AND I expect more out of two all-stars. This petty who’s better than who crap ends NOW. DO- I- MAKE- MYSELF- CLEAR?”
Taylor and I both answer, “Yes, coach.”
“Practice is done. We meet tomorrow at six sharp at the main gym entrance to take the bus to the airport. Does everyone have their packing checklist?”
“Yes, coach.” From a chorus of voices.
“Good, okay, we are done. Meredith, you stay.” Coach Simons tells the rest of the team as my stomach drops. Looking over at the team, no one will make eye contact with me. They all have their heads down as they gather their gear and jog off to the locker room.
Taking in a deep breath, I slowly let it out as the last member of the team leaves the diamond. Coach has her hands on her hips, her head cocked to one side, and is staring at me. Anger radiating off her.
“Coach, I…” I’m cut off.
“You are the captain of this team. The one they look up to. The all-star of the team - AND THIS,” She shoots a handout toward home plate. “THIS is how you act to a new member of the team? WHY?”
