The town’s mayor was a chunky African - American businessman who had the reputation for being an avid sports enthusiast. “I almost lost my voice screaming last night,” he told the students, pretending to be hoarse. “We’re really proud of our high school and its winning tradition.” He glanced over at the squad. “Thank you, Coach Brayshaw, for a marvelous job all season. And I’m delighted to be able to come here and deliver the league MVP trophy to our own Mr. Big, the tower of terror, the dominating dynamo of doom, the main man, the block of steel, our all - star center in the middle. Mr. Moses Jones Wilson.”
Jonesy started laughing as the names rolled out. “I’m gonna hear about that one,” he told Dan as he went forward and received the large trophy with a wave to the student body.
“And here are your varsity awards,” the vice principal added, distributing one of the ribboned medallions to each of the players. “Congratulations, guys.”
Later at lunch with Dan, Bucky fingered the ornate trophy hanging around his neck. “That’s the kind of jewelry I like,” he laughed.
Dan chewed thoughtfully on his sandwich. “Well, we got just one last chance to play around here. Varsity baseball, Mr. Stone. If we don’t take all the marbles this time, I’m gonna jump off a cliff someplace.”
Bucky nodded. “It’s never for sure that we’re even on the team, Litton. There are a lot of good players in the senior class. Plus you never know who might transfer in and steal our spot in the lineup.”
“No way,” Dan scoffed. “You and me are gonna bat three and four the whole way. You get on base, Litton hits you in. Case closed.” He glanced at Bucky’s cookies. “Are you going to eat those?”
“Yes.” Bucky picked them up and took a quick bite out of both of them at the same time. “Well, all I can say is – let’s get in such good shape that there’s no question about it.”
“For sure.”
Jonesy Wilson lumbered up and plopped down next to them. “Hey, fellow big shots.”
“Well, hey to you, Mr. MVP.” Dan reached over and gave the big center another high five. “Way to cash in.”
“Not a bad season.” Jonesy looked from one to the other. “Me and my dad figured that if I got on this team, we’d come out on the right side of the river. And sure enough.” He fingered the medallion hanging around his neck.
“What’d you do with that big trophy?” Dan started to laugh. “Your pop drives a truck, right? You’re going to need it to get that sucker home.”
The three visited for a few more minutes before the buzzer rang. “Well, I’ll see you guys,” Jonesy said, but he didn’t move to get up. There was an awkward moment as he hesitated.
“Now what?” Dan never bothered with the social graces. “If you want my autograph, just say so, Wilson.”
“It ain’t that.” Jonesy scratched his head for a moment, and then shrugged. “Shucks, I’ll just tell you guys . . . man, I really appreciated playing with you.”
“Hey, our pleasure,” Bucky said.
“No, not just that.” The big center paused, thinking, “I mean, you guys being Christians and everything. And always supporting everyone else on the team and stuff. And praying all the time.”
Bucky found himself almost holding his breath. Jonesy was dead serious as he continued. “Well, I gotta tell you, it kind of got to me. I mean, you guys hold this team together. We could see it last year when I was with Walnut Creek, and, man, over here too.” He licked his lips, a bit nervous. “And I just wanted you to know . . . it’s . . . good.” He gave a little grin and then shrugged as if to let them know his tribute was finished.
Dan appeared about to say something, but abruptly stuck out his hand. The two athletes shook as Bucky watched and whispered to himself, “Thank you, Lord.”
Jonesy stood up and began to leave, and then suddenly turned back. “You guys heard that Brayshaw called a baseball meeting for this afternoon?”
“No.” Bucky looked startled. “Season’s not for several weeks.”
“Yeah, I know.” The tall center shook his head. “I don’t play baseball, but I know you guys both go out for it.”
“We should go to that,” Bucky told Dan. “Maybe we’ll get a handle on what kind of varsity schedule they’re going to have. And who our competition is.” He looked up toward the sky as if to send up one more prayer.
As he walked through the murky corridors toward the other wing where his first afternoon class was, he suddenly saw Lisa in the hallway ahead of him. The unexpected encounter caused his pulse to race a bit. Should he call out to her? The two of them hadn’t spoken since his ill - fated phone call from the beach of Waikiki the semester before. Her words from that moonlit evening – “Bucky, leave me alone!” – still rang in his ears. He slowed his walk, allowing her to get even farther down the hallway. She didn’t look back as she went around the corner.
As he sat through the last class of the afternoon, his mind wandered back to the scene in the gymnasium. Championships were such fleeting things, he thought to himself. Sure, he and Dan had won “all the marbles,” as Coach Brayshaw liked to say. But the minute one sport was over, another one immediately took center stage. By Wednesday morning the basketball medallions would be ancient history. He couldn’t help wondering if the athletic director would for sure choose to name both him and Dan to the elite varsity baseball squad.
A knot of about twenty would - be baseball team members milled around outside the coach’s office just after school let out. Bucky recognized a couple of the players from last year’s frosh squad, who now had aspirations for JV or maybe even the coveted positions on varsity. Dan came ambling up from the other side. “What’s going on?”
“Just got here myself.”
Coach Brayshaw came in from the gym and looked over the group. “Have a seat,” he told them, running his fingers through his hair. The students grabbed chairs or simply plopped themselves down on the thin carpeting.
“I guess . . . well, first of all, congratulations again to those of you who participated in our great basketball season.” He paused. “Not just varsity either.” He glanced at a couple of the players. “I know you JV players didn’t win your division, but we had a great year, 9-7, and some of you are going to be terrific on the big team next fall. I mean that.”
After a moment of silence he continued. Dan and Bucky glanced at each other, wondering what was behind his words.
“Anyway, I guess I better come right out and tell you why I called the meeting.” Coach Brayshaw pulled a piece of paper out of his pocket and held it in his hand. “I got a fax this morning from a college back east. Some people I know back there from way back. And they’ve had a bit of, well, political messes, etc. Bottom line is, they’ve asked me to come back and take the position. Director of the whole program. Two of their men were here the other day to talk to me about it.”
Bucky gulped, hardly believing what he was hearing. He remembered seeing the coach with some visitors in the gymnasium after the finals. That had to be them, he decided.
“You going to do it, Coach?” one of the JV players blurted out.
The director hesitated. “Yeah, Ronny, I guess I am. I mean, you men are a fine bunch. Outstanding, in fact.” He glanced in Bucky’s general direction. “But to coach on the college level is something I’ve always wanted to do – and I’m never going to get a chance like this one again.”
“Yeah, but what about baseball?” The same boy again. “You’re going now? Middle of the year?”
“I know this is abrupt,” Brayshaw admitted. “But the district has several names available right now – in fact, I hear they’ve already got two men who can come here immediately, today.”
Brayshaw continued, but Bucky found it hard to listen. Coach leaving? Halfway through their senior year, with just one more possible athletic season? He thought back to his freshman year and the traumatic altercation with the hard - driving coach over the school policy regarding cheating and Bucky’s reluctant decision to repor
t his own teammates. And then how God had worked to heal the relationship . . . and make Bucky one of the big guns in the high school’s athletic program. Time and time again, Coach Brayshaw had publicly said that Dan Litton and Bucky Stone were the catalyst for his teams. Now what was going to happen?
He longed to tell the coach how much the three years had meant to him, but this wasn’t the time for that. The other guys were still buzzing about the news and asking questions. Finally he and Dan exited and began to walk toward the parking lot. “What do you think about that?” he said at last.
Dan shook his head slowly. “Unbelievable.”
Chapter Three: Gearing Up For Tryouts
Traffic was a mess on Florentine Avenue as he drove over to First California Bank, causing Bucky to arrive about five minutes late. He shot Mr. Willis an apologetic look and hurried to check in and get to his window. Already a line of several customers stood waiting, and Bucky motioned to the first one standing in line.
During the past two years of working at the bank, the young teller had mastered the art of being friendly while still handling the customers’ needs efficiently. Whenever someone slowed things up by wanting to chat, Bucky was good at giving the impression of wishing he could visit – but of being “reluctantly obligated” to serve those still waiting in line. Customers invariably left his window feeling complimented rather than annoyed. More than once Mr. Willis had complimented Bucky on his good people skills.
Several times during the shift Bucky’s mind returned to the scene in the athletic department. How could Coach Brayshaw leave right in the middle of the year? Despite the ups and down of their early relationship, he realized now what a genuine affection he felt for his coach.
Still, a question nagged at him. During the past three years he’d never really carved out an opportunity to talk to Brayshaw about being a Christian. Sure, Dan and Sam and now Miss Cochran had made decisions for Jesus and been baptized. But he’d never even cleared his throat to make any such suggestion to his coach. Should he have done so? He mulled over that question for some time, but drove home sensing that if anyone at Hampton Beach High School had a full understanding of Bucky’s Christian faith, it had to be the Panthers’ athletic director.
The next Saturday evening after supper at his house, Bucky and Dan talked about the upcoming baseball season. Dan’s father was away in Fresno for the weekend visiting an older sister, so the stocky ballplayer and Julie both lingered later than usual. She sat on the couch next to him, resting her head against his shoulder as the two guys discussed the upcoming baseball season.
“Look,” Bucky asserted, “all we can do is be ready, man. I mean a hundred fifty percent. We’ve got to drive ourselves so hard that no matter who comes in, and no matter what kind of schedule they throw at him, he’ll have to use us.”
“Yeah, but what can we do?” Dan looked over at Julie. “We’re already pushing full tilt. Running and all that.” He and Bucky were still putting in a full four miles just about every morning.
“I don’t know. Whatever we can do to practice baseball. Batting cages, whatever. It’s just . . . man, this is our last chance to be a witness in front of the whole school.”
Julie sat up and straightened her hair. “Do baseball guys train much before the season? I know they do in basketball.”
“Not much,” Dan admitted. “Do some throwing to keep your arm in shape. That’s about it.”
“There you go, then,” Bucky asserted. “Litton, we’ve got to let ‘er rip these next two weeks. I mean, in basketball you were the one who whipped me into shape. We’d never have won those three titles if you hadn’t pushed me.”
“Yeah.”
“I was even thinking of quitting at the bank,” Bucky told him. “Just until the end of the year. So we could go all out.”
His friend gulped at the suggestion. “You gonna do it?”
Bucky shook his head. “No, but I might cut back a little bit. Willis knows how bad you and I want to finish up the year with one more shot at the gold.”
After a momentary silence Julie looked at both of them, her eyes serious. “I think it’s so neat the way you guys both want to just play for, you know, honoring God. That’s completely . . . different.”
Dan looked at her soberly and then reached out and took her hand. “You’re so lucky to have me for a boyfriend,” he deadpanned. Bucky fell over on the rug, laughing.
• • • • •
The next two weeks Bucky and Dan did indeed drive themselves harder than ever. Mr. Willis agreed to let Bucky trim his work schedule to just two afternoons a week during the baseball season, and the boys used the extra time to good advantage, working on their throwing and fielding.
“This guy at the gas station said he’d be glad to pitch to us Sunday afternoon,” Dan told him after a long workout. “He played in college and still has a pretty good arm. Then I could catch while you hit, and you could do it for me.”
“Man, that’d be great!” Then Bucky scowled. “Is he going to want to be paid or anything?”
“Are you kidding? The guy’s a nut for baseball. He can’t get enough of it, he tells me. If we just blow off some steam about how great he is, that’ll be all the pay he needs.”
Bucky’s muscles ached the following Sunday evening after the long two - hour marathon of hitting, but he could feel a growing confidence. After last season with the junior team, it was a whole new challenge to face the hard sliders and curves that Ricardo had thrown at them, but the young athlete had a keen eye and good instincts in the batter’s box. With his abundant power and improved timing, he’d knocked plenty of the mechanic’s pitches up against the distant fences. Plus he and Dan had wheedled the older player into two more sessions that coming Wednesday and Sunday.
“We’re going to be ready,” Dan told him the night before varsity tryouts. “As ready as it’s possible to get, anyway.” He and Julie sat across the library table from Bucky as they worked together on a joint senior project for government class, “You watch, babe. Stone and me are going to pop a few long balls right across the freeway.”
Skies were gray the next afternoon, but the threatened rain didn’t seem to be coming as Coach Brayshaw gathered those trying out for baseball together on the field. Standing next to him was an older man with graying hair and a very tan complexion. “Guys, I want you to meet Coach Roger Demerest.” A buzz of awkward greetings followed. “He comes to us from Idaho, and we’re kind of lucky to get him right in the middle of the year this way. They had a big organizational shakeup up there, and our opening came along just in time. He’s a real baseball man – in fact, we had a good time at lunch today trading stories.” Brayshaw turned to directly face his replacement. “These are good athletes we’re giving you, Coach Demerest, and I’ll be real disappointed if you don’t drive them hard right into the winner’s circle. No kidding.” He added the last with a bit of forced joviality.
After a few quick introductions, the new man efficiently organized tryouts, using his two assistant trainers to help supervise the hitting, fielding, and baserunning competitions. A few minutes later, Brayshaw wisely departed from the field, giving the replacement director a free hand. Bucky glanced over from the batting cages and watched as his mentor of three years put a box of things in the trunk of his car.
“Just a sec,” he said to Ron, who was coordinating the hitting. “Be right back.” He and Dan trotted over to the parking lot just as Brayshaw was getting into the driver’s seat.
“Are we going to see you again?” Bucky asked.
A tight pause. “Flight’s tomorrow afternoon. Cindy and I are going to be heading out pretty early in the morning.” He squinted, looking over at the field swarming with high school ballplayers.
Bucky put out his hand and the coach shook it. “Thanks for everything. You were a great coach, and Dan and I really liked playing for you.”
“For sure,” Dan added, shaking hands with Brayshaw. “You were the greatest. Coach of the Year, I
tried to keep telling you.”
The athletic director managed a chuckle, then grew serious. “Well, you two men were very special,” he said at last. “Not just because you brought this school all those championships, but . . .” His voice trailed off.
Bucky waited. Was this the opportunity he’d wanted?
But the moment passed. “You guys brought the team together,” Brayshaw told them. “And I knew I could count on you. So – thanks. I mean, for everything.” It seemed like he wanted to say something else, that some hidden reserved thought, some reaction to their faith in Jesus Christ needed to be mentioned. But it just wasn’t going to come out. Not today.
Dan and Bucky glanced at each other, and then kind of edged away. They stood in the parking lot and waved as the older man’s sedan turned the corner.
“He’s a good guy,” Dan managed, his voice unusually subdued.
They walked slowly back over to the batting cage, the grass crunching under Bucky’s feet. Should he have said something to Coach Brayshaw about his faith in God? He hadn’t felt any kind of intimation that he should speak – but was that a good guide?
Dan broke the reverie. “Time to hit a few smokers, Buck. I mean, right this minute.”
“You’re up next, Stone,” the new coach motioned, matching athletes’ jersey numbers with a list he had on his clipboard. Bucky whispered a silent prayer as he donned a batting helmet and picked up his favorite bat. He and Dan had just been through an extensive hitting workout the evening before, so he felt as ready as he’d ever been in his life. Still, it was a different pitcher out there on the mound. Everyone knew Dennis was the school’s varsity ace.
“Go easy on me!” he hollered out to the hurler, waving his bat back and forth and taking a deep breath. He forced a grin, but he could feel the tension.
The first pitch came slicing in hard, but it was clearly outside. Bucky let it go by and saw the coach nodding. “Good eye.”
Bucky Stone: The Complete Adventure (Volumes 1-10) Page 94
