Kai laughs. “Thanks, kid.”
“Yeah,” Cody says dryly. “I used to do just that. Literally last season.”
“He’s old and retired now,” Isaiah taunts. “The guy ain’t shit! Take a swing!”
Isaiah’s brother gives him his middle finger as Travis tosses his pitcher the ball back.
“Milo,” Emmett says just as I join him at his side. “If you can get a hit off Kai, you can hit off any pitcher in this league. You got it?”
“And if I can’t?”
“Well, that’s not exactly an option you have.”
I fold my forearms over the metal framing behind the net, mirroring Emmett’s stance.
He looks down at me with a soft smile. “Hey, you.”
“How’s this going?”
Milo squares up for the next pitch as Travis signals to Kai. Milo swings, and it’s a beautiful swing, but his timing is completely off as he misses entirely.
“Shit,” he grumbles right after it lands in the center of Travis’s glove again.
“It’s going,” Emmett mutters.
Emmett doesn’t give any advice, and I think that’s done purposefully to see how Milo will handle his own mistake.
Milo immediately gets back into the batters’ box and squares up for the next pitch.
When Kai releases the next one, anyone could see that it’s going to be a ball that’s curving wide to the left. But Milo reaches out of his pocket to swing for it and misses.
“You’re chasing bad balls,” Emmett calls out.
Milo immediately gets back into position for the next one.
“Step out. Take a breath. Fix your gloves. Anything that will separate you from that last pitch. You chased it because you were frustrated about the previous one. Reset yourself before it snowballs.”
Milo’s frustration is evident as he takes his coach’s advice, stepping out of the box and exhaling a deep breath. He gives himself plenty of time and I can see him mentally trying to re-center himself.
“I’m not just saying this to boost your ego,” Emmett continues. “But your mechanics are perfect.”
Isaiah scoffs from the other side of the cage. “You’ve never said that to me, Monty.”
“Yeah, that’s because they’re not.”
A smile cracks on Milo’s lips.
“It’s all mental,” Emmett goes on. “You’re in your head. Everyone here can see that you’re intimidated right now. It’s the same way you looked during the game the other night, but there’s nothing to be intimidated about here. This is just practice. No one is watching. Who cares if you mess up. You’re getting to swing off a guy you idolize, but he’s not on the other team. So, show him what you got and let it rip.”
Milo nods, stepping back into the batters’ box, and it’s clear from his relaxed stance that he’s already calmer.
Travis gives his pitcher a signal and Kai winds up, delivering a fastball right down the pipe, almost identical to the one that finished our last game with Milo at bat.
The crack of the bat is almost deafening as it echoes throughout the otherwise silent stadium.
“Holy shit,” Travis mutters from behind the plate, throwing off his face mask to watch as the ball sails through the air, scaling over the ivy in center field.
There’s an unmistakable thud when the ball hits metal, landing somewhere in the upper bleachers.
