Chapter 10: Check Swing

https://theperrynews.com/pry-soft-emma-check-swing/

“G-double-O-D-E-Y-E, good eye, good eye,” we cheer from the bench as Cat Kent watches another high pitch sail past.

The home plate umpire raises a fist to signify a full count with three balls and two strikes. The bases are loaded and we’re down one run in the bottom of the seventh inning against Virginia Commonwealth University for the state championship.

__________

After our playoff win at Mary Baldwin College I had hopped into Quinn’s old car for the ride back to Magnolia. The navy blue Bentley’s front end was painted with sharp teeth, forked tongue, and a fiery plume.

“Nice wheels, bro,” I laughed as he passed me an obligatory Rolling Rock, “but I’ll pass on the grenade this time.”

“To each his own,” he responded, taking back the bottle as we wound out of the verdant Shenandoah Valley heading east on I-64. “My grandfather was fond of import cars, God rest his soul.”

“Expensive taste for a farmer,” I noted.

“It wasn’t tobacco they grew before the war of northern aggression,” he confided, slipping into a southern drawl while talking about his family. “Major Seth Mason was the largest slave trader in the Valley of Virginia.”

“Didn’t they lose all that with the fall of the south?”

“Chattel and land, yes, but his granddaughter married a teacher from up north. They took the family wealth up to Jersey with the fall of western Virginia.”

“Perchance, was he George LaMonte and their Virginia estate Wheatland?”

“Januzzi, you are a walking encyclopedia.”

“Not really, I just grew up in Bound Brook, where the LaMontes were the primary benefactors for public land and community services.”

“Well then, we’re practically related,” he laughed, holding the steering wheel with a knee while popping open another little green bottle.

“My turn to drive the blue dragon,” I asserted, pointing to a scenic pullout at the crest of the Blue Ridge.

Kik-kik-kikkik-kik-kik rang out from a pileated woodpecker at the top of a white pine and was followed by a thunderous pecking as we hopped out to take a leak over the rim and then switched drivers.

     “Quinn, what’s up with the Belle’s Ball?” I asked as the diesel engine chugged to a start.

“President Caine was going to shut it down,” he replied, “but he likes the idea of an antebellum costume ball. He even offered to sponsor if we change the name and open it up to the whole campus.”

The team bus chugged by as I pulled onto the interstate, so I shifted into overdrive and caught up as we came down off the Blue Ridge. Toni and Cat waved from the back window as I drafted behind them through the rolling hills of the piedmont.

“It’s a double moon over old Virginia!” I laughed as our leftfielder and catcher bared their bottoms against the glass.

“That’s it, Zo,” Quinn exclaimed, “we’ll call it Old Virginia!"

For the rest of the drive back to Gibby-Hank we sang along to the Queen song:

     “Ooh, we gonna let it all hang out,

      fat bottomed girls

     they make the rocking world go around.”

__________

The count is three balls and two strikes with the bases loaded and two outs in the bottom of the seventh inning.

“Make it be your pitch!” calls Jo, flashing signals while standing on first base.

“Yes sir, Coach Collins,” Cat jests before stepping back into the batter’s box.

The pitch is right down the middle of the plate but beneath her knees, Cat’s secret sweet spot. She steps into it as her arms slant down into a golf swing. Just before her wrists pass the middle of the body, she pulls up, whipping the bat back.

“Ball four!” yells the home plate umpire.

“She broke her wrists,” shouts the VCU catcher pointing down to first base to appeal the call.

The first base umpire throws her arms out into the safe signal as Ronki steps on home plate to tie the game.




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