331 Game: @ Quincy High School 8 (1/2)

All of us were back in the dugout which was filled with excitement as Sean was stepping up to bat.

”That was just way too cool!” Noah joined me at our bags after going to congratulate Mahki. ”I want to be able to do that some day!”

I tilted my head. ”Hit a home run or to be able to turn it into a grand slam?” I pulled out my glove and pushed my helmet away.

”Both! Of course, it'll take some time and training.” He sat down beside me. ”It's not like Zeke was cranking out home runs all the time his freshmen year. Well...he could do it occasionally. But he was taller than I am at this age.” He pouted. ”Maybe a little more muscular too. I've gotta start lifting weights.”

That'll be a no from me. I shook my head. I would never want to lift weights again. The first and only time was traumatic to the max. Plus... ”Power isn't the most important.”

Noah looked me in the eye. ”Oh? Insight from the young batting prodigy himself? Please advise me!”

I looked at his eager face, seeing that he was dead serious. ”I've been thinking about it for awhile.” At least I've been thinking about it since the confrontation on the bus. ”I think the most important thing when it comes to batting is contact.”

His face fell. ”Oh.” He lost the pep he had before. Maybe because he's been making contact half the time but still getting out.

”The second most important thing should be placement. Contact doesn't matter if it's a pop out every time, right?”

Noah perked back up. ”Go on.”

”Another important trait for a hitter would be speed.”

”The speed of the bat? What? Why?”

I shook my head. ”No. Speed. Like how fast you run. Look at me... I can hit well, but I never go to second. Because I'm not fast enough. And I suck at sliding.”

”Yea, you really suck.” He stuck his tongue out at me.

I rolled my eyes. ”Do you want to hear what I'm thinking or not?”

”Please!” He switched back to his obedient look.

”Well, you know how you've been working on hitting grounders instead of flying out or striking out?”

”I try. Even though it hasn't been working out.”

”And you're fast. Almost the fastest on the team.”

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”Yea, I know.” He bragged.

I stopped and stared at him.

”Oops, sorry, continue please.” He folded his hands and put them in his lap, putting on an act of being well-behaved.

I took a deep breath. ”As I was saying, your fast, and even when you hit a grounder to an infielder, it's always pretty close. So what if you could shave off a half, or maybe even full, second?”

”I would be able to make it depending on the fielder and the throw, but how could I become a second faster?”

”Hit from the left-handed box. That would put you closer to first. And, when you finish swinging, it'll put you in a good position to sprint to first.”