Chapter 5 chapter Five

When Bill pulled up outside our house in his old Buick on Saturday morning, I was already down the driveway, leaning on the mailbox and waiting.He was surprised and delighted to see me, but he was silent for at least five minutes after we drove up the road.Then he kept his eyes straight ahead, nodded several times in a row, and then said: Brother, I am very proud of you. Well, I think it would be wiser for you not to jump to conclusions now.I'm not sure I understand what I'm doing, and I'm not sure if I'll last a season.Bill, I'm likely to break my word and disappoint you, and I'll be running away with my tail between my legs before long.In case I can't go on, you have to be mentally prepared, please be sure to understand this.

Bill reached over and grabbed a clipboard from the child seat beside him and handed it to me.Last night I typed up a list of all the players who applied for the season, so you can take some notes when you grade the kids at test meetings.The red number in front of the name will appear on the cardboard attached to the back of each child's clothes. When coaches and managers judge the qualifications of players, it is easier to identify each child's identity, and it is more convenient to write shorthand comments or scores.This is the first attempt this year.When it comes to Monday night's draft, the process should be a lot easier, and it's bound to be a lot faster.

What do the numbers after each person's name represent?I asked. That is the age of the child.Let me brush it up for you, the so-called magic date is August 1st.Children who are nine years old before August 1st and under thirteen years old after August 1st can join, that is to say, the eligible age is nine to twelve years old, and it has always been like this from before to now.There just so happened to be no nine-year-olds signing up this year, but there were about as many ten-, eleven-, and twelve-year-olds. Some names are underlined.What does it mean? Bill grinned.Well, I guess the other three managers are more involved than you, because they have lived here for many years and they know most of the kids.Plus, all three were managers last year and it's clear which players have talent.The twelve underlined names are the best players in my opinion.The three names with two lines drawn are top pitchers, at least as far as I remember how good those three kids were last year.But this team is yours, he said, patting me on the knee, and it's up to you to pick the players for this year's Angels.

It is true, but you are also willing to provide me with your old experience, right? If you need it, of course, he said, with a smile on his face. In the Little League parking lot, as soon as we got out of the car, I could hear kids yelling, laughing, calling for their mates, accompanied by the almost rhythmic, thud of a leather glove catching a baseball.It's still early, but it's clear that the kids who signed up for the test sessions are mostly on the field early, each doing whatever drill they think is necessary to get the attention of a manager or coach. It was one thing for me to follow Bill into the quiet, empty arena the other afternoon, but it was all the more difficult to bear.I didn't know what I was expecting, but these children looked, sounded, and behaved the same as those of my companions back then. Nearly thirty years ago, this place was the world's first place for me. holiest place.I closed my eyes, listened to the sounds on the field, and tried to remember my first Little League test.I was nervous and scared a few days after my ninth birthday, and my dad drove me to the course in his pickup truck.In the parking lot, just before I turned away from him and ran to the infield for the first time in my life, he held out his hand and said to me with a smile: Son, broken leg! (Annotation: break a leg!, a superstition in the British and American theater circles. The wish prayed before the performance will be contrary to the fact. If you directly wish others a smooth performance, you may cause bad luck. I wish the show a successful performance. Today it is also used in everyday life, to express good luck.) I understood what he really meant, because this strange slang phrase appeared at the dinner table one day, and the Mother Wan patiently explained to our father and son that this is a common phrase used by performance workers to wish each other a successful performance before they go on stage.Break a leg!

John? I open my eyes.Bill frowned a few yards away.Are you OK? I shrugged and nodded.He pointed to the dugout behind first base.While there is still time, let's go meet the cadres of the alliance for a while. Stewart, the president of the Bradland Little League.Rand was not a familiar face, because he was the director of a local savings bank, and Sally and I had met him when we went to open checking and savings accounts.He got up from the bench in the dugout as we approached, and held out his hand to me before Bill could speak.Mr. Harding, I can't express how happy everyone is about having you in the league.We all welcome you with open arms and offer our deepest condolences.Thank you for your willingness to dedicate your time and effort to our children, teaching so much about the game of baseball.With you coaching, leading, and setting an example, I believe the kids will become better players and citizens.Forgive me for talking so much, he grinned: but everything I say is from the bottom of my heart.You are a very special person. I am very happy that the alliance can recruit you.

I thank you vaguely.Bill then introduced me to the league's secretary and accountant, Nancy.McLaren, then the three directors, then the managers and coaches of the other three teams, and several parents. After the introduction, after a while, I forgot all their names. The whistle hanging around Chairman Rand's neck finally blew sharply, and the players stopped throwing the ball and running in response, and sat down in the first few rows of the stands behind the rest area noisily.The parents scattered around the grandstand also began to move to the rows of seats behind the children to wait for the lecture. The chairman of the alliance patiently waited for everyone to sit down, waved and nodded to the person who called his name.When the chattering finally subsided, the chairman raised his right hand and said in a loud voice: Good morning, parents, players and friends of the Bran Little League.My name is Stewart.Rand.I am the league president this year, and I welcome you to today, the beginning of the forty-fourth season of the town's chartered Little League.The significance of this is that over the years we have sent thousands of Bran children into the arms of the world with pride, and we expect all children to have in their hearts the qualities of teamwork, fair play, courage, persistence, discipline, etc. Has shaped them into better adults, better citizens.

Stewart.Rand paused for a while, then continued with a smile: There are a lot of things to do in the next few hours. We rely on the generous help of the managers, coaches and parents of various teams in the league, and we will try our best to give every player a chance in the strike zone. , Infield and outfield show their skills one by one.Moreover, while the children are consuming energy on this historic stadium, the manager of the fourth team, who will shoulder heavy responsibilities in the next two months, will also walk around the stadium to observe and judge the performance of each group of children, and Putting it on the record so that when we draft Monday night, we'll have four good contenders for the season's twelve great games for the championship.

Bill and I, along with the managers and coaches of the other three teams, stood behind Rand.Bill turned around and said softly: I'll meet you later.Then he walked slowly towards the chairman of the alliance, Rand. At this time, Rand just said: Now I hand over this morning to my old friend and an old friend of many people present, Bill.West, let him arrange all the activities of the day. The activities of the test meeting continued until after noon.Each player can swing a few times at the plate and hit it on the right pitch from one of the coaches, who are so skilled that they have a way of getting pitch after pitch into the strike zone.Six kids took turns crouching behind home plate as catchers during this lengthy batting test.During the hit test, each time a group of four went to the infield, they were instructed to walk to the fielding position of their choice and catch every ball that was hit at them.While the infield tested hitting and fielding, another coach and a parent stood just outside the sideline deep in right field, hitting a lob to a second group of kids.About forty-five minutes later, the outfield group entered the rest area, then went to the field to hit, and then went to the infield to take their positions.On the field, two large formations were in order, while a small group gathered on the sidelines behind the first basemen's dugout, where a set of pitcher's and home plates were placed.For more than half an hour, the testers threw the ball at the players who signed up as catchers, while the managers of the four teams watched intently.Usually, at the request of a manager or coach, one of the kids on the field will be called over to throw for a few minutes. Hit the base at a high angle.

It wasn't until near noon that I had a chance to discuss it with Bill.He took the bat like a golf club, and he swung it up to me as he walked, and he said, "Well, boss, any ideas?" I handed him the clipboard in my hand and said: It is difficult to truly judge the strength of all the children for a few hours, but I still tried to give them a score from ten to one, plus a few cursory comments to help I was thinking about some of the kids at the Monday night draft. He spent a few minutes studying my notes, nodded, and handed it back to me.John, the way I see it, you don't need any advice from me.How is the pitcher observing?

I handed him the scoreboard again and said: I have marked the most promising candidates and arranged them in order of vote one and vote two, but everything must depend on the status of the draft.Whoever gets the No. 1 pick will definitely take the player I marked 1, and he's the best of the lot. Bill nodded.You are absolutely right.Todd.Not only is Stevenson the top pitcher in the league, last year when he was eleven years old, he accumulated more than 400 hits, hit five or six home runs, and could hold first base when he was not pitching.He is very special.Didn't you just say that you rate children from one to ten?

right. But there's a kid's name next to it, and you didn't write anything, he said as he returned the clipboard to me. I know.Thirty-six.May God love him, the boy is so small, slow, and uncoordinated, that he really doesn't know what to write about.Still, he hasn't thrown in the towel, running around, missing pitch after pitch while swinging in the strike zone, and doesn't seem to be disheartened by it.do you know him? Bill leaned over the clipboard and glanced at it.Timothy.Nobel.do not know.Must have been the family that had just moved into town. I pointed to the group of kids in center field who were still taking turns catching the coach's fly balls.Bill, third from the left.Wear loose pants.did you see it?It is clearly stated in your list that he is eleven years old this year, but he is the thinnest in the audience. While we were talking, the little skinny guy stepped out of line, and the other players turned to watch, nudged each other, and snickered.Apparently it was Skinny's turn to catch the next fly.He leaned forward, knees buckled, fisted with his right hand, hitting the glove on his left hand hard and again. Oh my god!I almost screamed half-yelled. What's wrong? Did I miss something?Bill asked, scanning the entire outfield. It's all right. How could I tell him that Timothy is not much bigger than my beloved seven-year-old son Rick?Noble, squatting down and leaning forward, ready to catch the ball, looks almost like a replica of Rick from a distance.The coach swings a long parabolic fly at Timothy, and Timothy spins futilely under the fly, flailing his arms skyward.As the ball fell, he swerved first to the left, then to the right, and started to run, but somehow his feet got tangled and he fell headfirst on the grass as other players not far away leaned together , almost huddled together, several people covered their mouths with their hands, trying to hold back their laughter. A few minutes later, the kid missed another fly ball that was hitting him and landed several feet away.He ran over, picked up the ball, and threw it back toward the hitter.As it turned out, the ball landed within forty feet of where Timothy was standing, and the other kids turned their backs and laughed.Timothy immediately wiped his eyes with the back of his right hand. He is indeed very small, Bill said, you just said, how old is he in the list? Eleven years old. Alas, Bill sighed, no matter which team he ends up on, he will be a big challenge for the manager and the team.There's a good chance he'll be the last player picked.However, according to the rules, he must play every game, stay in the defensive position for at least six outs, and play at least one strike.No matter what position he is in, even if he only played two innings, any ball hit towards him will probably lead to a considerable loss of points. We looked up to Timothy who was ready to catch the ball again.Nobel.This time he overruns and a high, slow-moving fly falls behind him.As he managed to stop abruptly, his battered sneakers slipped on the grass and he fell, stumbling and rolling to the side.However, he immediately jumped up, brushed off the grass clippings on his sweatshirt, firmly pressed down on the visor of his old baseball cap, and ran a few steps towards the batting coach. The ball was thrown back, so hard that he fell backwards.The ball drew a small arc in the air, landed, rolled and rolled on the grass, and finally stopped at the feet of the coach who was in charge of hitting the ball.Seeing this, the bystanders cheered and applauded mockingly at the same time.Timothy.Noble turned around and took off his hat to his booing companion. Look at this kid, Bill, I said softly.He is smiling.