He dug his toes into the dirt behind home plate, squatting into position. Rusty raised his mitt, eyeing both his pitcher, the incredible Louis Lewis, and the opposing side's batter. He flashed the signals to the pitcher: one finger, three fingers, index and pinky (the horns), and four fingers. The first batter of the game, no outs, count is 0-0. Under their agreement, that meant the first sign: a nice, easy pitch down the middle.
Lewis wound up for the pitch, and Rusty observed the almost dance-like grace in the combining of so many actions into one fluid motion. Rusty used to be a pitcher himself, but didn't quite have as much of a knack at pitching than catching. He wouldn't have it any other way than with him behind the plate and Louis Lewis at the mound. As far as the both of them and Coach were concerned, they had found their indelible positions this season as starting pitcher and catcher for the school's C-team baseball. Together, the unstoppable duo, they had brought this team to the state championship after countless injuries and hours of practice. Now was a critical time for the team. Neither of them could fail.
As Lewis released, Rusty watched the trajectory of the ball soaring through the air. Louis Lewis had made perfect aim for the target Rusty gave him. Rusty opened his glove wide, watching the batter swing his heavy bat into motion jsut a fraction of a second too late.
"STEE-RIKE ONE!"
Half of the crowd cheered.
Rusty set up on the inside of the plate and signaled their code for another fastball. 'Bust him in,' Rusty thought at the climax of Lewis's windup. This time, the batter overanticipated. Rusty couldn't help but think about the precise timing and mathematical formulas and science that all went behind this stuff.
"STEE-RIKE TWO!"
More cheers.
Outside now, but still fastball...
Lewis shook Rusty off and planted a curveball on the back inside corner. But, just as the ball connected with Rusty's mitt...
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