Chandler only gave us a couple of minutes before waving us on. "Come. Leave your gear. We'll come back in-between the stations. The first couple won't require a bat or glove." He didn't wait for any replies and started to walk.
Noah dropped his water bottle on top of his bag and hurried after him. I did the same, not willing to be left behind. The other guys in our group reacted the same way.
Chandler led us to a grassy area, where four bases were set up like a normal baseball field, each 90 feet apart. Three men of varying ages sat in foldable chairs. Chandler faced us. "We'll start off with simple baserunning. You guys will sprint to first base and we'll take down the times. After a few sprints from everyone, we'll have you run the bases like you're trying to score an inside-the-park homerun. After that, we'll grade your sliding skills. We specifically chose to set up on the grass so I don't want to see any fear when sliding."
I frowned.
"Don't care about whether he sees your fear or not." Noah whispered. "This isn't your strong suit anyways."
I nodded.
"Lineup!" Chandler ordered. We got into a relatively straight line. He pulled out a stopwatch and would command 'go', timing us on the sprints. Occasionally the other men would ask him what number each player was wearing if they weren't clear. Chandler was very professional in announcing times and sticker numbers. He never complimented or made fun of anyone's numbers.
That helped me stay calm when it came to my turn. I sprinted at the sound of 'go' and tagged first base in what I think was my fastest time ever. I paid attention to the other times announced, and realized I wasn't last. It was a sense of relief just knowing that I wasn't the worst. Not like when I first worked out with the high school team.
Noah was the fastest in the group and he even ran faster the second time around. He led every timed sprint that Chandler conducted. The coaches that were recording the times took note, and all seemed to watch Noah every time he was up. Noah thrived with the attention, pushing himself even faster.
I was feeling comfortable for the most part until a mishap took place when we were being timed for going all the way around the bases. It was my turn and I had tripped after rounding second base, landing on my hands and knees. I felt the blood rush to my face as I hurried to get up and finish my run.
I didn't dare to make eye contact with the counselor or coaches, and headed for Noah, keeping my head down.
"Don't mind!" Noah slapped my shoulder. "You completed the sprint at full speed still."
I tugged my baseball cap, lowering it.
"Yea, nice recovery." One of the other guys in the group came over. "You hustled your best."
"Tripping isn't the end of the world, nor is it the end of your evaluation." Some other guy said. "It happens. I'm sure Chandler will make us run it a few more times."
And he did. I focused on the ground as I ran, making sure not to slip in the grass.
Chandler never said anything to me or about me aloud, but it was still an awkward feeling to be the only one that had tripped up. Chandler took us back for a short water break and instructed us to bring our gloves to the next station.
Along the way, Noah chatted with the other guys and became friends with them as they got to know one another. He introduced me to them as well and stated, "Jake's a little shy and gets embarrassed easily. Thanks for trying to cheer him up. I tell him all the time to brush those errors off, but it still gets to him."
I gave him a small shove.
Travis, the one who told me that I had recovered nicely, laughed. "Ah, don't worry, I understand. I used to be shy too when I was in elementary school. But baseball really helped me make friends. It's like, having something in common with others really helps connecting you with like-minded people."
Noah's grin faltered for a second but it was only noticeable to me. He had lost friends because of baseball. "Yea, I agree. You make a lot of friends when you're on a team."
"Unless you suck." Adam, another guy in our group, stated. He sighed. "It's tough being the weakest link." I then recalled that he was one of the slower guys in our group.
"There's no such thing in baseball." Noah said. "It's all about strong suits and weaknesses. You might be weak at running, but strong at hitting. I'm weak at hitting, but good at everything else."
His boast made the others laugh as we reached the next station. It was another grassy area, with two coaches in chairs and one coach holding a bat.
Chandler nodded at the group of men, then faced us. "This group consists of middle infielders, but that doesn't mean you all don't have to catch fly balls. Coach Jason here, will be hitting either short or long balls. It'll be up to your own judgement; no hints will be given. Five balls per person." He checked his watch. "If we all finish in the given amount of time, I'll allow a second round for those not satisfied with their first performance."
With that reassurance, a lot of the guys relaxed and formed a line. With a chance for a do-over, a lot of the guys made some risky dives in the grass to try and catch the ball. Noah made the most outstanding grabs: diving forward and chasing the baseball back, showing off some speed again. The ball had no chance of touching the ground with his speed.
After he came back, the other guys in the group congratulated him for making some great grabs. He was like a walking highlight reel. I started to regret getting in line behind him.
Coach Jason gave me time to run out to the open area, but didn't give any hints to how far or close I should stand. I could only stop randomly and faced him.
He tossed the ball up to himself and then swung his bat. The ball went almost straight up! I sprinted forward, and made a diving catch.
"Nice, Jake!" I heard Noah cheering for me.
I tossed the ball back towards Chandler, who was next to the ball bucket. Then I hurried back to the general spot and waited for the next ball. The second ball was hit towards my left, but still in front of me, so it was a routine catch. The third pitch went to my right, and ended up hitting my glove wrong, rolling away from me. I gulped. I guess I won't be getting a perfect score.
"Don't mind!" A chorus of voices came from my group.
I smiled. We had only known each other for an hour yet they're already cheering for me. I'm glad I didn't get stuck in an overly competitive group.
I got set again for the fourth hit. It was another routine fly. I got under it and caught it with ease. Hit number five was the hardest, going over my head. I chased it back, but couldn't catch up. I could only pick the ball up off the grass and bring it back to the group.
