Softball Tryouts: Strike One

"Competition?" She asked, turning her head at me while stirring the Tuscan sauce she was cooking in the frying pan with her wooden spoon.

"Ya, her name is Riley Purpura. She's also a top-ranked player in the nation, with multiple scouts eying her. Oklahoma is one of them." I said, pulling my phone out and going to www.perfectinnings.org. This was the website I typically went to when I scouted opposing players. I searched the top 25 search list for Riley's name. I scrolled for maybe a half second before I found it: Riley Purpura - 18 yrs old - Frisco, TX - SS - Right Handed -.354 batting avg - 29 HR & 54 RBI's in 2022 - NO COMMITMENT - Rank #8 out of 100.

"Holy shit!" I exclaimed, forgetting where I was.

"LANGUAGE BECK!" My mom chirped back at me. "But...what is it?"

"She's ranked number 8!" My chest tightened as the real fear of her beating me began to feel like a real possibility.

"Well... that's great! What rank are you at?" She asked, pouring noodles into a strainer in the sink.

"I'm not sure; they changed the site's layout, so it's not listing them one by one or in chronological order. I have to search for my name." I replied as I scrolled back up and searched for myself.

"FUCK YEA!" I yelled.

"BECK!! LANGUAGE!" My mother scolded me again.

"I'm sorry, Mom, but I'm currently ranked #5 in the nation!" I screeched in excitement.

"HOLY FUCK!" She yelled, almost dropping the pot the noodles were in.

We both started dancing and screeching excitedly. I was ranked #21 at the end of last season and had no idea I had shot up so high. I guess it makes sense with so many seniors graduating. Not to mention, I had one hell of a season last year, which ended in a State Championship.

"Looks like you have some serious competition." My mom reminded me as she went back to preparing dinner.

"So does she!" I said, feeling proud of myself. "I will say that she does have some advantages, though. Coach Spitz has been coaching her since she was 8."

"Oof...that does make it harder. Well, if there is one thing we know, hard work gets attention," she started.

"Hard Work gets rewarded," we both said in unison.

"You're right, you're right!" I said. "Now, where is dinner? I'm starving!" I said, whining.

The rest of the night went by quickly. We ate mom's famous Tuscan Chicken Fettuccine Alfredo. It was delicious. We went out for some ice cream, went shopping to find my mom a new blouse for work, and then came home.

I spent the rest of my night watching highlight reels of Riley from last season. I tend to study my opponents more than I need to. I typically only do this with pitchers. Find their tells, if they have any, see what pitches they favor, where they like to throw, what weaknesses I can find, etc. But I was studying my competition in this tryout, though none of my studies would be beneficial in tryouts. I just wanted to know what she was about.

Maybe I could find her weaknesses and try to excel in those areas. AH, who knows? I just need to be Beck ma-fucking Sullivan and let my 14 years of hard work do the talking.

From the eight videos I watched, I learned that she's a slugger. She makes good plays on defense, but I wouldn't call her a Golden Glove nominee. She had some errors that looked like they came from exhaustion, but she also could take a hit. One play, the batter hit a drive right at her, catching her in the temple. She stood up, grabbed the ball, got it to first for the out, AND THEN fell in pain. "She's got balls.. I'll give her that." She also struck out a lot, which is typical for sluggers. They swing for the fence EVERY time, but this often leads to strikeouts. That said, she has way fewer than any other slugger out there.

After doing my studying of Riley and finishing up a bit of homework, I turned the lights off and went to bed.

The next morning came quickly. I wake up at 4:45 AM every other day to hit the gym before school. I like to get my legs working and my muscles aching before the day begins. I am unsure if this is the case for everyone, but this helps me gain muscle growth quicker as I usually work out twice on these days.

I got to school and attended classes; before I knew it, it was lunchtime. This school was pretty cool because they allowed off-campus lunches for Seniors. Meaning I could go to Cane's Chicken for lunch. I've only had Cane's twice before today, but it's already becoming a quick favorite. It's better than Chick-fil-A, and that's saying something.

I pulled up, put the car in park, and went inside. "Fuck me," I said under my breath. Not only was the line 20 people long, but 2nd to last in line was Riley with her friends. She didn't notice me at first, but the moment I stepped up behind the man behind her, she looked back and had an evil grin. She whispered something to the girls she was with. They all looked back at me, and like typical moronic "mean girls," they all started giggling.

I shook my head and pulled out my phone.

Me: Maya, how's life back in the GunShine state?

Maya: HEY BITCH! Shit... It's the same ole, same ole. 'Member Tisha?

Me: Ya, what about her?

Maya: She's prego with Tyler Scott's baby.

Me: NO SHIT! Isn't he with Marcella?

Maya: Not anymore! TBH, the rumor is he cheated on her with Tisha at a party.

Me: I'm not surprised, he was always a total douche.

Maya: Ain't gotta tell me! How's life in Tejas?

Me: Honestly? Not bad. I miss your ratchet ass and the diamond squad, but this school puts Franklin High to shame.

Maya: Aw...we miss you too. Is it super new or something?

Me: No idea, but they're hella rich! They have two athletic buildings--one for baseball/softball/soccer and 1 for football and basketball.

Maya: DAMMMMMMM, We barely have the one!

Me: Right?!

Maya: You on the team yet?

Me: Nah, tryouts just started. I saw that I'm ranked nationally at #5, though!

Maya: STFU! FUCK YA SIS!

Me: Tho - my competition for SS is ranked #8

Maya: Oooof - well, you got dis - kick 'er ass!

Me: I will - you can bet that!

Maya: Yo, well, I gtg to class - call me later, Bitch!

Me: ight- later Bitch!

Maya: ❣️

I looked up from my phone and saw that the line was now 7ft up, and I hadn't moved. Riley and her pack of wolves had sat down and presumably talked shit about me.

I shrugged it off and stepped up to the counter. I ordered and paid for my food and then went off to the other side of the restaurant and sat down at a two-person table. Pulling out my phone again, I mindlessly scrolled through Instagram while I waited for my food.

"I looked you up, Guera," I heard as Riley stepped up and sat in front of me at my table.

"I did the same, puta," I replied without looking up from my phone.

"You may be ranked higher, but you're not better than me, bitch!" Riley said, getting instantly heated.

"Ah!! So you went home and looked me up?" I said with a smug look on my face.

"We don't need to do this. Look, I'm sorry for starting shit immediately. I love this sport; it's my life. You are the competition, and I am your competition. But can't we do it peacefully?" I asked, laying my phone on the table, crossing my arms, and looking up at her.

"This the dirty south Guera. We don't do peace. Now, if you want to give up on shortstop and take second, that's a different story. I'd be happy to put the guns away and be friends." She said, almost sounding sincere at the end of her sentence.

"I'm a shortstop, just like you. Being scouted by Oklahoma, same as you. But something you gotta be reminded of, apparently, is you've got everything to lose, and I've got everything to gain." I said, standing up as my name got called on the intercom.

"We'll see about that, Guera. Watch your back!" Riley said, standing back up and walking back to her table.

"OKKKKAYYYY," I said super sarcastically as I walked away to grab my food.

The rest of lunch went by incident-free, aside from the occasional dirty look from Riley and her friends. I finished eating and returned to school, which was relatively easy. Riley and I didn't see each other in the halls and managed to avoid each other before practice started.

I was out on the field before everyone else, but in pattern with yesterday, Riley was out here not a few minutes after me. I did my typical warmups, high knees, log walks, frog jumps, and regular leg and core stretches. Riley worked on her swing and did some ghost fielding. The two of us did everything we could to avoid the other, besides the occasional nasty look here and there.

The practice started about 10 minutes early as more players came out, then the coach and any late stragglers. Today, we were placed in our preferred positions and would take turns running specific drills, such as line drives, different types of double plays, pick-off attempts from home plate, pitchers, pop-ups, shallow hits, cut-offs from the outfielders, etc.

There were about four people at every position, give or take, and we would all take turns running each play. Riley was lined up first, and I was last. Riley seemed to appreciate being placed first. But I did not hate being last, as it would allow me to be the last person the coach saw run each drill.

We each took turns, and it was evident through the 4th drill that Riley and I were on an island of our own. The other two girls lined up with us were moved to first and third after the 6th drill. I took this as a sign that there were only two candidates for the shortstop position.

The tension between me and Riley was palpable, and everyone could see it. But I didn't mind this; I thrived on it. The added competition from Riley boosted my energy, awareness, reflexes, accuracy, and determination. She'd even make the occasional lewd and negative comment from time to time, but I ignored her and continued on my way.

After the fielding drills were completed, the coaches set up a pitching machine, and everyone took turns swinging at 25 pitches that would vary in speed and placement. The girls that previously hit would then line up in the outfield and chase/field the balls that would get hit. 2 girls were assigned to go around and collect home runs as they did get hit. Some girls ran in line to get an earlier position; I walked up and got in line wherever I got in line.

Riley was 2nd in line. The first girl came and went, and I bore her no attention. But when Riley started swinging, I stepped out of line and watched every ball.

I have to give it to her. Her swing was flawless. She had perfect follow-through, a beautiful stance, a smooth swing, and effortless power. I think of the 25 pitches she was given, she only missed 2. Of the 23 she hit, she knocked 14 over the fence. She demonstrated her force and slugging ability and immediately set the tone for everyone else.

It took about 30 minutes for my turn to come. I watched out what the machine was throwing and at what speeds. The high was probably in the mid-60s, and the low was in the mid-40s. It would alternate these every 3 to 4 pitches.

Most girls went 50/50 or below that. There were a couple of girls, Kyra - the catcher, and Millie - the first baseman, who hit at least 20 pitches. But all in all, everyone else was average.

My goal was to miss nothing. I wanted to hit every pitch, foul nothing, and do what I could to send it deep if I could. Home Runs weren't my specialty, but I could and do hit them.

Before I knew it, my time to shine came. I was the 3rd to last in line and was determined to make my mark. The first pitch came, and I made beautiful contact to send it over the centerfield fence, the furthest part of the field. I started fantastic. The next pitch, I sent back to the warning track. I went 22/22 and then started to feel my heart race. I wanted the next three pitches. I tried to avoid tying Riley or beating her by 1. I wanted all 25. However, I was quickly running out of juice. I usually don't tire this quickly, but I did go harder on my arms this morning than usual, and it was showing right now.

The 23rd pitch came, and I gave it a hard swing, my 6th home run. I reset. The 24th pitch came, and I sent a line drive into the opposite corner. Then, the final pitch was set to come; I took a deep breath and eyed the change-up that the machine threw. I swung and felt my bat connect to the ball and instantly felt relieved. However, that was quickly dismissed as I watched the ball fly off to the left and go foul. "FUCK!" I yelled out loud as I stepped away from the batter's box.

"Nice at bat, Ms. Sullivan. Not happy with that last swing?" Coach Tompson asked. Coach Tompson was the batting coach and the first base coach.

"No, ma'am. I wanted to go 25/25 with no fouls, and of course, I hit a foul the last at-bat." I complained, placing my bat against the backstop and heading into the dugout to grab my glove.

"I wouldn't be mad at yourself. You don't normally hit home runs, and you hit seven if I counted correctly. You additionally sent 15 into play, with only two being hit, which would have landed an out." Coach Tompson complimented me.

I walked out of the dugout and then up to the coach. "So you know about me?"

"Wouldn't be very good at my job if I wasn't. You're a top 5 prospect in the nation. My job is to help you stay there if not progress. I also want to help you get an offer from a top school." She replied, looking down at her clipboard. "Your swing looked good but looked gassed towards the end...were you swinging harder than normal?"

I shook my head and answered. "No, ma'am. I think my 5 AM arm workout at the gym did me in".

"Ah! Be careful with those early morning workouts on practice days; that's the fastest way to an injury." Coach motioned me to join the players in the outfield.

"Yes, Ma'am," I replied, jogging to the left center.

I did feel good about my performance and was happy I didn't miss any. The worst ball was the last, flying deep into foul territory by the foul pole. It's not the worst foul ball one could hit.

The last few batters came and went. The coach immediately identified five people who need not return tomorrow or would be placed on the JV team. We finished with another set of sprints before heading in.

"Coach?" I asked, jogging over to Coach Spitz.

"Yes, Ms. Sullivan?" She answered back.

"Please, call me Beck. Would you be okay if I refilled the pitching machine and took maybe ten more swings?" I asked.

"Normally, Ms. Sullivan, I would say absolutely. But Coach Tompson told me about your arms tiring due to an early morning workout. I don't want one of my future starters hurt before the season begins. Take it easy. After tomorrow, feel free to come out here whenever you want." She informed me, sending my heart racing.

"Wait...so I'm the starting shortstop?" I asked, my face blushing.

"Now, don't get too excited! I didn't say that; you will be one of my starters. Where you fill in is still to be determined." She said, bringing me back down to earth. "But, I would surely be fired if I didn't start a top 5 player on our Varsity team."

"Understood, coach, thank you!" I said, calming myself with a deep breath before jogging into the locker room.

While I felt better about knowing I'd made the team, I wanted that starting shortstop position.

I got into the locker room and sat on my bench. Many girls took my lead from yesterday and just left, changing and showering at home--most of them. By the time I got in here, only five girls remained. Riley, Tara, Millie, Nita, and Lindsey. The 5 of them were circled at Riley's locker as they laughed and joked around.

They were all obviously friends with each other. I pulled my phone out of my bag and read a text from my mom.

Mom: Darling, we will have dinner with our neighbors, The Jacksons, tonight. Please shower at school to not delay dinner. Dinner will be at 6:45. Love You, and good luck! 💋

I groaned under my breath as I threw my phone into my bag. It was 5:32, which gave me an hour and some time to shower and get home.

None of the girls were undressing or even moving toward undressing. I decided to just get it over with. I walked to the towel station, grabbed two towels, and returned to my locker. I removed my cleats and socks and took off my top and pants.

I now stood there in my sports thong and bra. I pulled out my regular clothes and clutched them under my arm. The last thing I wanted was for Riley and her band of goons to hide my clothes while I was in the shower.

I also grabbed my phone and brought it in with me, just in case they decided to try and take that as well.

I was surprised when I got into the showers as there were probably 20 stalls with canvas curtains. A cubby in each booth for belongings. A couple of hooks inside the stall away from the faucet for the towels, shampoo, conditioner, soap dispensers attached to the walls under the spout, and Bluetooth speakers.

"Holy shit, this school has money," I told myself.

I chose a stall near the middle of the room, turned on the shower, and let it warm up. I connected to the Bluetooth speaker and had it begin playing a random playlist that Maya and I set up a few years back on Spotify. We add a new banger to the list whenever we find one.

The water warmed up quickly as the music filled the room. Steam started to rise from beneath the curtain. I moved the curtain to the side and placed my clothes and phone into the "shower cubby." I slid my thong and bra off and put them on the cubby. I didn't care if they got wet, but I didn't want them to make my other clothes smell like sweat. I would go bra-free and commando until I got home.

I stepped into the stall and turned my back to the water, dipping my head back and getting my hair wet. The warm water dripped down my back, and felt terrific. A new song I hadn't heard before appeared on the speakers and sounded like Post Malone. I closed my eyes and stepped back, allowing the water to caress my body.

This school spared no expense, and the hot water was excellent. It didn't feel like hard water, which we got in Florida, which was good because hard water would dry my skin and scalp.

I rinsed my body before grabbing the shampoo dispenser and grabbing some. I ran my hands through my hair and lathered my scalp with the scentless shampoo.

"You in her Guera?" I suddenly heard Riley yell into the bathroom.

"What the fuck?" I said softly under my breath.

I quickly washed the soap out of my hair and rinsed my face.

"What do you want, Riley?" I yelled back.

"No puta?" She asked back, her voice getting closer.

"WHAT DO YOU WANT, PUTA?" I fixed my question in a more stern voice.

"Come out, I want to ask you somethin'," she demanded.

"Can't this wait? I'm busy if you couldn't tell by the room and the noise it's making." I replied sarcastically.

Suddenly, the shower curtain swung open.

"I don't give a fuck!" Riley said, standing fully clothed in a white t-shirt and jean shorts that came off her hip.

"YO! WHAT THE FUCK!" I complained, covering my breasts with one arm and my vagina with the other.

"GET THE FUCK OUTTA HERE!" I commanded her, reaching for the curtain to close it.

"Ay, you do have nice chee-chee's Guera!" She said, stepping into the stall.

"This team is mine! You're good, I'll give you dat, but puta, it's my team. You're going to take second OR ELSE!" She said as she stepped up to me.

The water was now pouring onto her. Her shirt quickly became see-thru. Her dark nipples were instantly visible.

"IF IT'S YOUR TEAM, WHY ARE YOU SO FUCKIN WORRIED ABOUT ME?" I yelled, getting in her face. "Shit like this makes you seem hella fuckin scared. You worried I'm about to take your spot?" I continued.

Riley began to laugh. "You crazy! YOU THINK YOU SCARE ME?" She said, pushing me back a bit. "I bet you have a cozy life and don't need to struggle. You get errrrrthing just given to your white ass." Riley yelled, pushing me again.