[Mattymo]

April 1, 1911 (continued)

"Nice hit!" yelled Coach Wheeler as he watched the ball fly over the short stop's head, "You have quite the swing."

Another pitch, this time a liner right at the left fielder.

"Nice job Fischer!," said the coach after a few more pitches, "much better than last year. Timpson, you're up next".

Francis took a deep breath and swallowed as the nerves settled in his stomach. He grabbed the Louisville Slugger, tapped against his cleats, and strode to the plate. He looked at Mike Schute, a big right-hander who threw a pretty good fast ball. However, he'd been practicing against Pierre-Luc for a few weeks now and was getting used to the speed.

As he settled into the left hand batter's box, he remembered what Jacky told him. "Don't swing too hard," he whispered to himself. He cocked his hands back and stared at the pitcher.

Schute got into his wind up, pulled his arm back and fired the ball to the plate. Francis eyed the ball, which was heading towards the inside part of the plate. He reared back and swung with all his might. "THUMP"

Francis looked back to see the ball resting in the catcher's mit. His shoulders slumped as he tapped the bat against his cleats. He looked out beyond the fence to collect his thoughts, then dug into the batter's box again.

As the next pitch came, it looked to be outside so Francis didn't swing. However, at the last second the ball curved right over the plate for a strike. His shoulders slumped again.

"C'mon kid," yelled Wheeler, "you only get five strikes before your turn is up. Gotta make 'em count".

Francis nodded.

He took another deep breath and readied himself, relaxing the bat in his hands. This time a fast ball right down the middle. Francis strode towards the ball, striking it firmly with the bat. He watched as the ball bounded towards the second baseman, who promptly fielded the ball and threw to first base.

Tapping the bat against the plate, Francis was more confident after that last swing and was ready for the next pitch. Schute got the sign from the catcher, wound up, and slung the ball towards the plate. It was towards the outside part of the plate, exactly where Francis liked it. He pulled his hands back, then threw them forward towards the ball. The bat connected perfectly.

Francis looked up to see the left fielder sprinting back towards the fence. However, he wasn't looking at the ball, rather running with his head down. Francis was stunned as the ball kept traveling through the air. The ball finally landed, bounced twice, and hit the fence, just below the 370 foot sign. The fielder picked it up and tossed it in. Francis smiled.

He looked at the coach who nodded his head and scribbled something on the clipboard. "Wow Frank, not bad at all," he said without looking up, "one more pitch, this time run it out."

Oozing with confidence, Francis swung the bat a couple times outside of the box, then dug in and bent his knees. The pitch came in, slower than the last, and Francis recognized it right away; a curve ball. He anticipated where the ball would come in, swung and drilled a ground ball past the pitcher. He took off towards first as the ball sqeaked past the short stop and into centerfield. Tom Fischer, who had taken over in center, jogged towards the ball to pick it up. Upon realizing this, Francis put his head down, touched first base, and dug towards second. Fischer hastily grabbed the ball and threw it in, but it was too late, as Francis slid in feet first with a double just ahead of the tag.