Date: Wed, 1 Aug 2012 19:56:38 -0700
From: Douglas DD DD <thehakaanen@hotmail.com>
Subject: The Big Time  Chapter 19

Welcome back. We have all of the usual disclaimers that have
accompanied every chapter. Also, please donate to Nifty to keep the
site up and running.

In this chapter the Mayfield Mustangs are an out away from winning
the state title when...well, I guess you can read and find out what
happens. Some of the boys also decide to take a bike ride and ask a
familiar name to be their coach for next summer. While there is no
sex in this chapter, there is still a lot happening amongst the boys of
Mayfield.


State Championship Game Mayfield Mustang Lineup

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


CHAPTER 19
COACH SANDERS

<Junior year, Pasco, State A Baseball Tournament.

We were in the bottom of the seventh of the Class A State
Tournament championship game and we were holding a 5-2 lead. We
were three outs away from winning Mayfield's first State
Championship in 14 years and three outs away from winning the first
of what we dreamed would be two straight championships.

Rich, our closer, was on the mound. He was a senior who was used
to tight situations and we all had total confidence in him. Coach
Sanders made some other changes as well. Justin substituted for
Noah who had pinch hit for Danny. The cute sophomore would be
taking over at shortstop for Rich, who was now pitching. Justin had
proved himself more than once to be an excellent fielder, with good
range and sure hands. Plus he was smart, even for a sophomore.

Lars would be getting his first action in the tournament, replacing
Kraig, who had pinch-hit for Rodney. Lars would go to right field. Both
Kraig and Lars were good fielders. Kraig had a better arm and was
probably a little more sure handed, but Lars was quicker, turned on
fly balls over his head better, and had a bit of a longer reach. Going
back on a fly ball is one of the more difficult plays for an outfielder.

I was happy with either one out there and was even happier that Lars
was getting into the game. Coach Sanders had now used all 15
players on the roster; everybody on the team was given a chance to
contribute to the championship game in some way.

From the first pitch it was obvious that Rich was too amped. His first
pitch was a fastball that was thrown way harder than he needed to
throw it. It was so high Kevin couldn't reach it and it went to the
backstop. The second pitch was lower, but still very high. That pitch
prompted Kevin to step in front of the plate to signal Rich to slow
down a little. Slowing down meant both his pitches and the pace of
the game. Rich was simply trying to make things happen too fast.
Right when we needed some senior poise from our pitcher we
seemed to be getting a case of mild panic.

The next pitch was a curve in the dirt and the fourth one was one of
those "fuck it, I'll walk him and start over on the next guy pitches"
rather than an attempt to come back and work the batter for a
possible out.

The thing that was really scary is that the first three hitters were the 6-
7-8 hitters, a trio Rich should be able to handle fairly easily.

The number seven man was up and he had struck out twice in his
two at-bats. Rich started him out with a strike, his first of the inning,
but then threw three straight balls that were nowhere near the strike
zone. That prompted a visit from Coach Sanders. He was joined at
the mound by Kevin and Marty, who was not only the team captain,
but was Rich's boyfriend. For the second straight game one of our
pitchers had his boyfriend on the mound with him during a
conference.

Coach Sanders said the usual stuff about slowing down the game,
proper mechanics, getting focused, then went back to the dugout.
Marty and Kevin held back a moment and I took a few steps in from
second to see if I could catch what they were saying.

"Dammit, Rich," Marty said. "you've dealt with me all these years, so
those assholes at the plate shouldn't be a problem."

They both looked to see what Kevin had to say. His one word
comment was, "Amen." Kevin then turned back to the plate just as the
umpire came to break up the conference. Rich had to turn around to
fight off a grin. It was the first time since he'd taken the mound that he
looked at all relaxed. I gave him a thumbs up when he looked in my
direction.

This is what I love about this team, that kind of closeness. It was a
closeness that wasn't an accident and one that winning and losing
couldn't replace, even if it was for a State Championship trophy. We
have all loved each other since middle school and worked together as
a group of friends to get to this point. That love and friendship was
irreplaceable in my mind.

Rich threw a strike to make the count full, but then lost the batter on a
close pitch. He had now walked the first two hitters and just like that
the tying run was at the plate.

The Logger coach brought in a pinch-hitter for the nine hole batter.
Rich went right after him, getting a called strike and then a swinging
one. The batter looked overmatched and it turned out he probably
was as Rich had him swinging way late on a fastball up in his eyes on
the third pitch. One out, two more to go for the title.

But the Loggers now had the top of the order up and their leadoff
man, who had already singled, wasted no time slapping a ball
through the infield between third and short. Marty, who felt that any
ball hit in the same zip code where he was standing was his, cut off
Justin and made a nice scoop, getting the ball to me covering second
just in time for the force. I had no chance to make the pivot for a
double play. Once again Marty had made an outstanding play in the
field. We now had two outs with just one more needed to be state
champions.

"ESPN," I said to Marty as we turned to go back to our own positions.
Marty had come up huge, both on offense and on defense in the two
State Tournament games.

The runner on second advanced to third on the play and the batter
took first on the fielder's choice. So the situation was now runners on
first and third with two outs. With two outs our infield was back.  Marty
and Connor guarded the foul lines to try to prevent an extra base hit
up the lines, a not infrequent occurrence for a hard hit ball along the
baselines.

The Loggers' number two hitter was up. He was zero-for-two for the
game with a walk. Both of his outs were strikeouts, but we knew he
was a good hitter or he wouldn't be hitting in the two hole. The
number two hitter was usually like me, someone who makes frequent
contact, who punches out singles, but if he gets hold of pitch could
crunch it into a gap. He was a lefty and we shifted our defense
accordingly.

Rich threw a strike on the first pitch and came in low on the second.
The situation changed some on the second pitch as the runner on
first went to second with no throw from Kevin. This is called defensive
indifference, where the potential run doesn't mean anything so the
defense doesn't bother to prevent the steal. The only problem with
the play, or lack of play, is that it takes away the force at second and
the opportunity to make the kind of play Marty and I had just made to
get the second out.

The Loggers now had runners on second and third, two outs, and a
1-1 count on the batter. I could hear the voices of my teammates
(including my own) chattering away at Rich. "Come on kid, you got
him here"...He's yours kid"..."Nothing but strikes"...and so on. I don't
know how much Rich could hear because the noise from both sides
of the stands was incredible, as the fans of both teams were totally
revved up.

The next pitch was fouled back to the screen and Rich now had the
advantage with a 1-2 count. I could see that Kevin wanted an outside
fastball, low in the strike zone. He wanted to see if they could get the
batter to turn on it and ground the ball to me or Connor.

Rich put the pitch where he wanted it and the batter did turn on it, but
instead of the grounder coming to me or Connor it had "eyes" and
managed to find a way to get right through the hole between us for a
single. The runner on second had to hold at third, but the score was
now 5-3, with two outs, and the tying run on first base.

Since the run on first was the tying run it meant something and we
couldn't just ignore it. Now Rich had to throw over to first to keep the
runner close so he couldn't get a good jump to steal second base.
Kevin had to be ready to make the throw to second if the runner
decided to go. The only problem with making the throw to second is
that it set up the opportunity for the runner on third to score. Kevin
looked over to the dugout for a sign from Coach Sanders, which he
promptly received.

Kevin then stood in front of the plate and gave us the signal for the
play. I wasn't surprised at what it was; Kevin called for the number
two cut-off play. Since their number three hitter was also left-handed,
this meant that when the throw went down to second on the steal
attempt, Justin would go over to cover second on the steal as he
normally did, and I would hook into the spot between the mound and
second to cut off the throw. The idea was to entice the runner on third
to break for home and then possibly catch him off base for the out.
The number one play had the pitcher as the cut-off. The number two
was a tougher play to execute, but it had a better chance of
succeeding.

Rich threw the ball over to first a couple of times to keep the runner
honest.  Then all of our planning went for nothing when Rich once
again sped his game and threw a pitch wide of home that got past
Kevin to the backstop for a wild pitch. The runner on third scored and
the runner on first made it to second.

The situation had now gotten even tougher. The run made the score
5-4 and the Loggers had the tying run on second base with their
number three hitter at the plate. He was 0-for-3, but the hitter in the
number three hole is often a team's best all-around hitter, so this was
not going to be an easy out.

The Logger crowd was now going nuts while our crowd was getting
very nervous. How nervous were the nine of us on the field? I think
that was answered when Coach Sanders walked to the mound to
calm down Rich, who was obviously a little shaken up by the wild
pitch. It was the third visit of the game by Coach and his last free one.
Now when he made a visit to the mound he had to remove the
pitcher.

Kevin and Marty followed him to the mound and once again Coach
said the things he needed to say to calm his closer down. The big key
is that we had two outs and that we just needed to put all of our focus
on getting the batter out. Once again Kevin and Marty stayed back at
the mound after Coach left and I snuck in to see if I could hear what
they had to say.

"Well, if your boyfriend won't make the offer then I will," Kevin told
Rich. "Get this guy out, make us state champs, and I give you the BJ
of your life on the bus on the way home."

"And if you still have something left in the tank after he gets done,"
Marty added, not wanting to be left out of the festivities, "I'll give the
follow-up."

Rich nodded, but he didn't look quite as relaxed as he had after
Kevin's "amen" on the first visit of the inning.

We all got set in our positions. Now, so far this inning Rich had been
wild, walking the first two hitters, and had given up a seeing-eye
single on what was a good pitch, but he hadn't thrown a mistake
pitch, a pitch that the batter could hit hard and far. That changed on
his first pitch to the Logger hitter as he threw a fat breaking pitch that
didn't break. It floated right into the middle of the plate for the Logger
batter. The Logger did what good hitters do and got all of the ball with
the sweet part of his bat. The ball was belted and all I could do was
turn around and see what would happen in right field.

I saw Lars turn and head for the fence. If he catches the ball we're
State Champs. If the ball falls for a hit the score is tied. And if the ball
clears the fence, and it looked like it was hit well enough to have a
chance of doing that, the Loggers come back to win the game and
the championship. Right then our entire season hung on Lars in right
field, who was about to make his first play of the weekend.

++++++++++

<Seventh grade, Bobby's trailer, Saturday, July 28th>

Noah dropped his bike in the tall grass that grew next to the driveway
and ran back toward the trailer as Bobby almost crawled over Maggie
to get out of John's pickup and run to Noah. The two boys hugged
and kissed, not caring who was watching. Maggie looked up the
driveway with amusement, congratulating herself on being correct
regarding the friendship between Bobby and Noah.

Bobby's mother was about to yell at Bobby to come back, but she
saw Maggie put her finger to her mouth. Instead she watched as her
son virtually danced with his friend in the dusty driveway.

"I brought some muffins and some tea," Maggie said. "I thought
maybe we could sit and have a chat." Maggie's demeanor was sweet
and unthreatening, yet there was the underlying tone that said this
was a command rather than a suggestion. Cindy, Bobby's mother,
nodded her head in response. "John will head home and come back
to pick me up when I call."

"That sounds good to me, Ma. I got a lot of chores to get done. You
womenfolk have a good chat." John was aware that the talk in
between them was going to be more than a chat. Maggie was about
to lay down her version of "life according to Maggie" on Bobby's
mother. He knew that after his wife was done with her the poor
woman might never be the same again, but the changes would be for
the good.

Bobby ran up to the truck as John unloaded his bicycle. The other
boys had told him of their plans to ride to the other side of Lake
Mayfield to see if Coach Sanders was home. He was eager to
accompany them.

"Good-bye, John, and thanks and tell Mag...Mrs. McGowan thanks
too," Bobby said.

"I'll pass on the message. You boys be careful." He looked at Bobby
with his kindly smile. "Don't you forget to come by and visit and help
me with those horses."

"I won't. I'll be there as soon as I can. But I'm going away for over a
week."

"And where would you be going?"

The redhead pointed up the driveway and said, "To Montana with
Noah."

"That sounds like a big helping of fun. You have a good time with
your friend if I don't see you before you go." John had seen how
Bobby and Noah had greeted each other and knew, just like his wife,
that the friendship between the two boys was very special.

"I gotta change clothes and I'll join you," Bobby yelled to his friends.
He started for the trailer the stopped. He turned and loped over to
John, giving him a wordless, but heartfelt hug. He then ran to the
trailer to change clothes. He slipped into a pair of cargo shorts that fit
him better than the jeans Maggie had given him. He sprinted back
out, ready to go wherever his friends led him.

He pushed his bike away from the pickup and went into the wooden
shed. When he came out carrying his helmet he showed it to John,
who pointed to him in approval and gave him a big smile.

Bobby hopped on his bike and joined his friends. They rode out to the
road and turned right, towards town. Their route would take them to
the west end of the lake and around the dam. They stopped at the
edge of town where the road they were on met Highway 12, the main
highway from Centralia to Mayfield and eastward over the mountains.
They took off their shirts, putting sunscreen on each other and
gulping swigs of water. Noah gave one of his two extras bottles to
Bobby. They tucked their shirts into their pants and took off riding
again, their beautiful, smooth torsos glistening in the summer sun.
Noah was happy that his mom had packed extra sandwiches.

They reached the dam in thirty minutes and took the road that
crossed the river in front of the dam. The bridge had a
pedestrian/bikeway on the west side of the roadway, and the boys
used it to cross the river. They then returned to the right side of the
road and started peddling east. They passed the entrance to Mayfield
County Park and pulled into the park to drink more water and refill
their water bottles from a spigot at the restroom.

Scott knew where Coach Sanders lived, having gotten the address
from his mother. The boys estimated that his house was just another
few minutes away, but they didn't want to reach his house with their
tongues hanging out from thirst. It was still too early to attack the
sandwiches, but Eric was already feeling himself getting hungry.

They left the park and peddled east on the road that was on the north
side of the lake; some of the houses along the lake were summer
houses and some were permanent residences. When they got to the
address for Coach Sanders, they saw that his house was on the
shore of the lake. It had steps leading up to the front door. There was
a carport at ground level which had a door that led into the house. A
Toyota Camry and a Toyota 4Runner were parked in the covered
carport, with a Chevy Silverado Z-71 pickup parked on a paved
parking strip that was next to the carport.

They walked up to the house and Eric found the doorbell and rang it.
He was surprised as to how nervous he was. They were showing up
at their coach's house unannounced and he had no idea how Coach
Sanders would react to that.

As they waited for the coach, Scott looked around him and said,
"Fuck, we're all half naked." They quickly yanked their t-shirts out of
their pants and were frantically struggling to get them on over their
sweaty bodies and were still getting arranged when the door opened.

Coach Sanders opened the door. He was wearing only a pair of
cargo shorts. Eric had never seen him shirtless before and was
surprised, in the way only a young boy can be, that his coach could
actually be shirtless. He also found himself looking at the coach's
well-toned torso. It was not an overly muscular body, but it was
obvious that he kept himself in top condition, from his six-pack on up.
His torso was hairless except for a light treasure trail reaching down
into his shorts and his underarm hair.

"Well, this is indeed a surprise," the coach said in a friendly manner.
At least he didn't kick us out right away or yell at us or anything, Eric
thought.

"Hi, coach," Eric said. "We wanted to talk to you and thought we'd
ride out here and see if you were home."

"Well, it is a nice day for bike riding. A bit hot though." Coach Sanders
seemed to be as uncomfortable with the situation as the boys were.
"How did you know where I lived? Never mind, don't answer that.
This is a small town. I guess I should be surprised nobody has shown
up here before."

"We hope we're not bothering you or anything," Noah said.

"No, I was in the kitchen making sandwiches for lunch. But I do have
to say, and please don't take offense, I prefer not to socialize with my
students, or with my players."

Eric was prepared for that line. "Well, sir, we're not here to socialize.
We're here on business."

"Business? Well, now, that is an interesting line. You said you came
to talk to me, and you're here to talk business and not to just chew
the fat?"

"Exactly. If we can talk to you for just a few minutes, we promise we'll
leave as soon as we're done."

"Well, you're all good kids so I assume if I let you in you won't run riot
through the premises."

"We promise to be good," Noah assured him.

"Promises from the likes of you four are as good as gold. Come on
in." The coach stepped aside and the four boys walked into the cool
house, somewhat awestruck to be in the house that their coach lived
in. Coach Sanders led them to the back of the house and into a den.
The room had large picture windows and a view down an incline from
the house to the lake.

Eric noticed the pictures around the room. He guessed that some
were of the coach's family: his mother, father, probably a brother and
a couple of sisters. It looked like there were pictures of two different
families there. There was also a lot of pictures of the coach and
another man, both formal and informal pictures. Some were obviously
taken right here at this house. The other boys noticed them, too. All of
the boys wondered who the other man was.

Coach Sanders opened a sliding glass door and let the boys onto a
large deck. The man they had seen in the pictures was lying on a
chaise lounge, reading a book and soaking in some rays. He was
wearing just a swimming suit. The disturbance on the deck had him
look up. If he was surprised to see four boys coming out of the house
he didn't show it.

"Well, what have we here?" he asked. He looked the boys over and
then said, "It appears we have been invaded by celebrity baseball
players." The boys were surprised that he knew who they were. Eric,
for one, thought that the man looked familiar. He was pretty certain
that he might have seen him at some of their games.

"We have some surprise guests. Gentleman, meet my
part...um...roommate, Phillip Miller. Phil, we have Eric, Noah, Scott,
and Bobby." Coach Sanders introduced them in the order they were
standing. "They say there are here on business."

"Business? Not too often kids take off on business trips."

"Would you boys like some lemonade? I have some cold lemonade in
the refrigerator; add some ice and it becomes ice cold lemonade."
Noah caught the little play on words and wondered if that was by
accident or if the coach actually had a sense of humor at home. He
rarely seemed to have one at school.

The boys all said they would love some lemonade. Phil offered to get
the drinks so the boys and their coach could get down to business.

They all sat at a round table in the middle of the deck that had a large
umbrella over it which shaded them from the sun. "Okay, boys, if this
is business then let's get right to it," Coach Sanders said, sounding
like a teacher and coach for the first time since they rang his doorbell.

It had been agreed that Eric, as the Go to State chairman, would do
the talking to start with. Eric got right to it, explaining about the Go to
State group, who was in the group, and what their goals were. He told
the coach how they had an adult advisor, a set of by-laws, and
elected officers. He went over the meeting their sponsorship
committee had a couple of days ago.

"I'd heard rumors about this group of yours," Coach Sanders said,
"but I figured it was mostly a matter of kids talking a lot, with little or
no action to accompany it." Eric perceived the comment to be an
adult slight on kids, but he ignored it, which turned out to be a good
decision.

"This appears not to be the case," Coach Sanders went on. "You kids
seem to be very serious about this and it is an admirable goal. I have
to agree that baseball in Mayfield isn't taken as seriously as it once
was. Football, for one, seems to be upstaging it."

"There's nothing wrong with the other sports," Noah said, "but a lot of
us love baseball the most and we really think we're good enough to to
reach that goal."

"A goal like you've set for yourselves is admirable as long as you
don't see yourselves as failures if you don't reach it. When you set
out to do something like this, success is often in the journey not in the
destination. But you didn't come here to be lectured. Just what does
all of this have to do with me?"

Phil came out of the sliding glass door to the kitchen, pushing a cart
that had six tall glasses of lemonade on it. He set one in front of each
of them and kept one for himself. "That's all in that batch, but I am
willing to squeeze some more lemons if it isn't enough." They
watched Phil return to the kitchen and Coach Sanders repeated his
question.

"At our next regular meeting I was going to form a committee to start
finding us a coach. But when I found out you weren't going to leave
Mayfield for someplace else, I thought we'd ride out and talk to you
today," Eric said.

"You mean you want me to be your coach?"

The four boys all looked at each other and nodded.

"How does the rest of the group feel about this?"

"We haven't had a chance to ask them yet. All we want to do today is
find out if you're interested."

Coach Sanders couldn't help but chuckle. "Usually, youth baseball
coaches are running around recruiting players. This may be the first
time the players have decided to recruit a coach. So, this is kind of
like a job interview so to speak."

"Something like that," Noah said. "Then we can report to the entire
group. We were all really happy to find out you weren't leaving us."

The coach was admittedly surprised by Noah's comment. He knew
he was harder on his team than most coaches who coached middle
school aged kids. He thought he would be the last coach the kids
would want. He decided to ask them why they wanted him.

"Because you make us work," Eric said. "And you teach us stuff. On
our summer team us Titans know so much more than the other kids
on the team because you teach us how to play the game right. You
don't just tell us, you teach us."

"Plus you don't put up with lots of shit...um...stuff from everybody,"
Bobby said. "We can't get away with stuff." Coach Sanders let
Bobby's faux pas slide. He knew that Bobby could be a little
redheaded firecracker and was surprised that he actually appreciated
the discipline. But, along with Marty, he was one of the boys who had
shown the greatest growth, both on the field and in the classroom.

"And that's what you kids are looking for--discipline and
fundamentals?"

Once again he got a four way nod. "That's how good teams become
great," Eric said.

Coach Sanders was surprised to find out how much depth there was
to these young boys. They appeared to be more than an impulsive
group jumping into something they had no intention of ever
completing.

He looked at Eric. Some still saw the handsome little blond as the
new kid in town, but he was obviously the leader. He had liked Eric
since he first met him, and he thought well of the other three as well.
"It would appear you are totally serious about this and I am
impressed. That said, I am afraid I won't be able to coach you."

The boys' disappointment was palatable. He could read it on their
faces. "Look boys, I would love to coach you and be a part of this
outside of what I do in school. But one of the things Eric said when he
explained about your group was that you wanted your summer team
to be all Mayfield boys."

"We want to be together all the time," Scott said.

"And that is where the problem lies. As a school coach I can coach
my players in a summer league, but there is one important rule. All of
the players on the team can't play at the same school where their
coach works. There has to be a mix of players."

"So if there are players from like Kentwood or Meadow Park then it
would be okay?" Eric asked.

"Right. But that's not what you boys want."

"I guess we wasted your time," Eric said.

"Actually, I don't think anybody's time has been wasted, if for no other
reason that I am now up on what you're doing and am very
impressed by it.  I am willing to help in any way I can, I just can't
coach you. But, I also think I know just the person for you to
interview."

"Who?" they all asked at once, bringing a smile to the coach's face.

"It just so happens that Phil and I played high school and college ball
together. It also happens that he coached a couple of years of 16 and
under ball just after we moved here, at least until his job hours kept
him from doing it." The boys all caught the "after WE moved here"
line, which, along with the coach's own faux pas of almost calling Phil
his partner, convinced them that Coach Sanders and Phil Miller were
more than roommates.  "His job hours are now more normal, but we
like to spend as much summer time as we can traveling. Traveling
can happen in August, when summer ball is over, however." If Coach
Sanders was aware that he had pretty much given away the fact that
the two of them were partners, he didn't show it.

"I know he's talked about going back to coaching and this just might
be his opportunity." Coach Sanders stood up and went to the kitchen
and opened the door. The house had a heat pump which was busily
working to keep it cool inside, which the boys had noticed. "Phil,
could you come out for a moment?"

Phil appeared at the door pushing the cart yet again. The cart carried
a huge jug of iced lemonade as well as a stack of freshly made
sandwiches. "I've heard that boys your age can get really hungry,
especially when they've been riding their bikes around the
countryside."

The boys all ooohed their approval. "You didn't have to give us food,"
Eric said. "I mean we did come here uninvited and on business. And
my mom packed lunches for us."

"I know I didn't have to," Phil said, "I wanted to. Just call this a
business lunch."

The boys poured themselves more lemonade and grabbed
sandwiches; they were indeed hungry and dug into the unexpected
meal quickly. While they ate Coach Sanders told his partner what had
been discussed in their business meeting.

After some discussion between Phil and the boys, he told them he
was flattered to be considered for their coaching position and would
very much like to coach them. "But," he said, getting the attention of
the boys with that word adults used before they shot down the ideas
that kids had, "I think that if I pass the interview of your little ad hoc
committee, I should be have a chance to address your entire group
and see what their feelings are.

"Also, there is something that needs to be understood before I even
consider this. I must have total control of the roster. That means I
have veto power on who makes the team, who gets cut, and over all
matters of discipline, up to and including suspension. How active
somebody has been in your little group will have little or no bearing
on who actually plays."

Eric hadn't completely thought out the concept of the coach putting
together the team. Somehow, in his head, he figured that the
members of their group would be the ones picked first. However, all
of the best players except maybe Marty were active in the group, so
in his mind giving the power to the coach shouldn't be a problem.

"We agree, Mr. Miller. I think we all want the coach to be the boss.
But everybody has to make the decision," Eric said. "Not at our next
meeting, though. We want to bring up what we found out today and
then you can meet everybody at the meeting after that."

"You boys don't need to call me Mr. Miller, Phil works just fine."

"Oh, but we do need to call you Mr. Miller. And if you become our
coach we will call you Coach Miller. We're doing this to win and
winning teams don't mess around. They call their coaches by last
name and that's what we want to starting right now. Coach Flynn on
our summer team lets us call him by first name if we want. That's not
what we want. We want to be taught to win and to play the game right
in every way." Eric's genuine sincerity struck both coaches deeply.

Noah and Bobby completely agreed and Scott went along. He didn't
see what the big deal was---first name, last name, they were just
names and who cared. But he also knew that Eric had his own ideas
of how things should work and that it wasn't easy to stand in his way
when he got on a roll.

Coach Sanders looked at the boys with increased respect. Everything
they said and did indicated that they were serious about this idea of
theirs and were ready to work for the next five years to make their
dream happen. But he knew kids and he knew that keeping up a
head of steam like this for that long a time was not in the makeup of
the typical adolescent.

"Looks like you boys really do mean business," Mr. Miller said. "What
was the name of your group again?"

"Just Go to State," Noah said. "We can't figure out if we are a club or
a group or what."

"What about the Go to State Team?" Mr. Miller asked. "That gives
you a sports feel."

"That's awesome, perfect in fact," Noah said. The other three agreed
instantly.

"Why didn't we think of that?" Bobby said.

"That's why you keep us adults around," Mr. Miller said. "Sometimes
we end up being good for something." He gave them a huge grin as
he said it. While The Go to State Team ended up being what they
called themselves through the years, it actually was their unofficial
name. Seth ended up suggesting that they become the Mayfield
Mustang Travel Team for official purposes, which the boys ended up
agreeing on.

The boys found themselves liking Mr. Miller more and more, from the
sandwiches, to the lemonade, to his smile, to his no-nonsense
attitude, they were already seeing him as a man they could play for.
The questions in Eric and Noah's minds more than with the other two
was, did he know his baseball, could he teach it, and would he be
strict enough? One of the things they did find out is that Coach
Sanders and Mr. Miller had gone to the State Tournament when they
played together in high school. They didn't win, but the experience
did give them an idea of what it took to even get to state.

After some more chat, Noah, remembering that he promised Eric he
would create a diversion, asked the coaches if the group could go
down to the lakeshore and go out on the dock. The house had a
wooden pier with a small diving board on the end and a ladder that
went into the water. A motorboat was tied to the side of the dock
opposite the ladder.

"We just want to look," Noah said, "we won't be long. Then we will be
out of your hair."

"You boys have not been in our hair at all. This has been a very
enlightening afternoon," Coach Sanders said.

Phil Miller led Noah, Scott, and Bobby into the house and showed
them were the stairs were that would take them down to the lower
level and the door leading out the back. Eric hung behind, telling the
others he would be right with them.

"Is there something else you need to talk about, Eric?" Coach
Sanders asked. He could see the tension in Eric's face and body. He
sensed that Noah's desire to explore the dock was meant to be a
diversion for Eric.

Eric took a deep breath. He knew he was about to violate the middle
school code on snitching, ratting, narcing, or whatever else
somebody wanted to call it. A middle school boy very simply did not
rat out another, no matter what the circumstances. But in his own
strange way Marty was his friend and Eric was worried about where
his friend was heading.

"You can't ever tell anybody I'm telling you this. You have to
promise." Eric looked at his coach with pleading eyes.

"I can promise you up to a point. There are some things the law
requires me to tell, and if this falls into that category all bets are off."

Eric had learned in health that those things had to do with sexual and
physical abuse. He didn't think Marty's problem fell into that category.
Bobby's problems might, but he wasn't talking about Bobby's
problems. So he went ahead and told his coach what he knew of
Marty's problems with alcohol. "He was going to be a big part of our
Go to State team until he started drinking all the time. And I guess it's
been going on since he was like ten or so."

"You did the right thing telling me, Eric. That took a lot of guts." Coach
Sanders was completely aware of the mores of middle school
boyhood. He knew that Eric's telling about Marty had not been easy.
He had had his own concerns about Marty and it looked like what he
thought might be happening wasn't too far from wrong.

"I don't know what I can do about it until school starts, but I will look
into it. It also happens that Phil...um...Coach Miller is Marty's father's
boss. He can always tell his dad he's heard things on the rumor mill
and wanted to make him aware of it." Although Coach Sanders
suspected his father already knew; things like alcohol and drug abuse
were difficult to hide unless the parent simply wasn't looking.

"Thanks coach. I'll go out back and get the rest of them." As Eric went
into the house Coach Sanders once again thought how much guts it
took for Eric to make his plea for help for his teammate. He looked
out at the boys on the dock, who were now shirtless. They were
sitting at the end of the dock with their feet dangling and there was no
doubt that Noah and Bobby were holding hands. Their bodies were
touching at the hips and their bare legs and bare torsos were in
contact as well. Phil came out on the deck and stood next to his lover
gazing at the same scene.

"Did we ever do that when we were twelve?" Martin Sanders asked.
"Sit outside and hold hands?"

"Only if we didn't mind getting labeled as fags and major losers."

"Well, we were fags," Martin said with a chuckle. "Even then we were
fags."

"But we weren't losers."

Phil took Martin's hand. "Nope, we weren't losers then and we
certainly aren't losers now." The two of them had been friends since
they were nine, and lovers since they were twelve. They'd been
through a lot of ups and downs, but had always managed to
overcome the trials that faced them. At this stage in their lives neither
one of them could imagine being with anyone else.

As the two men watched the boys, Eric, who was now shirtless as
well, sat next to Scott and scooted in close. Scott moved away just a
notch, saying that the coaches might be watching them.

"Do you think they care?" Eric asked. "I mean anybody can tell they're
more than roommates."

"Maybe they don't care, but I care," Scott said.

"About what? About what they think?"

Scott said nothing, but he refused to take Eric's hand. Eric noticed
Noah moving over toward him until they were touching. Noah took
Eric's other hand and held it. Eric was now sitting comfortably
between his two best friends.

"Are they like we were, or is it puppy love?" Phil asked.

"Noah and Bobby? Could be real love. But the other two? Puppy love,
at least by one of them. And now that it looks like you might be
involved with this team, I'll say I am going to watch the relationship
between those two carefully. I think Scott is about ready to turn his
phasers on girls, and when he does our young dynamo Eric could be
in for a big tumble."

Next: The Go to State Team