Date: Fri, 22 Jun 2012 04:50:51 +0000
From: Douglas DD DD <thehakaanen@hotmail.com>
Subject: The Big Time   Chapter 8

Welcome. In this chapter we continue the State Tournament game
with the boys in high school. Going back to middle school we find out
more about Marty's issues and learn about a couple of boys who are
developing a crush on each other.

There is no sex in this chapter, but you will learn more about some of
the boys of Mayfield and their relationships with each other.

The story is mine. Be 18 to read and be safe at everything. And
please, donate to Nifty to keep the stories coming.

Please email me at the thehakannen@hotmail.com. My email box
has been empty and is looking to do something useful...like having
email in it.


State Semi-final Mustang Lineup

1. Jerome-Center Field (Senior)
2. Noah-Second Base (Junior)
3. Rich-Shortstop (Senior)
4. Marty-Third Base (Senior)
5. Scott-First Base (Junior)
6. Vince-Designated Hitter (Senior) (hitting for Kraig-Right Field)
(Junior)
7. Kevin-Catcher (Junior)
8. Eric-Pitcher (Junior)
9. Hunter-Left Field (Junior)


CHAPTER 8
SLIPPING AWAY

Here we were in the top of the fourth inning, playing a State
Tournament semi-final game against the undefeated Grant Valley
Jackrabbits, trailing 4-0, and actually thinking we were in a position to
win. Now that I was getting my head screwed on right I remembered
why I love these guys. They finally had me thinking the same thing;
that we were going to win, and considering the hole my mind was in
when I stumbled out of bed this morning, that was an amazing
change in my thinking.

Well, if you've been in sports for a long time then you know that it isn't
a good idea to get too happy when you're competing, especially when
you're behind by four runs almost half-way through your game.
Happiness has a way of coming around and biting you in the ass. At
the same time I seemed to be learning my own personal lesson, we
still had a lesson to learn as a team and the top of the fourth was
going to be our teacher.

The first batter was Paul, the Jackrabbit pitcher. He was batting in the
six hole and had walked his first time up. He was the runner Marty
doubled off of second when he made his great diving catch.

On a 2-1 pitch Paul hit a dribbler to Marty at third which Marty had to
charge hard. He made a good pick-up, but Paul was running all-out to
first. He was surprisingly quick for a big guy. Of course, looking back
at it, we all knew that Marty should have eaten the ball, but
sometimes competitive juices say otherwise, and Marty made a
hurried throw to first that went over Connor's head and ended up
bouncing off the concrete wall in front of the stands and rolling along
the wall towards the bullpen. Before Kraig could come from right and
get to it, Paul ended up at second. The Jackrabbits had a man in
scoring position with nobody out and we knew we couldn't afford to
give up another run. It was time to suck it up and get out of the jam.
My teammates had covered my back for the first three innings; it was
time for me to return the favor.

It seemed almost too easy when I got the next batter to strike out
looking on a sweet change-up. The next batter was the one who hit
the home run off of me in the second. I was still trying to figure out
how I gave up a home run to the number eight batter in a ballpark
that was 335 feet down the line. Our home field is 318 down the line
which seems plenty big enough to me. I would say that Marty and
Scott, and maybe Carl if he was healthy, were the only players we
have with the power to reach that 335 mark without a bit of help from
the wind, and they are in our three and four power spots. On the
other hand I did throw him a pretty fat pitch.

This time, however, he hit a sky high pop-up to left on an 0-1 pitch. I
watched Hunter camp under it and then move around some and
finally get his glove up in front of his face. It was obvious that he had
lost the ball in the sun. It was even more obvious that he hadn't taken
his sun glasses with him to the outfield. He finally started
backpedaling, which was akin to death for an outfielder. Sure enough
the ball dropped behind him. The runner on second saw that Hunter
was in trouble, but didn't gamble that Hunter would miss the can of
corn and stayed close to second. When the ball dropped in he could
only make it as far as third. The batter ended up at second with a sun
aided double. The Jackrabbits now had runners on second and third
with one out.

Coach had the infield come in for a play at the plate. The strategy
almost paid off when their number nine hitter grounded to Rich at
short. But Rich didn't field the ball as cleanly as he needed to and his
throw to the plate was offline allowing the run to score. It was now 5-0
with runners on the corners. Things were unraveling in a hurry.

The leadoff hitter for the Rabbits was up. Coach told the ump he
wanted to put him on, so the ump awarded him first base. This now
gave us a force at home. Bases loaded, one out, and the game felt
like it was getting out of control. There was a lot of noise coming from
the Jackrabbit fans as well as their dugout. I think the Jackrabbit
players and their fans were sensing the kill.

We had the infield in again knowing we couldn't afford to give up any
more runs. I took some deep breaths. I had to throw strikes and I had
to throw good ones. The two hole batter for the Jackrabbits had
tripled and struck out in his two times to the plate.

Coach Sanders came out of the dugout and headed for the mound
and Kevin came from behind the plate. This was his second visit in
four innings and I know he wasn't happy about it. A coach gets three
free visits during a game and Coach Sanders didn't like using his
visits early. Noah arrived from second just ahead of them. He was
always there for one of my mound conferences. Usually Marty, as
team captain, was the infielder who wandered over, but he knew how
I liked having Noah there when I was pitching and he usually hung
around third kicking the base staring into the stands or up at the sky.

"Keep it low, see if we can get a grounder," Coach said. He knew
when I was throwing well my pitch had a good sink to it and led to a
lot of ground balls.

"He's yours kid," Kevin said. "Sinker on the inside part to start."

"Wind-up or stretch?" I asked Coach Sanders.

"This is a team that likes to overpower their opponent. I don't see
them playing for a single run. I see them going for a lot of runs at
once so they can ten run us, so I'm not worried about a squeeze.
Besides we have the infield in. Go ahead and pitch from the windup."
The stretch was how a pitcher kept a runner close to his base.
Pitching from a windup allowed the runner to wander farther away
from it.

Coach Sanders reminded everybody in the infield to go home if it was
an easy play, but to be sure to get an out no matter what. A lot of
teams, including ours, had a way of getting excited and forgetting
how important getting an out was.

Kevin and Coach left the mound. Noah gave me a pat on the butt and
said, "Remember, it's all about focus." Noah is probably the only high
school player in the state who would leave a mound conference
talking about focus.

The noise in the ballpark was reaching a high level as their fans were
really raising the decibels. There was some noise from our side, but
we hadn't given our fans much to cheer about. As I got ready to
engage the rubber I swore I could hear a loud, deep voice yelling,
"HOOF `EM, ERIC!" I smiled inside. Whether I heard right or not I
knew my good friend the Donkey was in the stands and cheering for
his alma mater and for me.

My first pitch showed that Coach Sanders was right. The batter was
so eager to get four runs in at once that he took a huge swing at my
sinker and generated a lot of air but no contact. The next pitch was a
tummy-tucker as I went inside to keep him off of the plate. While I had
to throw strikes I also had to pitch smart. I had enough confidence in
my control to send him a little message about crowding the plate. He
took another big swing on the next pitch, barely getting a piece of it
and fouling back against the screen. The count was 1-2.

The next pitch was one of those pitches that happens to every
pitcher. If you are a pitcher you know that most pitches leave your
hand okay. You're pretty sure you did everything right and you threw
a decent pitch. Some pitches you're just not sure about and some
pitches when you let go you know you screwed it up. Then there are
those pitches that, as soon you release it, you know you threw the
pitch exactly the way you wanted to throw it, that the pitch was nearly
perfect.

Now that doesn't mean the results are perfect, since hitters have a
way of hitting even your best stuff, but you know you threw the
absolute best pitch you could throw. That is what happened on my 1-
2 pitch, which looked like it was coming in fat, but then the bottom
dropped out just as the hitter swung. But he was a good hitter and he
got enough of it to send a hard grounder to my left, a two hopper right
to Noah.

Noah fielded it cleanly and fired right to home for the force, and
Kevin, not hesitating for a second, threw it to Scott at first to get the
batter by a step. It was a thing of beauty to watch, a gorgeous
second-to-home-to-first double play that took the Jackrabbits out of
the inning. Suddenly all of the noise was coming from our side of the
ballpark. I pumped my fist, knowing it couldn't have been done better
at Safeco Field by any team. My pitch had done exactly what it was
supposed to do.

Of course even the best moments have their downside and as I
walked across the foul line their first baseman passed me. "You
faggots got lucky, but don't forget who's ahead." If he'd just reminded
us he was ahead I would have been okay with it, that's part of the
game. But the faggot part got to me, just like the whole party
atmosphere in their dugout in the second had gotten to me earlier.
Apparently what I had to say to him last inning at first didn't register
with him.

I was ready to say some smart ass comment back when I
remembered what Coach Sanders said about these kinds of situation.
"Talk's cheap," he would tell us. And Noah liked to remind me that
karma had a way of coming back and biting someone in the butt.
Whatever, this time I said nothing and walked to the dugout like I'd
never heard anything, although I know that he knew that I had heard
every word.

Noah led off the bottom of the fourth. When it came to baseball
smarts the three smartest players on the team were Noah, Kevin, and
me. Hell, Noah was up at top when it came to any kind of smarts.
Now, if I saw a little 5'6 kid like Noah come up to the plate and I was
playing third I'd be playing him in. I mean how hard is he going to hit
the ball? Besides, small kids seem to love to drop down bunts. A lot
of smaller boys liked to take a walk, too, using their small strike zone
to their advantage. That is their reputation. But while Noah never
turned down a walk to get on base, he was an aggressive little hitter.
We were all eager to see that he had in mind to lead off the inning.
Like everybody else at the top of the order he'd struck out his first
time up.

Marty was the first to point out where the third baseman was. He was
playing Noah deep, his whole attitude seeming to day, "You can't hit
our pitcher, so I'm going to sit back here and watch you strike out
again." Noah saw the situation just like the rest of us did. Coach
Sanders didn't give us a sign to bunt our way on or anything like that.
He left it to us. In fact he pretty much left the first five innings to us.
Almost all of his signs were decoys. "But I own the last two innings,
and it would be best if you never forgot that."

Noah didn't keep us in suspense. On the first pitch he dropped a
perfect bunt along the third base line. All the third baseman could do
on a hit like this was charge in and leave the ball alone hoping it
would go foul. Who knows, it might have done so, but the attitude of
the Jackrabbits was too arrogant to do that. It now seemed to me to
be saying, "Bunt all you want, but I'm going to throw your little ass out
at first." He picked up the ball and then made the first Jackrabbit
mistake of the game as he threw a ball to first that he should have
eaten, just like Marty had done in the top of the inning. Only Marty's
mistake was one of being a little overeager, while this mistake was
just plain dumb since Noah was almost at first when he threw it.

When all of the dust settled, Noah was on second as a result of the
single and error. Rich followed that up with a ground out to second,
advancing Noah to third. Sure it was a productive out, but we were
down by five and needed all of the hits we could get. Still, we were in
a good position to score our first run.

Now Marty, our cleanup hitter, was up. Marty had his own brand of
baseball smarts. Maybe baseball instincts would be a better term. He
had a way of reading situations and coming through without analyzing
things the way Noah or I did. He took the first pitch down the middle,
getting his timing down. Not a bad idea considering their pitcher was
still throwing nothing but heat. The next pitch was like the first, only it
ended up bouncing off of the left field fence as Marty got it all. As he
chugged around the bases the left and centerfielders ran it down and
by the time they got the throw to the relay man Marty was heading for
third. Marty and the throw got there at almost the same time, but
Marty made a great slide to the inside of the bag to avoid the tag and
was called safe. Noah scored easily off of Marty's triple and we had
our first run.

Scott was up next and he didn't even bother to let a pitch go by. He
lined the first pitch up the middle for a run scoring single. Our fans
were now getting very noisy and that noise went up a few notches
when Vince blooped a single to right and Scott made it all the way to
third. We had runners on the corners and one out.

With Kevin the next batter I was supposed to go out on deck, but
Coach had Danny go out instead. Since nobody was warming up I
knew I'd be going back out to pitch the fifth and Coach wanted me to
not worry about hitting. Running the bases wouldn't be a problem
since he would have used a courtesy runner for me if I had been
hitting. I should have been disappointed, but Danny was a good hitter
and a good friend and I was happy he was getting a chance to get
into the game.

Kevin hit a fly to center that scored Scott and we were suddenly
within two. A game that had been on the verge of a blowout at the top
of the inning was suddenly a contest. Danny ended up striking out
and we ran out on the field now down by only two runs at 5-3.

A good pitcher stops the other team after his team has scored and
the time had come for me to show that, faggot junior or not, I was a
good pitcher and I was determined that the Jackrabbits were not
going to score.

++++++++++

<Seventh grade-Monday, July 2)

Both the eighth graders and the seventh graders had "home" games
Monday evening.  For the Mayfield seventh graders home games
meant playing in Centralia, one of the reasons Eric had the idea of
organizing the Go to State group. The Mayfield boys should be
playing their home games in Mayfield, not on a field in another town
45 minutes away.

Monday was yet another day in which things happened that would
affect the future of boys in the group. On this day there were two boys
who were affected by happenings of the day.

One of the boys was Marty. He didn't get out of bed until after 11 in
the morning as he still needed to sleep off the effects of Steve's
Saturday night kegger. He made his way to the kitchen wearing just
his boxers, his hair a mess of cowlicks and tangles. He was hungry
for the first time since the party. He opened the refrigerator wondering
if he should have breakfast or make lunch. He decided on lunch and
got out the fixings for a couple of sandwiches.

As he made two sandwiches from leftover meatloaf and various
condiments he noticed his hands were shaking a little bit. He didn't
find that too weird since that sometimes happened the day after a big
drunk but he couldn't remember it happening two days later.

He opened the refrigerator to find something to drink with his
sandwiches and reached for the milk. The milk carton shook in his
trembling hands as he lifted it out of the fridge. He could see the
usual array of beer bottles on the bottom shelf and thought a beer
sounded much more pleasing than a glass of milk. Sure he had a
game in the evening, but it wasn't even noon yet. One beer was not
going to affect his play and it probably would actually help him. A
beer or two had stopped the shaking in the past, so it should work
today. He'd be sure to clean his mouth with plenty of mouthwash
before leaving for the game.

Marty replaced the milk and pulled out a bottle of beer. His parents
knew that he and his brother John, who would turn 15 in a couple of
weeks, took beers out of the fridge regularly and didn't have a
problem with it as long as it didn't get out of control. He sat on one of
the bar stools at the kitchen counter and started eating his sandwich
and drinking the beer. The beer and the food made him feel better as
the edginess left his mind. After finishing his first sandwich he looked
at his hands. He could swear they weren't shaking now, or at least
they weren't shaking as much.

He gulped down what was left in the bottle and decided a second
beer with his second sandwich wouldn't hurt anything. After all, he
was eating at the same time so the beer shouldn't affect him that
much. As he finished his second sandwich and beer his brother came
in.

"Hey, bro, welcome back to the world of the living," John said. "You
slept the whole day away yesterday and I was thinking I'd have to
wake you up before game time today."

"Well, you didn't. I'm wide awake."

"So I see. Must have been one hell of a party. That's as hung over as
I've ever seen you. What the fuck were you drinking, anyway?"

"Steve made these things called B-52's. They are beer and..."

John interrupted him with a laugh. "Oh, I know what those fuckers
are. They can make for a killer drunk. Little boy like you better be
careful with those so you don't get alcohol poisoning or something."

Marty glared at his older brother. "I'm not a fucking little boy. I'll be 14
in two months so shut up."

It was then that John looked on the counter and saw the empty bottle
of beer. "Whoa, drinking beer the day of a game. That's not the
smartest thing to do."

"Just shut up and mind your own fucking business. It makes me feel
better, okay?" Marty was glad that John didn't know the bottle was
second beer. It isn't any of his business anyway, he thought.

"Whatever. I'm just trying to be a good big brother and tell you maybe
you ought to cool it before somebody tells you to do it."

"Why, you gonna rat me out to mom and dad?"

"I don't think I'll need to. Dad will figure out just exactly what you are
when it comes to alcohol. I mean it takes one to know one."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Marty asked angrily.

"Think about it."

Marty drained his bottle of beer, flipped his brother off, and went to
his room. He saw that he had both a text message and voicemail
from Rich on his phone. He deleted the voice mail without listening to
it. The text said, "what happened at party call me"

He wants to know what happened so he can fucking ruin my life,
Marty thought. Everything that happened at the party is his
goddamned fault with all of his gay shit. Sucking cock with him, and
fucking his butt. Worse, him fucking my butt. Trying to turn me into a
fucking faggot. And then all this kissing and "Oh, I love you, Marty,"
crap. Just like a fucking fairy and he makes it so I can't get it up when
I finally have a chick ready to fuck me. Well, I know what I want to tell
you about the party, queer boy---I hate your guts because of that
party. Fucking faggot can't even hang around---too many girls makin'
him nervous. No way I'm gonna keep being friends with that fairy.

The big problem for Marty was that Rich was his ride to the game.
He, Vince, and Connor were supposed to ride there with Rich's mom.
While Marty's parents came to just about all of his games, because of
their work he had to ride with his Mayfield teammates to the game. It
was Rich's mom's turn to be the driver. He did not want to be in the
same car as Rich. For Marty it was bad enough they were on the
same team.

They would be picking him up at four and it was almost noon now. He
decided he needed to jerk off. As far as he knew he hadn't had a cum
since Friday night; nobody told him if he had a cum at Steve's house.

That would be the shits, he thought. Couldn't get it up with Becca, but
could cum while sucking three different cocks, all because of Rich
and everybody at the party turning him into a faggot. Well, he didn't
care, he was going to jerk off now. He pulled off his boxers, lay on his
bed, put his soft cock in his hand, and brought up thoughts of Becca,
naked on the bed and begging for his big cock. What happened next
wasn't what he was planning. His cock stayed soft and he ended up
falling asleep.

Marty woke up at two and decided to jerk off and then shower. But he
still couldn't get his mind focused enough to jerk off ,so he showered,
put on fresh boxers and went downstairs to watch TV until he had to
get ready for the game.

John was doing something at the computer when he got downstairs.
"Feeling better yet?" his big brother asked turning on the swivel chair
so he could look directly at his brother.

"Like you care," Marty said.

"Whatever." John turned back around and went back to whatever he
was doing at the computer. Marty turned on the television and
channel surfed, wishing his brother would leave the room. That didn't
happen, so he sat on the couch watching stuff that bored him. Life is
so fucking boring I can't stand it, he thought.

He looked at his brother. He had played on the JV football team as a
freshman last fall, and would probably play on it one more year. He
was in good shape and was tough, like their dad. He'd been in his
share of fights over the years going back to when he was a little kid.
Like Marty he enjoyed his beer and liked to party, but he didn't make
drinking beer a daily ritual and unlike Marty he rarely drink alone.
Marty wasn't much of a fighter, which sometimes bugged his dad who
thought Marty should get into a fight occasionally just to prove he was
a manly boy.

Marty and John had played around sexually, but not frequently, and
had been doing so less and less over the past few months. John had
a drinking buddy, Tanner, who was also a sophomore. The two were
admittedly bed buddies, but each had a girlfriend and used each
other to take care of blue balls rather than as any kind of lovers.

Marty looked at the clock and realized it was time to get ready for his
game. He went up to his room wondering if his breath still smelled
like beer. He thought about asking John, but knew he'd get a raft of
shit from him so he didn't bother. A nice dose of mouthwash will work
just fine, he thought.

He was ready to be picked up about ten minutes before Rich was
due. He sat on the front stoop with his equipment bag and bat bag in
front of him on the sidewalk. He was not looking forward to this ride to
Centralia. Maybe Eric had the right idea about getting select teams
back to Mayfield, but he was going to do it without Marty's help. Marty
was becoming more and more sure that he didn't want anything to do
with Eric's group. He didn't like the idea of having a seventh grader
bossing him around and had better things to do than get involved with
a project that would never work.

A mini-van pulled up in front of the house and Marty grabbed his stuff
and put it through the open hatch in the back. He shut it, opened the
sliding door and was happy that Connor and Rich were sitting in the
middle seat. He went back to the third seat, hoping nobody would
want to talk to him.

Rich was apprehensive about the ride as well. Marty had been
uncommunicative since Rich had left the party and he knew how
moody Marty could get. He decided to open the line of
communication.

"Hey, Marty." The answer he received was a bad-natured grunt. Rich
decided to stubbornly push on. "Ready for a big game today?"

"Look, I'm here and that's all you need to know," Marty growled.

"Wow, aren't we in a good mood today," Connor said.

Marty wanted to tell Connor to go fuck himself, but he figured he
didn't need to piss off Rich's mom, who was driving. On top of that
Connor tended to intimidate him. Rich's little brother Mikey was in the
front seat, a boy Marty thought was cute in spite of himself. They
stopped at Vince's house. He dumped his gear into the back and then
sat next to Marty. The moms of all of the boys except for Marty traded
off car-pooling. Marty's mom couldn't get off work to be part of the
pool, but on the rare days the team played on a day she had off she
was willing to help out.

"Great party Saturday, huh, Vince?" Connor said hitting on a topic
that neither Marty nor Rich wanted brought up. They both sensed this
was why he brought it up. Diplomacy was not a strong-suit of
Connor's.

"Yeah, it was fun," Vince said. "I had a really good time."

"Too bad you had to leave," Connor said to Rich.

"What party is this?" Rich's mom asked.

Rich wanted to strangle Connor and Marty was ready to be right
behind him in line. "Nothing mom. Steve on the varsity was having
this party and I stopped by. It was pretty lame and I didn't know many
kids and so I left."

"Is this what you came home all upset about?" she asked.

"Mom, I don't want to talk about it right now, okay?"

"Okay, but I would like to know what this is all about and why you
were so upset."

"Later, okay?"

"Okay, honey."

Rich was more than ready to strangle somebody, anybody now. He
hated being called "honey" especially in front of his friends and
teammates.

Not much more was said on the rest of the trip except for some
inanities about the game as the atmosphere stayed tense between
the boys. Marty was worried that Connor or Vince would somehow
tell Rich what he had done at the party, Rich was afraid to say
anything at all to Marty, and Connor and Vince were unsuccessfully
trying to figure out how to embarrass Marty without embarrassing
Rich.

They finally reached the Centralia Recreational Center. The boys
unloaded their gear and headed for Field #2, which had a dirt infield
which allowed 80 foot bases to be placed on the infield.
"Want to throw with me?" Rich asked Marty. He almost wished he
hadn't, because he was afraid the answer would be no, but he felt he
had to ask. He had good reason for thinking that as Marty said he'd
go warm-up with Eddie.

Eddie was one of the Centralia boys, a boy Marty didn't know well
and felt comfortable warming up with since he figured Eddie didn't
know him very well either. At least he wasn't pissed off at Eddie like
he was at Connor, Vince, and Rich. He was pretty much pissed off at
everybody, but he blamed those three for being assholes and that
made him feel justified in his anger.

The Centralia team ended up winning 6-4. Marty had two errors in the
field and struck out his first two times up. He was wondering if the two
beers he'd had with his lunch were affecting him in some way. He
didn't feel any kind of a buzz, but he couldn't help but think that
maybe drinking the beers wasn't a great idea. As he went out on the
on-deck circle in the bottom of the fifth he swore he would never drink
a beer on a game day again no matter what time it was.

His turn at bat changed his attitude some, however, as he lined a
single up the middle on a 2-0 pitch. As he changed his gloves at first
he thought that the beers weren't an issue after all. He'd hit that ball
right on the nose. He'd been playing shitty because he was all pissed
off, and the reason he was pissed off was Rich's fault more than
anybody's. If Rich hadn't tried to make a fairy out of him, he'd have
been able to fuck Becca at the party, and wouldn't have gotten so
wasted that he ended up sucking off four boys. He still couldn't
believe he'd done that since he still had no memory of it. He was sure
they were lying to him.

What he also couldn't believe was getting picked off first base as his
mind was on everything but what was happening on the base paths.
He walked off the field even more pissed off at Rich, whose actions
had kept him from concentrating on the game. He could not figure
why he had decided being friends with Rich was so important.

"Tough break kid," Eddie told Marty as he entered the dugout.

"Get your head in the game," the coach told him at the end of the
inning when he came back from the third base coach's box. Marty
mumbled "whatever" under his breath as he grabbed his glove to run
out on the field. The coach stopped him and sent Geoff out to play
third instead which put Marty in an even worse mood. The coach then
got on Marty about his attitude. Marty did his best to stare out into
space, not looking at the coach, and making it obvious he was not
listening to him either. In other words, he was being a sulky 13 year
old.

After the game the coach had a quick meeting, telling them there
would be no practices before their Friday game because of the Fourth
being on Wednesday. As Marty went to pick up the gear he'd left next
to the fence Rich made the mistake at one more try at reconciliation.

"Hey, Marty, look, if I did something to piss you off I'm really sorry."

Marty glared at him and all the anger that had been bubbling below
the surface all day came boiling right out of him. "Fuck you and the
horse you rode in on, Rich. You go trying to turn me into a fucking
faggot like you are, you leave me at the fucking party, probably so
you could go home and fuck your little ten year old brother like the
fairy you are. You're probably trying to turn him into one too. Oh no
you didn't piss me off, you just did everything you could to try to fuck
up my life. So go home to your brother and fuck the shit out of him
and leave me alone. The worst thing I ever did was let you be my
friend."

Standing alone fighting tears, Rich felt like everybody on the team
was staring at him. If they knew how close Marty was about what
happened between him and his little brother Saturday night he would
be totally fucked. Rich still didn't know about Marty's failure to get it
up trying to fuck Becca or about his sucking off four boys at the party.
All he knew was he wanted to find a place that was private to let the
tears he was fighting flow freely.

"Wow, Marty sure isn't the one to talk about who had what kind of sex
on Saturday," Connor said with an almost evil snicker.

The group broke up, hoping that the parents and coaches hadn't
been close enough to hear Marty's outburst. The four boys who had
ridden to Centralia all rode home with their own parents.

Rich sat all the way in the back of the van sulking. Mikey was riding
back in the car with their dad. Rich had wanted to ride back with his
dad to avoid nosy questions from his mother, but somehow it didn't
work out that way. That's pretty much the way the whole day has
gone, Rich thought, forgetting that his team had won an important
game.

"Rich, just what is going on between you and Marty?" his mother
asked.

"Mom, I don't want to talk about it so just don't ask okay? Just
don't...ask." Rich left out the "F" word just in time. Rich's mother
shook her head, wondering what had gotten her normally even
tempered son so worked up. She'd been told there would be days like
this with a tween like Rich, but so far she seemed to have avoided
the problem.

As for Marty, he stretched out across the back seat of his dad's car,
his head turned towards the seat back, his face out of his parents'
sight, and let the tears flow down his cheeks.

Neither Marty's mom nor dad said anything to him on the trip home
other than saying it was a nice win. They knew Marty's moods better
than anybody. When he got like this his dad often got the urge to stick
him over his knee and beat some sense in him. But for all of his faults
as a parent his father rarely got physical with either of his sons,
except some would perceive as well-deserved spanks on their bare
asses when they were younger. All Marty could think about was what
an asshole Rich had been all evening and how many beers above his
allotted two he could sneak up to his room.

The other boy to be affected by the happenings of the day was Kevin,
who was affected in a much more positive way. Kevin's select team
home game was being played on the high school JV field. It had a
skin infield that could handle the 80 foot bases that his team played
on.

When Kevin saw Lars walking through the complex his heart sped up.
He had no clue why this happened whenever he saw Lars, but it did,
and he liked the feeling. He'd had kind of a boyfriend for a few weeks,
a boy a year younger named Justin. He had taught the then 10 year
old some things about sex and was infatuated with him, but the two
found they really didn't have a lot in common and the friendship
quickly cooled off although they remained on good terms.

But with Lars it was different. His heart-rate sped up when he saw
him, when he jerked off Lars was usually the object of his fantasies,
and even when he had sex with his brothers his mind would latch
onto images of Lars. The party at Noah's, Lars staying at his house,
and him staying at Lars's house were already summer highlights.

It would no doubt make his heart beat even faster if he knew that Lars
had the exact same feelings about him. When Lars saw Kevin and his
twin brother Kraig together there was never any doubt which of the
two was Kevin. When he saw them apart, he knew when he was
looking at Kraig and when he was looking at Kevin. Kevin was the
one whose eyes were lit up and bright and the one with the huge
smile every time he looked at Lars. What Lars didn't know is what he
was seeing was the result of Kevin's infatuation with him.

Some would call the feelings between the two of them 12 year old
puppy love. They didn't know what to call it because they really didn't
know that their mutual infatuation was really a deeper love. What they
did know was they couldn't get enough of being around each other.

Lars and Kevin picked each other as warm-up partners as they had
been doing almost since they had become teammates on the select
team. Kevin started the game at catcher, with Lars starting in left
field. Eric was the starting pitcher for the game, going all the way in a
relatively easy 6-1 win.

After the game and the post-game meeting Lars asked Kevin if he
could spend the next two nights at his house. They had a home game
on the Fourth and Lars thought it would be great to have Kevin stay
over with him.

"You should've texted me or something earlier," Kevin said. "I didn't
bring any clothes or anything. I want to stay bad but I can't even wear
your clothes since probably nothing would fit."

Lars's face reflected his disappointment, but that lasted for less than
a minute. "But, I have an idea maybe even better and my mom
already said it's okay," Kevin said.

"What?" Lars thought Kevin was going to invite him to Mayfield
instead, which would be really fun, but he wanted to have Kevin for
himself without Kraig around. He knew that sounded selfish, and he
liked Kraig, but he wanted a couple of nights with just Kevin.

"Well, Kraig is going to soccer camp next week. He'll be gone from
Sunday to Saturday. I thought you could maybe spend the whole
week until we leave for Oregon on Friday." Their team was going to
an invitational tournament in Salem, Oregon, the next weekend,
which Kraig was going to miss because his camp wouldn't be finished
yet. Missing the tournament disappointed Kraig, but he loved soccer
and was good at it and he'd planned on going to the camp long
before he had made the select team. He'd gone to the same camp
the year before and had really enjoyed it.

"Wow that sounds awesome. I'll ask my mom and let you know
tonight."

"Ask her now, then our moms can talk it over."

That is how they worked it out. It was decided that Lars would go to
Mayfield with Kevin's family after their Saturday double header and
would return from Salem with his own family after the tournament was
over.

That night both boys snuggled into their own beds, thinking warm,
and yes, sexy thoughts about their new best friends. They both felt
that if they only lived in the same city everything would be perfect.

Next: The Fourth