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I was gonna try and translate it, then you did it for me at the end.

April 29th, 2014
11:00 AM

After a fantastic night at the plate (hitting two homeruns and driving in three), the Lookouts’ star first baseman Matthew Ratajczyk figured he was due for a long night’s sleep. He woke up to the pleasant sound of his alarm: Erik Satie’s Gymnopédie No.1.

Curiously, though, he woke up alone. He grunted as he stretched. Outside of his window was a blue jay, basking in the sunlight of the beautiful spring (mid)morning.

“What a lovely day.” Ratajczyk couldn’t help but comment.

He got out of bed and walked to the kitchen. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a hastily written note on his counter:

Matt -

I have to go back to Illinois. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, but something came up. I’ll call you later.

Love you,
Steph

Hm… Wonder what happened. I should call her.

Matthew decided to forgo a late breakfast/early lunch, a “lunkfast”, if you will, and went back to his room to get his phone.

-bzzbzzbzz-

Seems she’s psychic, he thought with a chuckle. It indeed was his girlfriend of five years, Stephanie, calling him.

“Hello?”
“Oh good, you’re awake.” Her voice was quiet and weary.
“Hey, I was just going to call you. Everything alright?”
Stephanie let out a sigh, “no… My-” The shrill scream of a police siren drowned out her voice.
“What was that? Sorry, all I could hear is that siren.”

It dawned on Matthew, perhaps a bit late, that it was strange to hear a siren.

“Hey, hold on. Where are you?” he asked her
“I’m at some gas station off the highway.” she replied in a matter-of-fact manner, “but that’s not why I’m call-”
“Why the hell are you at ‘some gas station off the highway?’” Ratajczyk was very confused
“I’m going back to Illinois, I told you that--well, I wrote it on the note--but regardless,” she paused, “it’s my sister. She’s… She’s not doing so good.”
“What?”
“I don’t really know. My dad called me last night at, like, 4 in the morning and said that she was in the hospital. I don’t know why. He told me to get back home right away. Matt, I really don’t know what’s happening right now and this STUPID *(censored)* loaner has some problem with its tires or something. I don’t know, Matt. I really… I’m really nervous. Miranda’s always had health problems, why wouldn’t my dad tell me what’s going on?! I don’t-”
“WHOA, HEY, Stephanie! Slow down. So what’s happening? Your sister’s in the hospital?”
“YES! That’s what I just *(censored)* said, are you even listening?”
“Of course! I’m… Just trying to catch up. What time did you leave? Right at 4?”
“Obviously.” Stephanie was starting to get annoyed that Matthew wasn’t as worked up as she was.
“Okay. The drive to Illinois is, what, like nine hours?”
“Yeah, around there. That’s what the GPS says, at least.”
“Okay, so you should almost be there. That’s good. What exactly did your dad say on the phone last night?”
“I already told you, he didn’t tell me anything. He just said ‘Miranda’s in the hospital. We really need you to come home for her.’ or something.”
“Okay, so you don’t actually know if this is a bad thing then, right?”
“WHY THE HELL WOULD SHE BE IN THE HOSPITAL FOR A GOOD REASON?” Stephanie was shouting at Matt. At this point, his detective skills were doing nothing but provoke.

He took the phone off his ear as she went into a rant about him never seeming to care when she had a crisis.

“Are you kidding me? I care about you more than anyone else in the entire world.” He, calmly, said once she stopped.
“Oh.”

There was a break in their conversation. The sound of cars whirling by were the only thing that kept Matt aware she hadn’t hung up.

“Matt,” Stephanie broke the silence, “I know you're busy with baseball, but I really need you right now. Please come back to Illinois.”
____________________________________________________________________

Should he stay or should he go? If he goes there will be trouble, but if he stays it will be double.

PM PPfan with your decision.

Very clever of you.

QFT

Also this was a very good update overall. Keep it up.

April 30th, 2014
5:53 AM

Matthew Ratajczyk pulled into the driveway of his Illinois home for the first time in two months.

“Shoot.” He said, looking out his window, “I forgot my coat…”
He slowly opened his door and was met with a torrent of water to his unshowered head. He quickly made his way to the front door and stuck the key in the lock.
“I should change…” He said aloud. He walked upstairs slowly, avoiding the creaking steps he had become so accustomed to.
He stopped at the top of the steps and carefully removed his wet clothes. In nary but his briefs, Matthew walked into his room, opened his closet door, and threw on the first pair of pants he could grab. He then moved over to the dresser and put on one of his many Chicago Cubs t-shirts. This’ll have to do, I suppose he thought.

He saw his bed without an occupant, turned around and walked downstairs.

This time with his coat on and hood up, Ratajczyk made the long walk back to his car.

6:49 AM

St. Mary’s Hospital, this is it.
Matthew pulled into the nearly empty parking garage. The hospital wasn’t busy so early on a Wednesday.

Walking through the main doors, Matthew was met with the overwhelming smell of antiseptics and bleach. I’ve always hated hospitals…
Despite his initial discomfort, Matthew made his way to the information desk.
“Hi,” he said to the tired-looking middle aged woman working the desk, “I’m looking for a Miranda Marson. She was admitted yesterday.”
“Marson?” The woman repeated
“Yes.”
“Hold on a second.”
She turned to her computer.
.
.
.
“Oh, yep, Miranda Marson, here she is. Room 307.”
“307, got it. Thanks!” Matthew quickly ran down the closest hallway.
“Uh…” He stopped dead in his tracks. “I have no idea how to get there.”

6:57 AM

After a particularly embarrassing amount of time trying to figure out the labyrinthine hallways of the hospital, Matthew finally found the third floor and the correct wing.
He stared at the closed door in front of him, “307” was written on it.
He knocked twice and slowly pushed it open.

As he passed over the threshold, was stuck with a goofy smile on his face.
His girlfriend, Stephanie, jumped out of the folding chair she was sitting in. “Matt!” She said as she hugged him, “Thank you so much for coming.”
“Of course.” Matt turned his attention to Miranda, who was sleeping calmly in her bed. All sorts of tubes were connected to her, along with some electrodes on her head. “How’s the patient doing?”
“She’s doing okay now. They said she had a mild seizure.”
“A ‘mild’ seizure? Jesus. Has she been asleep the whole time you’ve been here?”
“No… She just fell asleep a couple of hours ago… I…” tears began to form in Stephanie’s eyes, “I’m so tired, Matt.”
“I know you are.”
“My parents were saying she had a bad episode a few hours before I got here. She… She could’ve been…” Before she was able to finish her thought, she broke down. The hours wore hard on her. Matthew put his arms around her, “It’s okay… It’s… all going to be okay. I know, I know…”

When she pulled away, she looked at his face. He gave her a soft, calm smile.
“Oh, I’m so happy you’re here.” She said
“I’ll always be here for you, Steph.”

The two of them sat in silence, before Stephanie drifted off to sleep.
“Sleep well.”
Matt himself wasn’t too far behind, fresh off nine straight hours of driving. Stephanie curled up against him, her eyes closed and face soft. Matt wasn’t sure if she was asleep or not, but either way he appreciated the physical contact. He smiled and wrapped his arm around his girlfriend before he felt himself beginning to drift off…

Awwwww, thumbs up to Matthew's owner(it could be me ) for making the good guy decision.

April 30th, 2014
9:19 AM

Matthew was dreaming.

He was in an airplane, travelling to some unnamed, far off land for a beautiful vacation with Stephanie. There was no one else on the plane, of course, as he’d chartered a private jet. “No expense spared,” he’d told her with a kiss and a smile.

He looked out the window and saw cities below zoom by. They were flying beneath the clouds. That didn’t strike Matt as odd, of course, because he was dreaming. He put his arm around Stephanie next to him and closed his eyes. It was only moments later that he heard a horrendous beeping noise.

BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!

“This is your captain speaking,” Matt suddenly heard. He was holding a phone. He put it to his ear. “We’re about to encounter some rough air.”

BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!

Suddenly the plane began to shake violently. He felt the plane descending. Stephanie turned to him and yelled, “Wake up!”
“I’m awake!” he shouted back. He was confused.

BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!

“Matt! Wake up!”
“Wha…” Matthew’s heavy eyes opened slowly. He was being shaken by Stephanie, and his ears were being assaulted by the piercing beeping of one of the many monitors in the room.
“Wake up! Fuuuuck…” Stephanie ran towards the door, “Nurse! Nurse! I need someone here! Please help!”
“What’s happening?!” Ratajczyk was now fully awake. He looked at the bed where, just moments ago, Miranda lay sleeping peacefully.

Time seemed to screech nearly to a halt: The violent convulsions. The screaming. The rattling of the bed. The nurses rushing into the room. Matthew stood completely still; rather, he was unable to move. Vaguely, he heard a voice. He couldn’t tell whose it was through the fog, though, and so he stayed still. His brain was working against itself, the part of it that wanted him to snap out of this state battling the part that had put him in it to begin with. As time passed, the former gained leverage, and the image of a middle aged nurse began to crystallize in the center of his vision.

“Sir! Hello?! Get the hell out of the way!”
“What?”
She pointed towards the door, “Move!”
“R… right. Uh, okay. Right.”

Matthew stumbled awkwardly toward the door, nearly tripping and knocking over a nurse trying to attend to Miranda. His legs beneath him were weak and unreliable, and so he reached to his left for a conveniently placed handicap rail that guided him to his destination.

Stephanie waiting on the other side, hand over her mouth, him totally out of it and unable to speak. It was the first time Stephanie had seen Matt lose his composure, and that made the situation all the more horrifying; her rock was cracking, and she had nothing else on which to lean.

The pair of them stood there looking like the most pitiful couple on the face of the earth. He was woozy and pale, dripping with sweat. She was a ghost, too upset to cry. They watched the chaos in the room, outsiders looking in with nothing but their own imaginations as a way of knowing what was going on.

Finally, Stephanie’s mask broke, and she buried her head in Matthew’s chest and bawled.

May 2, 2014
8:27 AM

The smell of antiseptics still made Matthew uneasy. The once impossible hallways were now familiar to him, so he made his way to room 307 with ease. He didn’t bother knocking on the door as he entered.

“Hey… Hope I’m not interrupting.” he said as he snuck in the door left ajar
“Oh,” Miranda was sitting up in her bed. After days of intensive care, her voice was hoarse, “thank you so much for coming, Matth-” she coughed twice. “Uh… Steph, could you pass me some of my water?”
Stephanie handed the paper cup around half full of water to her sister. She took a small sip, “thank you.”
Stephanie smiled at her. She looked at Matthew. “Thank you for being here with me, Matt. Seriously.”
“Oh, please,” Ratajczyk dismissed her, “I’m always available.”

The affection between Matt and Stephanie was evident, and it often permeated the atmosphere so as to make strangers passing by suddenly feel the vague, unplaceable urge to vomit. Luckily for Miranda, who was seated upright in her bed and quite literally had nothing to do but watch the young couple gaze into one another’s eyes, she was quite fond of her younger sister and wanted nothing more than to see her happy, and she saw the good in Matthew (now more than ever) and wished them nothing but the best. So she sat there sipping her water as they stared, and just in case everyone in a two mile radius hadn’t already noticed, Stephanie spoke:

“I love you.”

And of course, Matthew replied:

“I love you too.”

May 2, 2014
10:07 AM

Matthew Ratajczyk pulled into the driveway of his Illinois home.

He was greeted by the familiar creaking stairs, and the slightly uneven second floor. Everything was exactly as he had left it. Clothes at the top of the stairs, drawers open, an opened water on the nightstand. He walked into his room and closed his eyes.

Finally… He was surprised at how happy he was when he realized he was in genuine silence. No beeping, no chatter, nothing. He was home alone, and he was finally at peace. After a stressful few days, Matthew was happy he was able to finally take a moment and slow down.

He picked up his still wet clothes from earlier in the week. “Shit. That’s gonna stain.”

10:50 AM

“-yes, I’ll be careful. Of course. Tell her I… Oh hey, Miranda. Haha, you’re welcome. No, nooonono, please don’t even think that. I would drop anything and everything for you Marsons. Heh, right. Okay, bye now, I’ll see you at Thanksgiving! … Hey. I love you too. I’ll see you soon.”

Matthew put his phone in its receiver. “Ahh, that should be everything, right? Got my wallet. My hat. My phone. My keys. Yep, that should do it.”
He got in his car.

“Only nine hours… Only nine episodes of Game of Thrones… Jesus Christ…”

He pulled out of his driveway, hoping that he wouldn’t have any reason to return for the next six months.

May 3, 2014
1:18 PM

“Wait, are you serious?”

Matthew Ratajczyk was in his manager, Desmond Jacobs’, office. After leaving without anything but an email saying “personal matters,” Jacobs was livid.
“Yes. I am dead serious. This is your *(censored)* job, kid. You don’t have any excuse to miss a game.”
“No excus- What? Are you for real? My girlfriend’s sister wa-”
“Ahhhh! Don’t give a shit. You’re sitting for at least the next week. Maybe more. You’re riding the bench until I’m not annoyed with you.”
“You can’t be serious.”
“I am, and you’d better shut the *(censored)* up, or I’ll have you sent back to single-A.”
“You know what: fine. I made my cake, and I’m prepared to eat it too.”
“What?”

Ohhh that boy better like cake

May 3, 2014
6:46 PM

“Alright, ladies, you know the drill! We’ve already taken two of three from these pansies, so let’s get out there and win another one!”

Desmond Jacobs, delivering his usual pregame speech, seemed to be in a pleasant mood, as his volume knob was down a few notches. Matthew Ratajczyk sat arms crossed and rolled his eyes, but Jacobs either didn’t notice or didn’t care. Drungo Hazewood, who hadn’t touched the field in a week, was clearly paying no attention to his manager. In fact, only a few members of the Lookouts remained attentive.

“Let’s go guys!” yelled Vincent Snow, who had been filling in for the injured Yates Douglas. His encouragement was emphatically ignored.

“Anyway, here’s the lineup.”

1. M.J. MacKenzie - 2B
2. Danilo Ribeiro - SS
3. Alvin Barron - 3B
4. Django Washington - 1B
5. Keyshawn Phillips - RF
6. John Farmer - DH
7. Robert Tomlinson - CF
8. Josh Randall - C
9. Vincent Snow - LF
SP - Aaron Nunez

May 3, 2014
7:14 PM

A light rain filled the spring Chattanooga air. Just enough to be an annoyance. The Lookouts took their positions, fully expecting a win against the struggling Tennessee Smokies.

After throwing his warmup pitches, Aaron Nunez called Josh Randall to meet with him on the mound.

“Ball’s real slippery today. Switch it out every three pitches or so, would you?”
Josh nodded, “sure thing.”

“Play ball!”

Right off the bat, it was clear that Nunez and Randall weren’t on the same page. After shaking off the first three pitches Randall called for, Nunez threw a curveball that hung up in the zone. A sharp crack and a stiff wind blew past Josh’s face. He watched the ball land in the alley and the Smokies’ leadoff hitter cruise into second with a stand-up double. “Dammit, Aaron…” Josh said under his breath. Nunez dug his foot into the mound and readied himself for pitch number two. In dug the Smokies’ second batter, a lanky left handed outfielder named Doug Bikowski, a notoriously patient hitter.

Josh signalled once again--a fastball up and in. Nunez shook his head. Josh flashed two fingers and tapped his left leg. Slider down and away. Nunez agreed and went into the stretch.

Ball one.

Nunez’s third pitch was indeed the fastball that Randall had been asking for. Too high, ball two.

Bikowski fouled off the next two pitches. Josh asked for a new ball and threw it back to his batterymate. He rubbed his hand on his pants, ineffectively trying to dry it off. Josh signalled, Nunez agreed.

He slipped. Coming off of the mound, Nunez lost his footing but managed to hold onto the fresh ball.

“Balk!” barked the umpire. Suddenly the Smokies had a runner on third with no outs. Concerned, Josh called for a timeout and walked out to the mound.

“You alright?” He asked
“Yeah, I’m fine. Just… Just get back there. Let’s strike this bastard out.”
“Hah! That’s the way.” He tapped him on the chest with his glove and ran back behind home

Alright, Bikowski doesn’t like to swing at bad pitches… So let’s give him something to hit. Josh decided a changeup down and out was his best bet at getting Bikowski to hit a weak grounder that would hopefully keep the man on third. Nunez agreed. The 22 year old delivered a changeup right where Josh wanted it.

“Ball three.”

Nunez’s next pitch, a slider well out of the zone, resulted in a walk. Bikowski trotted to first base.

The power hitting Ian Van Vekken stepped into the right-handed batters’ box. He can’t hit sliders for shit. Randall remembered. Let’s give him one of those.

As Nunez began his delivery, Randall noticed Bikowski turn and begin running.

Shit!
______________________________________________________________________

What ever shall Josh do? May his owner PM ppfan with a decision or forever hold his peace.

May 3, 2014
7:33 PM

Shit! Josh thought as he noticed Bikowski trying to steal Not happening.

Aaron Nunez’s sharp slider whipped into the zone, Ian Van Vekken stood back and watched it zoom by. “Strike!” the umpire called with an energetic point to his left. Josh sprung to his feet and unleashed the ball across the diamond.

The moment he noticed the pitcher squatting, the Smokies’ leadoff man bolted for home.

He touched home standing without contention. Josh couldn’t do anything but watch as the ball sailed over the head of a jumping MJ MacKenzie. Robert Tomlinson picked the ball up in center and casually threw it to Danilo Ribeiro.

No outs and a runner on third, Lookouts down 1-0.

After the throwing error by Randall, Nunez gave up a single and a sac fly before striking out the next two batters. Josh approached his pitcher on their way back to the dugout.

“My bad, man. Ball’s real slippery today,” he told him.
“Yeah, I think someone told me something like that once.”

Josh smiled at Nunez’s dry humor, although the Lookouts’ starting pitcher didn’t return the favor.

Down 2-0, the Lookouts looked to bounce back from the early deficit. Leadoff man and second baseman M.J. MacKenzie was unable to get the rally started, grounding out to third base on the first pitch he saw.

Guess it’s up to me, then. Danilo Ribeiro thought to himself as he twirled his bat on his way up to the plate.

On the mound for the Smokies was a pitcher by the name of Maurer. He featured a mid-90s fastball with inconsistent offspeed stuff, mainly including a changeup and a curveball. Ribeiro, knowing this, went up to the plate looking for a fastball. He got it, and smacked it right up the middle for a one out single.

That’s how we do it. Bring me home now.

An imposing figure in Alvin Barron strolled coolly to the plate and stepped in. At 6’3,” 220 pounds, he waved his 35-inch bat around like it was a toothpick. Maurer stepped off the mound and fired one over to first. Ribeiro dove back in plenty of time and popped up quickly. He pulled his helmet off and flipped his hair back. A young woman in the stands screamed. Ribeiro offered a wink and turned his attention back to the game.

Come on, man, just pitch the damn ball.

Maurer obliged, getting ahead of Barron with a fastball on the outside edge. Barron didn’t blink as he stepped out and took a few practice cuts. Maurer stepped back onto the rubber as Barron stepped into the box. Set. Pitch. Ball one.

Ribeiro looked to his third base coach. Come on, let me take second here. The third base coach tapped his hat twice and swiped down his right arm. No dice. Maurer delivered the 1-1: an inside fastball. Barron turned on it and cranked it deep to left center field. Danilo knew right away it wasn’t getting caught. He turned and ran, circling second and heading for third.

You’ve got to be kidding me. The Lookouts third base coach had his hands up, signalling for Ribeiro to stop at third with one away. No way. I can make it, he thought has he approached the bag.
________________

what do? Owner of Ribeiro, please let JP know through PM, thanks

May 3, 2014
7:47 PM

Against his better judgment, Danilo screeched to a halt just past the bag. He looked out to the outfield as he retreated to third. The ball was just getting into the cutoff man thirty feet onto the outfield grass.

Bullshit. I would’ve been safe.

Django Washington, the first baseman in Matthew Ratajzcyk’s absence, stepped up to the plate. It was clear immediately that the Smokies wanted nothing to do with the man who was pounding the ball at a .297 clip and led the Lookouts in homers with seven. They pitched around him, and he didn’t even get a chance to take the bat off his shoulder as he drew a five pitch walk.

Keyshawn Philips, though not the tallest player on the Lookouts (the 6’7” Django Washington had all of one inch on him), was far and away the biggest. At 275 pounds, he had a good 40 on the next heaviest player (Drungo Hazewood). Although some of that weight was, to put it one way, bonus weight, he was also the strongest player on the team and carried his weight with grace, much like his older sister, who was already one of the top professional softball players in the country.

With the bases loaded and one out, Keyshawn sauntered up to the plate and settled in. Maurer came set and let the first pitch fly. 95, high and tight. 1-0. The next pitch, another fastball, nipped the low inside corner. 1-1.

Keyshawn had always been a little bit of a guess hitter. He figured now was a good time for a guess. The way he saw it, he had three decent options to choose from:

A. An inside fastball
B. An outside fastball
C. An offspeed pitch
____________________________________

Which one should Keyshawn choose? PM me pls.

May 3, 2014
7:51 PM

Keyshawn Philips was a well known jokester, but that didn’t mean he didn’t take baseball seriously. He knew from studying the scouting report on Maurer that he wasn’t confident in his off-speed stuff. So with the count even, he ruled that out.

He also knew that the first two pitches of the at-bat were inside fastballs. Seldom does a pitcher throw the same pitch three times in a row. So he ruled that out as well.

Fastball outside it is then.

Keyshawn settled into the box. Maurer got his sign from the catcher and came set. He kicked his leg high, and delivered the pitch: a fastball headed for the outside half of the plate.

It never had a chance.

Keyshawn, in all his massiveness, had more than enough power to take a pitch the other way. The ball left his bat like a shot, sailing high into right-center field. Both the center and right fielders turned, but made no more than a few stops toward the general direction of the ball. The crowd went nuts as it cleared the wall with ease, putting the Lookouts ahead 4-2. Keyshawn raised his fist in the air as he rounded the bases, grinning from ear to ear.

May 3, 2014
10:20 PM

Despite all the run scoring and excitement of the first inning, the score remained 4-2 through eight innings of play.

After Keyshawn Philips’ grand slam, the Lookouts offense fell silent, amassing just four hits over the next seven innings. Meanwhile, Aaron Nunez kept the Smokies’ bats just as quiet, getting through six strong. After that, Ryota Masuda pitched a clean seventh (extending his scoreless streak to 17 innings out of the ‘pen) and Scott Smith danced out of danger despite a double and a walk in the eighth (evidently, usual set-up man Drungo Hazewood remained on Desmond Jacobs’ shit list).

All this set the stage for Michael Montgomery, who trotted out to the mound seeking his seventh save of the season. He took his time throwing his warmup pitches, as he always did.

“Let’s move it along now, 13!” the ump barked from behind home plate. Michael flashed an irreverent wave and settled into his wind-up for pitch number six.

“All right, this next one’s coming down,” ordered the umpire. Michael held his arms out after getting the ball back from Josh Randall.

“Blue, that was six!”
“I’ve got seven. One more.”
“Are you serious? Josh, back me up here.”
“It’s not worth it. You’re loose,” replied his catcher. “Two!” he shouted at the infield.
“*(censored)*’ figures,” Michael muttered to himself.

Michael wound up again and snapped off a knuckle-curve into the dirt. Randall picked it cleanly without batting an eye and whipped it down to second base.

In order to extend his save streak to seven (his first and only blown save was on Opening Day), Michael would have to go through the 4-5-6 batters in the Smokies. He made quick work of the clean-up man, setting him up with a pair of 92 mph fastballs on the corner and striking him out with a nasty slider. It took him just two pitches to get the five hitter to fly out to Robert Tomlinson in shallow center, leaving him just one out away from putting the Lookouts over .500 for the first time all year.

In stepped the Smokies’ six hitter. He dug in from the left side of the plate while Michael stepped on the rubber. Josh called for a fastball inside and low, and Michael hit his spot perfectly. The hitter, however, pulled his hands in and yanked the ball down the right field line. Keyshawn Philips got to it quickly and in to M.J. MacKenzie on the edge of the infield, holding the runner at first.

Michael took a short walk around the back of the mound before settling onto it. He came set and fired a fastball to the Smokies’ seven hitter, a righty, for strike one. The next one missed high, and his 1-1 slider missed outside. He came back with another slider that fooled the hitter, who swung and missed, but his first attempt at a putaway pitch, a knuckle-curve, bounced before it got to the plate.

With the count full and two down, the runner at first would have the advantage of moving with the pitch. Michael removed his cap and wiped a bead of sweat from his forehead before pushing his hair back and putting it back on. He leaned in for the sign. Randall put his index finger down once, then twice, before tapping the inside of his left thigh. He wanted a fastball up and in. Michael, however, wasn’t so sure.
_______________________________________

Should Michael listen to his catcher or shake him off? PM me with your decision.

May 3, 2014
10:30 PM

Michael Montgomery had already been burned by listening to his catcher once in the inning, and he didn’t have the most confidence in his fastball. He preferred to pitch with finesse. So, he shook his head no. Randall put two fingers down, calling for a slider. Michael shook his head no again; this guy had already seen his slider twice, he couldn’t count on it fooling him a third time.

That left one option, unless Michael was hoping to experiment with a new pitch. Randall put three fingers down and tapped his right thigh. A knuckle-curve, low and outside. A risky pitch on 3-2, but it was what Michael wanted. He nodded and came set.

The ball felt good out of his hand, and it had a lot of movement. The batter was clearly fooled, and he started to swing as the ball tailed away from him. Realizing his mistake, he tried his best to stop halfway. Randall caught the ball just off the outside corner and immediately turned to the home plate umpire, asking him to appeal the check swing to first. The ump obliged, asking his partner for the call.

All eyes turned to the man in blue standing behind first base. He made a “safe” motion, in this situation of course meaning no swing. He was met with boos.

With runners now on first and second, Michael returned to the mound to face the eight hitter. Perhaps a little annoyed by the call, he hurled a fastball as hard as he could, and it leaked right over the middle of the plate. The batter lined it into left field, where Vincent Snow fielded it cleanly. He crow hopped and launched the ball home, where Randall caught it on the hop and tagged the man attempting to score.

“Safe!”

The boos picked up once again. It was unclear, this time, if they were directed at the umpire, Snow, or Michael himself. Normally, Robert Tomlinson, who possessed one of the best arms on the team, played left field, but of course the injury to Yates Douglas had caused him to slide over to center. So now, with still two away, the tying run was on second base with the potential go-ahead on first. Josh Randall called for time and trotted out to the mound to talk to his pitcher.

“Hey, relax. Their nine hitter is up. Just get him out and let’s go home.”

Josh didn’t give Michael a chance to talk back, as he then turned and ran back behind home plate. Michael, working quickly now, fired a fastball over the plate for strike one. The Smokies’ hitter then chased a slider to run the count to 0-2.

Michael, now one pitch away from getting out of danger, leaned in for the sign. Randall wanted another slider. Michael nodded and snapped off a good one.

“HUWAH!” The umpire rang up the hitter with conviction, stranding a pair of runners and securing the win for the Lookouts.

Final Score:
Smokies - 3
Lookouts - 4