Ken’s expression fell as he heard the bat strike the ball with tremendous force. His gaze snapped to the ball which had flown into the outfield, feeling a sense of trepidation.
‘Please don’t go over…’
Gary Cooper who just hit the ball didn’t seem to be convinced it would go into the stands. He threw the bat aside and sprinted towards first base, intending to get as far as many bases as he could.
Ryan and Kris in the Center and Right field both ran towards the ball in order to field it, but neither could get there in time. The ball struck the back fence below the home run line before bouncing back onto the field.
Kris scooped up the ball in motion, firing a blistering throw towards third base. The runner had already rounded second and quickly put on the brakes after being waved off by the third base coach.
Ken let out a small sigh of relief after narrowly escaping the home run threat. If the angle had been a little different, they would have already been behind from the very first inning.
“Batting 4th for the Blue Marlins, Left field, Bran De La Cruz.”
With two outs and a runner on 2nd, Bran the clean-up hitter for Miami was announced as the next batter. He walked up to the batters box, his expression unreadable.
He went through his ritual and lifted his gaze, locking onto Ken. At first there was nothing out of the ordinary, but then Bran shivered subconsciously.
Ken’s figure was already tall on the mound, standing at least 6 and a half feet tall. But for some reason, he increased in size and tenacity, filling Bran with confusion.
The guy rubbed his eyes briefly, but nothing changed.
Before he could adjust, the first pitch came blitzing towards him with reckless abandon.
WHOOOOOSH
CLICK
“Foul.”
Somehow, Bran had managed to get a swing in, clipping the edge of the ball by some miracle. However, he was a little rattled since he hadn’t expected both the speed and intensity of Ken’s pitch.
But now that he knew what was coming, the next pitch would be different.
Or so he thought.
WHOOOOOSH
PAH
“Strike.”
“Count is 0-2.”
The earlier ball was a slider, one that seemingly disappeared as soon as it reached the plate. How many times had Bran hit sliders in his lifetime? The answer was too many to count.
Yet, he had never seen a slider break so dramatically at the plate.
With the second strike tallied, he was now in a precarious position. Would Ken throw a changeup? Or would his finish strong with a fastball?
Bran could remember the discussions they had during film sessions as they poured over Ken’s accolades this season. The atmosphere had been somber and for the first time he had seen his coach flustered.
They had the whole coaching staff work for over a week to find out any patterns or tells associated with Ken, but there was not much to report.
Earlier in the season he had often pitched fastballs with two strikes, but now there seemed to be no rhyme or reason to his pitching. The coach had essentially told them to do their best without any additional game plan.
But who could blame him? Perhaps in the future there would be foolproof plans to deal with Ken, but since it was only his first season in the league, there was not enough information as of yet to do so.
Bran grit his teeth and gripped the bat tightly, facing Ken once more. He knew that the Ligers often got ahead in the first inning, so he wanted to get the first run on the board, otherwise it might be too late.
He watched Ken wind up, only to feel his body flinch briefly.
‘What the hell!?’
WHOOOOOSH
PAH
“Strikeout!”
Bran stood with his arms extended, having missed the ball by a mile. For some reason his body had jolted as Ken was winding up, throwing off his rhythm and causing him to mistime the swing.
Even as he walked back to the dugout, Bran had no idea what happened.
“Changeover.”
The crowd roared in triumph as Ken put an emphatic end to the inning with a massive strikeout. Now it was finally time for the Ligers to go on the attack.
“Remember what we talked about this week, keep your eyes open and watch each pitch come to you. I don’t expect anyone to score early against Ryan Smith, just be patient and trust our own pitchers to keep it close.” Mark said once everyone had returned to the dugout.
Ryan who was first up to bat reassured the coach before stepping onto the field and beginning his warm up. The guy had been instrumental in Detroit’s early game domination on many occasions throughout the season, so no one was worried.
Ken watched from the dugout as Ryan Smith walked onto the field, his expression solemn. It was a far cry from how the guy acted back in the U18 World Cup.
He no longer seemed childish. In fact, Ryan looked unflappable, as if nothing could ever affect him.
He turned his head, locking gazes with Ken for a brief moment before completely ignoring him. Ryan took his spot on the mound and casually picked up the rosin bag, rolling it around in his hand.
The guy began his warm-up throws, the sound of the ball whipping into the glove was crisp, alluding to the speed and power behind the pitches.
After 8 throws, he nodded towards the plate umpire who made the signal.
“Play ball.”
“Batting first for our Ligers… Our very own, Ryan Greene!” The announcer called over the speakers, causing a cheer to erupt from the crowd.
Music played within the arena, bringing the audience to a fever pitch before the first pitch was thrown.
The two Ryan’s faced each other, as if the fight was a result of fate. Which Ryan would come out on top?