Power Pros Forum

Bump ^^^^ please continue this

Hey, not a bad idea.

Okay

April 15th, 2014
4:54 PM

Tomlinson kicked his feet out from under him and slid, trapping the ball between his glove and the ground. The umpire, getting the call correct, ruled the batter safe at first, despite the center fielder’s best attempts to sell the play as a catch. Tomlinson returned the ball to the infield, and Ryan Taylor worked his way out of the inning, despite allowing another single to the three hitter.

When Tomlinson returned to the dugout, Desmond Jacobs praised him.

“That’s a good play there, no need to get cute when Taylor’s not pitching like ass.” Ryan shot his manager a look.

Meanwhile, M.J. MacKenzie stood on the field, mentally preparing himself for his second at-bat. He watched Heaney throw his warm-up pitches, absent-mindedly adjusting his batting gloves and singing quietly to himself. He decided on a hitting approach.
__________________________

What is that approach? PM Tweav. Or message him on Facebook. Or call him. Everyone knows this is your character.

April 15th, 2014
5:10 PM

“Jesus Christ… BLUE, HOW MANY GODDAMN WARMUP PITCHES YOU LETTING THIS KID HAve?! I mean for God’s sake, it’s like we’ve been standing here for months!” Manager Desmond Jacobs screamed to the rather portly umpire behind home.
He shrugged
“This *(censored)* idiot…”
Jacobs walked back to the dugout, patting M.J. MacKenzie on the shoulder as he walked by. “Don’t *(censored)* this up” he said.
MacKenzie was visibly shaken.

First pitch is probably the best option... MacKenzie thought as he took his final warm-up swing and walked towards the box.

Andrew Heaney had been tearing through the Lookouts' lineup like it was tissue paper and MacKenzie was looking to do anything he could to get on base.

Oh god, he needs to throw me something to hit first pitch… Mackenzie thought once again, his bat now on his shoulder. The umpire let out a guttural “PLAY” that sounded more like a “HWUH” and with that the game finally resumed.

Heaney entered his rather plain-looking windup and M.J. tightened his grip on the bat. The ball remained steady.

Fastball!

MacKenzie jumped on the first pitch and roped it to left field. The fielder fielded it on a hop. M.J. was met with a high five from the first-base coach and a loud applause from the dugout.

After the applause died down, Danilo Riberio walked behind the catcher and stood in the left-handed batters’ box. He looked towards the third base coach. A quick double tap of the belt followed by a touch of the brim. He was to drop a sacrifice bunt. This was to be expected of course, so he had to make sure he did it well.

Heaney started off with a sharp curve that Riberio watched drop in for a strike. Nonetheless, the General’s third baseman charged the plate. This only confirmed Riberio’s suspicions that they were suspicious.He looked again to his third base coach. Still a bunt? Why?

Andrew Heaney released a strong fastball that was a bit outside for ball one. Riberio didn’t offer at that one either.

On the third pitch, with the count now even at 1-1, Heaney threw a slider that Riberio bunted right down the third base line. Oh no! he thought as it rolled quickly into the third baseman’s glove. He motioned for second but fumbled the ball a bit in the transfer.
He gave an audible grievance and instead chose to take the sure out, and threw it to first.

“Now batting for the Chattanooga Lookouts, third baseman, Alvin Barron!”

The stoic Barron took a practice swing before stepping up to the plate.
Heaney was finally starting to sweat and wiped his forehead before he took the mound.

As he released the ball, his eyes widened.

The ball was quickly approaching Alvin Barron’s head.

What does he do?

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holy shit it’s back!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
anyways, could the owner of Alvin Barron please PM dtigers? tysm

[insert statement that doesn't accurately reflect the actual excitement I have about this]

We're excited you're excited.

I'm excited as well!

The ball's coming at his head?

SWING, GODDAMMIT!!!

OHHH MOTHER YES!!!

Yes let's go!!!!

I Got A HIt!!!

April 15th, 2014
5:18 PM

Alvin Barron knows no fear.

When he was five, he snuck out of bed late at night and found Friday the 13th playing as he flipped through the channels. He watched it right up to its gruesome, violent end. He slept like a baby.

“I saw a cool movie last night, Mom,” he said the next morning.

While the rest of Mrs. Allen’s fifth grade science class coiled at the prospect of dissecting a cat, 11-year old Alvin Barron coolly went ahead with a project, earning himself a bit of extra credit for his bravery.

“Alvin did it,” they said. “Just went right ahead and did it.”

In April of his sophomore year of high school, the 16-year-old baseball star went right up to the best looking senior girl in the school and asked her to prom on a dare. She said yes.

“Alvin Barron’s going to prom with Miranda Whitley - yes, that Miranda Whitley,” was the talk of the school for nearly a week.

Six years later, a 22-year old Alvin Barron saw a 94 mile-per-hour fastball screaming towards his head.

Alvin Barron knows no fear, he thought, raising his shoulder slightly to protect his face but hardly flinching as he took the hit by pitch. It just barely grazed his shoulder, deflecting upward and hitting him square in the side of his helmet. He chucked his bat behind him and jogged to first without a glance at the pitcher, the dugout, or anyone else at AT&T Field.

“C’mon, Matt, we need you here kid!”

Matthew Ratajczyk sauntered up to the plate. With runners on first and second and one out, the #34 prospect in the nation needed to give his team a lift. Instead, he beat a first pitch change-up into the ground - 4-6-3, and just like that the inning was over.

That 4th-inning threat wound up being the last legitimate chance the Lookouts had at scoring, as they failed to get a runner past first base the rest of the game. Ryan Taylor worked seven strong innings but allowed two runs and was hit with the loss.

Final Score:
Generals - 2
Lookouts - 0

Oof, so close to winning that one.

Very good writing, too. I've enjoyed reading through the updates.

April 25th, 2014
3:57 PM

Five-foot-nine-inch Pablo Santiago held a level head atop his shoulders. Always a big fan of routines, he started most of his days in the same way. Wake up at 7:30 sharp, eat a light breakfast, go for a mile run, take a shower, turn on the news, and then go about the rest of the day. He wasn’t one to break schedule and was never late to anything.

On this day, though, he was running a little late.

After a series of events well out of his control, during his midday lunch run, Pablo ended up on the receiving end of a bat to the stomach. “Oh, it’s nothing,” he told the profusely apologizing child that hit him, though it was an obvious lie. Santiago made his way back to his car and, thinking about his stomach rather than the road, ended up driving back home instead of to AT&T Field, where the Lookouts played.

“¡Mierda!” he yelled, the buzz of his car’s engine uncaring to his plight. He turned around in his driveway and drove down to the field.

The incredibly poorly lit hallway that led to the Lookouts’ home locker room was as dim as it was long. Pablo rushed down the seemingly empty hallway. On his way to the locker room he heard some mumbling and then some incomprehensible yelling coming from one of the hallways that jetted off the main one, he decided to investigate.

He put his bag down and peaked around the corner to see the imposing frame of Luis “Drungo” Hazewood standing in the corner yelling into his phone. After a long silence, Drungo sighed and said, “Just forget it.”

He slammed his outdated flip phone shut and turned around. His eyes caught fire as his line of sight fell upon Pablo’s wide, unblinking eyes. All of Hazewood’s 230-pound figure launched itself at Santiago, his enormous hands gripping Santiago’s arms and shoving him against the cold brick wall.

“You. Heard. Nothing.”
“I didn’t hear a word!”

That was, of course, a lie; Santiago had heard three words, but he truly had no idea what Hazewood’s conversation had been about. Hazewood didn’t seem to care as he released Pablo, dropping him back to his feet and storming off into the clubhouse.

Pablo Santiago stood in shock in the hallway. A minute later, Josh Randall walked in.

“Everything all right out here?”

Pablo looked the man over, unsure of what to say.

What does he tell him?
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Could the owner of Pablo PM me? pls and ty

You guys are amazing at this