The Coyote Roadshow is coming to your baseball town!

For Bill, the best moment in a baseball game, the most watched and re-watched highlight, was an infield defensive play. It plays in his head all the time. Twice before his teammates had turned a triple-play. First like lucky junk because of a slow runner. But the other with smoothness and grace, for a seemingly easy three outs in a row.

      With two runners on base, the batter hits a bullet in the direction of 3rd base. Rodney jumps and snags the ball with confidence. He firmly steps on his bag as his whole body is turning and then throwing in what seems like a single motion. Rodney is focused on DJ’s glove, the target, and throws the ball with a soft touch but very fast. 

      DJ receives the ball and then follows the Second Baseman’s Algorithm. First he secures the ball in his glove. Moving too early and he risks dropping the ball. He then turns toward his target and focuses on the 1st baseman’s mitt. He also sees where the runner is and knows how hard he must throw the ball for an out. And he does.

      The 2nd baseman’s transfer of the ball from catch to throw is the part of the algorithm, when executed properly, will make the play as much as one half-second faster. And DJ does just that—and more.

      Kurt at 1st base is razor focused as he watches the ball speeding toward him. Perfectly still. And as the runner is about to put his foot on the bag, the ball arrives with a snap into Kurt’s mitt. 

      “Out!” cries the umpire and the opposing coaches object to his call. It’s a ‘bang, bang’ play, and the umpire’s call is correct. The Coyotes just made their third triple play!

      The human remains of three bass runners leave the field. The Church is now safe from threat.

      Bill walked toward 2nd base to congratulate DJ. According to Bill’s calculations, DJ executed faster than the algorithm required.  

      “Great transfer, DJ!”

      “Thanks, yeah, I got that one correct.”

      “Your move was perfectly fluid.”

      “Thanks ‘Pitch’, did Coach see?”

      “Coach sees everything.”

      “Good.”

      “What made it work for you? To be that smooth?”

      “That girl!” DJ said urgently, looking at no one.

      “What girl?” Bill started to turn and look into the stands.

      “Don’t look!” DJ grabbed Bill like a criminal. 

      “Oops! Sorry man, my bad, who is she?”

      “That’s the thing, I don’t know! Dang! This is totally weird!”

      “Where is she sitting?”

      “Directly behind you. As best as I can tell, about three or four rows from the top, just above our dugout. But I can’t see her face, just a bright flashing light, and the heat. My face gets hot when she looks at me. I can feel it even when I’m not looking at her. All during the last three innings I’ve felt the heat.”

      “Yes, well, very strange indeed,” Bill agreed and turned around casually like he just might do anyways and… Bill rotated 180 degrees and gazed out casually into the stands above the dugout.

He saw nothing of note and was about to give DJ bad news when something flashed. But he didn’t know whether it was from the stands or just in his head. Then the flash came again, yes, there was a light out there but like DJ, Bill couldn’t see where it was coming from.

      He kept rotating, observing the tiny light in the stands, and looking at DJ. DJ was a fright. 

      “Don’t know, but there’s something up there. I’m not going to look any more. It might burn my eyes out. And I really need them to pitch.”

      “That’s what made me turn the triple so fast, record time I’m sure.”

      “Yeah, for sure!”

      “I knew she was watching me and routing for me and, in that moment, felt invincible, like I’ve never felt before. It was like I did it for her, or maybe, because of her. I don’t know. You’ll have to make up a sensible story for me to tell the guys.”

      “Yes,” Bill thought, “they would need a simple answer.”

DJ continued to feel the burning of romantic love and he thought it was going to make him sick and he would throw-up all over his base.

      In the stands, the high temperature illumination was being generated by a transfer-student from uptown. Melanie has plans to major in Psychology in college and needs to take a few specific classes to qualify. Classes her old school didn’t offer but the Coyote’s did.

      Her new counsellor, Dr. Sue Adams, thought if Melanie took the right classes, she would be in charge, able to choose which college she wanted to attend. Dr. Adams said she would love to write a recommendation letter for Melanie, winking, and saying that she knew what words the college’s admissions teams were trained to look for. The right words in the right place and that student becomes desirable.

      Melanie loved baseball and especially enjoyed watching the 2nd baseman. He was skilled and smart, danced when he made a play, and yet still so much a boy. A good boy. Her boy. She had learned the flashing-light trick from her older sister many years ago at an outdoor music concert. A way to get someone’s attention from a distance or in a crowd without anyone else knowing: use the small mirror in her compact make-up kit. Melanie had spent the last three innings flashing the 2nd baseman with the tiny mirror and to her joy, he was clearly befuddled. And yet, he was also playing like a champion.

      She didn’t know anything about him except his first name was just initials, like he had something to hide. 

      She recited her guesses, “Donald Johansson? Duane June? Doobie Julian? Dumb Jock?” That was her best guess so far. The one she would stick with. Probably, she didn’t really want to know his full name. Initials were a way cooler label.

 

 

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Bill was quietly singing his latest song, waiting for the batter to walk to the batter’s box and settle in. Then the batter will follow his own personal variation of the Standard Batter’s Algorithm.

The Batter’s Standard Algorithm: in the batter’s box, place feet slightly apart, stand sideways and face the pitcher. Make sure you are all the way in the box and not outside the lines. A foot outside any line is an out if the batter swings—whether or not he hits the ball.

      Push your toes, your shoes, into the dirt to ‘ground’ your body. Tap the outside of home plate with your bat using both hands. This will assure you are positioned correctly.

      “Now be aggressive," Coaches always say, but the young batter doesn't know what that means.  What is he actually suppose to do? Something with his body, so he grinds his shoes deeper into the dirt.

      The batter takes a couple warm-up swings to ease his nervousness. His adrenaline is flowing and he feels like he was born for this moment.

      What the warm-up swings really do is tell the pitcher and catcher, and umpire too, what mood and attitude the batter is in at the moment he prepares to attack. Is he fierce or nervous, positive or hesitant, aggressive or docile? 

      Then the batter sets his body, looks at the pitcher and holds his bat up high. If the batter looks directly at the pitcher, he's confident. If he looks away, he's afraid. And if he is waving to his mom and dad in the stands, then he's dead meat.

 

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Yogi Berra is perhaps the most famous figure in baseball. Born, Lawrence Peter ‘Yogi' Berra, he was an American professional baseball catcher who later took on the roles of manager and coach. He played nineteen seasons in the Majors, from 1946 to 1965, and was an eighteen-time All-Star. He won ten World Series championships as a player, more than any other baseball player in history. 

      And as a funny compliment to the man, the cartoon character, Yogi Bear, was named for, and carried the care-free, smart-talking attitude of Yogi Berra.

      Yogi had a career batting average of .285, hit 358 homeruns and brought 1,430 runners home.

      Yogi Berra is best known for his hilarious statements, which came to be known as ‘Yogi-isms’: “Baseball is 90% mental, and the other half is physical.” ‘The future ain't what it used to be.” “It’s déjà-vu all over again!” 

      And often his sayings had a deep philosophical meaning, “If the world were perfect, it wouldn’t be.”

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Rosie love being a Coyote Baseball fan at her brother’s games. It was way more fun than watching professional players. Coyote games were loaded with action. Rosie had her own baseball jersey custom-made with her name on the back and the number 18, her favorite. 

      Though Rosie was known by her teachers as a shy girl, the baseball fans sitting around her would never have believed it. At a game, Rosie was loud, direct, and always in good spirits. 

      She used many of the most popular, witty, baseball quips: 

      ”That's okay ump, your seeing-eye dog is on its way.”

      “That’s running? My grandma could beat you.”  

      “Great swing but you missed the bus.”  

      “That’s your best? The world’s in trouble.” 

      “Don’t worry, he only hits a few batters each game.” 

      “A baseballer? I thought you were just out here to help the grass grow on your shoes.”

      "That's your bat? It’s not gonna help. I’d suggest leaving it in the dugout."

      "Don't just be swinging, you gotta be diggin’, diggin’, diggin’.”

      “Two hands, two hands!”  

      “Pillar number two, catch the ball, brainless!”

      “What ball? Where’s the ball?” 

      “Hey ump! I found your glasses!” That was Rosie’s favorite. 

      And the Coyote’s number one goal on the field she shouted with glee, “Throw the ball, catch the ball, hit the ball! Do it or lose!”

       The team, the opposing teams, the fans, and all the umpires loved having Rosie at the ballpark. She, more than any other fan, knew the joy and sacredness of a baseball game.

 

 

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