Take Me Out by Tara Wyatt

Author:Tara Wyatt [Wyatt, Tara]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Tara Wyatt

The ball cracked off of Hunter’s bat and flew into the stands, sailing into the upper deck. His gloved hands vibrated with the contact and he resettled himself in the batter’s box, not letting himself get caught up in watching his batting practice home run.

“Good. Choke up a little,” called out Abby, scrutinizing him from a few feet away. He did and swung and made contact with the next pitch, sending it screaming down the third base line. Once his pitches were through, he pulled off his helmet and headed toward Abby, who was studying her tablet.

“Hey, I’ve got a question for you. Just your professional opinion,” he said, squinting at her.

“Shoot.”

“Not to sound like I’m bragging, but I’m fucking crushing it in BP. Am I doing something different during the games, something that’s messing up my timing or ability to see the ball?”

She shook her head, her long brown ponytail swishing behind her. “I don’t think so. Look.” She tapped the tablet’s screen and then turned it to face him, showing him a page with several graphs and his name along the top. “Your contact rate has dropped—from seventy-eight percent to seventy-one percent. Your strikeouts are up. But, everyone knows what a threat you are, so pitchers work around you, making you chase things. Opposing teams play the shift against you more than any other player on the team. The good news is that when you do make contact, you’re crushing it. Your hard hit rate and exit velocity are both better than they’ve ever been. Long story short,” she said, tucking away the tablet, “teams know what a threat you are, so you’ve gotta push past the mental, get your head straight so you can focus on the physical. And maybe a little more patience at the plate. Don’t chase as much. Let things come to you.”

“I really don’t think I chase that much.”

She arched an eyebrow at him. “Stats don’t lie. You chase. And you’re stubborn.”

“No, I’m not.” He grinned at her. She smiled at back and then moved around him, on to the next batter in the cage. He made his way down to the dugout, wondering if Abby’s advice applied to Marlowe too. If maybe what she needed was a little space and freedom and then, when she was ready, she’d come to him. Maybe he’d been chasing her too much too, swinging at things he had no business swinging at.

Dylan sat down beside him, a cup of Gatorade in his hand. Hunter tipped his chin at him.

“How’d you break out of your slump? And I’m not talking about physically, about mechanics and shit. I’m talking about mentally. Abby says I need to get my head straight to hit better.”

“It was all mental with me, man. I was so up in my own head that I was psyching myself out every time I got to the plate.”

“How’d you shut it off?”

Dylan grinned at him. “Well, for me, I needed release, so…sex. But, considering you’re a newlywed, I doubt lack of sex is your problem.

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