Wednesday, September 18, 1985
Tryout
d
Daily Nebraskan
Page 11
rea
TRYOUT from Page 10
After all this, I was hoping to get on
the field and play some baseball.
Instead, they divided us up and had us
race 30 yards. I didn't do very well; I
never was very fast. They continued till
they found the three or four fastest
people, and Morris was one of them.
Next, we played catch. I felt a little
better doing something that resembled
baseball. After this, the" coaches put all
but the catchers in center field. I had
problems with the first couple throws
because I had never played on astroturf
before.
The catchers got their chance and I
was up last. My first throw looked good.
My second left a lot to be desired. I
talked to Tadd a little bit and went
home with thoughts of making the
team dancing through my head.
A 'hot' day
The next day of the tryouts, actually
two days later, brought high tempera
tures and only 20 to 25 people.
We stretched and went out to right
field and ran 60-yard dashes. It was
timed. I ran against Morris and he only
beat me by a step and a half. Unfortu
nately, the time had a half-second dif
ference. On the next run, I tripped part
of the way. Coach Haley didn't even
bother giving me a time because he
said that catchers aren't fast anyway.
Catching pitches was the next line
of duty. Each pitcher got two pitches to
throw as hard as they could.
This assignment was an adventure in
itself. All the pitchers were throwing as
fast as they could and they threw accu
racy to the wind. As a result, pitches in
the strike zone were a rare and special
event. Thank God for protective equip
ment. While the pitchers were punishing
me for my ignorance, the other players
were throwing in the outfield. They
were making 225-foot throws that were
being timed by Sanders.
After I was done with my adventure
behind the plate, I was sent out for my
long throw. My throw was not accurate,
and as it headed toward Sanders, I saw
all chances of leaking the team fly out
the window.
A no-hitter
I didn't hit Sanders, and he even
managed to joke about it later. After
this, he sent us to the mound with the
explanation that they wanted to see if
there were any unknown pitchers in
the crowd. My throw was 69 mph, which
was around the speed that everyone
else threw. Morris had the best arm and
his was only 77 mph. My ego was not yet
hurt, although my arm was in obvious
pain.
The third day of practice, the morn
ing of the Florida State game, was a hot
day. At the game, temperatures on the
lieiu soared into the 130s. At the tryout
it seemed just as hot behind the plate
Today, however, we would be scrim
maging. Only 22 showed up, and we were
down to one other catcher. But, because
the coaches said they needed a catcher,
many volunteers came to catch.
My first inning of catching was a
career in itself. 1 was stuck with the
hardest-throwing pitcher. After a few
pitches, my throwing arm was sore and
my catching hand was numb. He pitched
for six outs and in the process I was hit
in the side with a foul ball, hit on the
hand with a foul tip, and hit in the
groin with an errant pitch.
Better batting
Finally, I got to bat. I was nervous
and the pitcher got two quick strikes
on me. After a ball, 1 hit a weak fly ball
to center field. I was first up, and was
relieved that I didn't strike out.
I kept catching and got other assorted
nicks and bruises. The only one that
really hurt was a foul ball off the knee,
which swelled up and was stiff in only a
few minutes.
I got to hit again, but I wish I never
would have stepped to the plate. I took
the pitcher to a 3-2 count before I
struck out. It was a curve ball that I
might have hit with a golf club instead
of a baseball bat.
Morris looked good, along with a kid
named Carlson. Everyone developed a
camaraderie even through they were
competing for very few slots.
The fourth day of practice brought
another scrimmage. I overheard one of
the coaches mention this would be the
last day of practice. They would cut
after this game, so I went all out.
Almost everyone was more worried
about the freshman football game than
with practice. Everyone was getting anx
ious and they wanted to know if they
were going to be cut.
I started catching again. My arm
hurt, but nothing else really went
wrong. Forsome strange reason, I didn't
seem to be hurt by any errant pitches.
ends in foul nightmare
Sanders was worried after one foul tip,
because he happened to be standing
directly behind the cage and he saw
the foul tip coming; It didn't phase me
at all.
I got up to bat again and I struck out
on four pitches. I wasn't ready to hit
and it showed. The last practice, one of
the coaches mentioned that they may
keep a bullpen catcher and I was so
intent on showing them that I could
catch that I forgot about hitting.
Base bunting
I did get another chance to hit later
on. When I got up, there was a runner
on second. There was no one out, so I
thought I would impress the coaches
with my ability to bunt. I don't know
why, because in high school I couldn't
lay down a bunt if my life depended on
it, but I thought about it anyway.
I took the first pitch, which was
down in the dirt. The second pitch was
a perfect pitch to bunt. I stuck my bat
out and made the best bunt of my
entire life down the first base line. Of
course, I was thrown out because I
watched my thing of beauty instead of
running.
The rest of the day was spent catch
ing and getting hit. I had to leave early
because I had to go to night class, so
Sanders told me to call him In the
morning to find out if I had made the
team. I never got a chance to say good
bye to anyone, but I wanted to wish
them all good luck.
I called Sanders the next day and
found out the bad news. He thanked me
for coming out and told me he hadn't
kept anyone, but if he needed me he
would call. I still sit waiting for the
call, my hopes fading with each passing
day.
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