Pipe Crew XVIII

Thank you all for your patience. I hope to write the next chapter a bit faster.

We had Friday off and then Saturday was the double header games that would decide who would play for the State Championship. We would travel to Corvallis to play on Coleman Field at Goss Stadium on the OSU campus. It was close enough to be a home game for us. Our opponent was LaGrange, who had to travel across the width of the state to get there. The winner of our game would take on the winner between Coos Bay and Roseburg. Jack Baldwin would be our starting pitcher and he was 8-2 and the ace of our staff. LaGrange was the least regarded of the final four teams. They had gotten hot late in the season and beat a top ranked team from Treasure Valley and then Pendleton, the only other good teams from eastern Oregon.

We were playing the early game, Coos Bay and Roseburg would play the second game. The two winners would play the next day for first and second, the two losers would play for third and fourth. As we warmed up, I started in center field. There was a chance I might get to pitch late in the game, but this was Jack Baldwin’s last high school start. If we won, I might start on Sunday. If I pitched a lot on Saturday, I might not even pitch on Sunday. I was pulling for Jack to have a great start and pitch a complete game.

The game was scoreless into the fourth inning. Then a LaGrange batter slapped a grapefruit flair that landed ten yards in front of me and I scooped it up and halted him at first. Jack had a rare lapse in concentration and walked the next batter. With no one out and two runners on, I didn’t dare look into the dugout. I would not give Coach Harris the opportunity to call me in for long relief. Jack got a strike out and then a fly out, putting us in good position to get out of the inning without damage. The very next batter put on a suicide bunt with both runners going and a bobbled throw from our catcher, James Baldwin, loaded the bases. The next batter in the LaGrange order was their best hitter, Rocky Richardson. With the initials “RR” someone got the bright idea to call him “Train”. Train had been smoking the stat sheets, batting close to .450 against the weak pitching in the eastern state league. I remember Richardson was bound for Boise State in the fall on a three sport scholarship.

“TIME OUT!” came the cry from our dugout. Coach Harris trotted out to the mound. He gave his right arm a pat and pointed to me. I trotted in, fearful that Jack was being sent to the shower.

“Tell me the truth Jack, are you gonna get Richardson?”

“Yes sir, I’m fixing to derail the Train.”

“If you don’t think you can get him, let me have Paul David pitch to him and you take his spot in centerfield.”

“Nah Coach, I got this. We need the kid to start tomorrow for the championship. I can get Richardson.”

I wish I could tell you Jack was right, but that would be a lie for that at-bat. Jack started the Train with an outside ball and then hung a curve in the middle of the plate as pretty as you please and Richardson hit it so hard I thought it might hit one of the high-rise dormitories down the street. 4-0, LaGrange. Their fans were going wild. I got the sick feeling we weren’t going to win.

Jack never bowed his head. He just stared at Train as he trotted around the bases and held his mitt out for the next ball. I glanced in at Coach Harris and he stood in the back of the dugout, arms folded across his chest. When the ump handed a new ball to James Baldwin, he looked into the dugout and Coach clapped twice and shouted, “Alright Baldwin. Let’s get to work.” James fired the ball out to his brother on the mound and Jack went to work.

In our half of the fourth, we managed to score three runs. We trailed 4-3 until our half of the eighth. Lagrange didn’t get another runner on but we did. We just couldn’t get a runner across the plate to tie the score. In the bottom of the eighth, I came to bat first. I looked down the line at Coach Harris and he gave me the sign to take. I watched the first pitch sail across for a strike. I glanced toward first and saw the take sign again. The second pitch nipped the corner for another called strike. I looked again, I saw the green light. I don’t know what coach was playing at but I did know that if I were pitching to me, I would throw anything near the plate. As the pitcher raised his leg in the windup, I squared around to bunt. It worked like a charm, I saw the hitch in the windup as the pitcher attempted to adjust and the ball sailed out of his hand right toward my shoulder. I waited until the last second, then turned my shoulder into it and bailed, getting tagged in the process. It stung like a bitch, but I got waived down to first.

Coach Harris smiled. “I gave you a green light.”

“I got here didn’t I?” I grinned back.

“Yep, you sure did. Don’t stick around too long.”

“No problem coach. “ I didn’t take much of a lead, not even pretending to get into position to steal. The Lagrange pitcher eyed me, brought his hands to his belt and strode toward the plate. For the entire game I had I studied the arm movement of the catcher. He had a hitch in his throw back. He’d false cast his arm movement and double clutch his throws. That was all I needed to see. As soon as the pitcher raised his foot on his next delivery, I took off. The yells of his teammates caused his adrenaline to pump and he fired a high one, causing his catcher to leap out of his crouch to stab it. A catcher in that position should have been in position to gun me down, but I was fast and that catcher had to false cast before firing. I slid in head first and the ball hit the second baseman’s glove well after. Now I was in scoring position with no outs.

The pick-off move from the mound to second is hard to make. Few pitchers do more than take their foot off the rubber to keep the runner at second anchored. But I wasn’t going to steal third unless there was a passed ball. I took two short steps off the bag and waited for the sound of ball meeting bat. I’d hold on a fly and go on a single. I knew I could score on nearly any legitimate single.

Now that he was rattled, the pitcher ended up walking the man behind me, bringing Jack Baldwin to the plate. A single would tie the game; a double would put us ahead. Jack fouled off nine pitches in a row, staying behind in the count 0 and 2 until the tenth pitch. The tenth pitch was a hard shot that lined passed the pitchers ear who had to duck to keep from being beaned. It went right over second about five feet off the ground and landed just in the grass behind the infield sizzling toward the centerfielder who was charging the ball. At the crack of the bat, I was off. The ball hit the ground and I hit third, rounding for home. The throw from centerfield was going to be late. Instead of cutting it off and trying to pick off the runner making for second, the centerfielder was trying to gun me down. The ball skipped once in the grass between the mound and the plate and the catcher charged forward to hold the runners at first and second. I crossed the plate before the ball reached the catcher. Tie game: runners on first and second.

The rest of the game went our way. We ended up winning by 5, 9-4. Jack held on for the complete game win. I would be pitching for the state championship against Roseburg who had won 1-0 over Coos Bay in one of the tightest pitching duels all season.