One Strike, Three Outs

A summer baseball story

Back in the early 2000s, I was hired as the interim head coach of a summer varsity baseball team from an affluent high school in the Portland, Oregon, area. To be honest, I wasn't all that excited about coaching there. The school had a reputation for parent drama, but I was young, and I needed the money.

The program had spent years somewhere between mediocre and underachieving. Summer baseball wasn't exactly a priority. Many of the players spent their summers traveling the world, attending exclusive camps, or doing just about anything other than community baseball.

That particular summer we had about 16–18 committed players, and there was some real talent in the group. We held a couple of optional practices just to get acquainted, and I was pleasantly surprised. The boys worked hard, showed up on time—or at least let me know if they'd be late—and they all looked like baseball players. Their attitude was refreshing.

By the following week, I had a pretty good feel for who everyone was and what they could do. My plan was simple: give everyone an opportunity to play.

On the day of our first game, one of the parents showed up carrying a box filled with brand-new jerseys and hats. It caught me completely by surprise. I figured if we weren't going to play well, at least we'd look good doing it.

Our opener was across town against a lower-level high school team. They had plenty of athletes, but not many polished baseball players.

That day I had one of our "better pitchers" scheduled to start. He was leaving that weekend to spend the rest of the summer biking across Europe with his father, so this would be my only chance to see him pitch in a game.

We started off great, putting a few runs on the board in the top of the first.

Then I sent our guy to the mound.

He looked the part. Athletic build, crisp new uniform, good velocity, and a decent off-speed pitch in the bullpens leading up to opening day.

First pitch... Ball.

Second pitch... Ball.

Third pitch... Ball.

Fourth pitch... Ball.

I walked out to the mound.

"Relax. Breathe. You've got this."

Nothing complicated. Just slow the game down.

I took my time walking back to the dugout, hoping he'd settle in.

I sat back down on my bucket and thought, We've already got the lead. We're going to score plenty more today. I'll give him a long leash. Besides, I won't see him again after this weekend.

Next hitter.

Ball one.

Ball two.

At that point, you probably know what's coming.

Ball three.

Ball four.

First and second.

"You've got this! I'm not warming anybody up. Figure it out!"

Four more balls later, I started questioning my leadership.

Thirty-pitch limit, I reminded myself. Worst case, this becomes an expensive bullpen session. He's a great kid. Maybe after Europe he'll figure it out.

Bases loaded.

Twelve straight balls.

Our supposed ace hadn't thrown a strike.

Now I was wondering what I'd gotten myself into for the next month and a half.

Finally, I sent another pitcher down to the bullpen. I also had my catcher walk out to the mound—not because I thought he had the magic answer, but to slow things down long enough for the next guy to loosen up.

The catcher jogged back.

The pitcher took a deep breath.

Next pitch...

Right down the middle.

As hard as he could throw it.

The batter absolutely annihilated it...

...right back at the pitcher.

He somehow caught the line drive.

Without hesitating, he fired to the shortstop covering second.

The shortstop relayed to first.

Triple play.

One strike.

Three outs.

The boys exploded out of the dugout like we'd just won the state championship.

I met him as he walked off the field, patted him on the back, and said,

"Nice outing. Have a great trip."

We ended up finishing right around .500 that summer. Looking back, I really enjoyed coaching those kids. More than twenty years later, I still laugh every time I tell that story. Sometimes baseball gives you memories you couldn't script if you tried.

Twelve straight balls. One strike. Three outs. Baseball is a funny game.