Читать книгу The Last Summer - Chan Howell - Страница 10

The Giant

Most of the league was Travis Harrison’s bowling pins, to be set up over and over only to be knocked down time and again. Travis and Wyatt became enemies despite the fact they were a lot alike. Travis was the best pitcher in the league and had been since we were nine years old. It was extremely rare for him to lose. He toyed with everyone while defiantly smiling at his opponents.

Travis made sure everyone knew how many times he had struck them out. His dad, Alex, was his coach, and his mom, Vanessa, was the stat keeper. He had stats on everyone. When I was eleven, I actually put the ball in play for the first time, and Travis pitched an epic fit that would make Donald Duck seem tame. I hit a slow grounder or, as Duckworth called it, a swinging bunt, to third, and I reached on an infield single, bringing my career stats to 1–12, with 11 strikeouts. My next at bat, he threw two fastballs at my head. Duckworth told Coach Alex if he did it again, he’d report his team. Alex laughed then nodded at his son. Travis then made quick work of me with three straight fastballs. My legs were shaking as strike 3 blew by me. Alex smirked at Duckworth as I shamefully went back to the dugout.

Travis was nearly six feet tall by the time we were twelve. He dominated due to his size, but also, he relentlessly worked at getting better. His favorite player was Roger Clemens, and he emulated his every move. Travis was at best an average hitter, but when he pitched, he never lost. The only time I ever finished in first place was when we were teammates at ten. I counted grass blades in right field while he threw a one-hitter in the championship game.

Travis’s dad and mom were the league villains, too, but those that sided with them felt like they did no wrong. Alex manipulated the draft each year to his favor and always had a great team. Alex was the president of the boosters’ club, and he used his influence for his own benefit many times. Alex was greedy and wins were the only thing that satisfied him. Alex and Vanessa both constantly argued balls and strikes. She would smile and sometimes wave at other parents when her son struck out their kids. If Vanessa befriended you, it was likely she needed something.

Alex was a stressed-out car dealership owner and was a feared boss. I think baseball stressed him even more. He never made it to practice on time. He yelled as soon as he stepped out of the car, and our parents’ eyes rolled the minute he arrived. I always wondered, was he planning his tirade while speeding late to practice? Alex did not like to lose at anything, and his intensity made the large man seem colossal. Alex was the only person I ever heard Duckworth say anything bad about. I heard Duckworth say many times, “Alex will live for forever because the devil does not even want him.”

Alex forced Travis to stay after every practice and throw another fifty balls. He earned being the best pitcher. He and Alex put in the hard work. Alex would constantly yell two things, “Perfection!” and “What are you doing?” It was common to hear Alex shouting at Travis, “Stop being such a pansy and pop the mitt!” Each year Travis and Alex would argue more despite always winning. They never had enough strikeouts or wins. Alex’s postgame speeches were always about the mistakes the team made and how they should be ashamed of themselves. Winning was not enough—he wanted perfection. Travis was a head taller than everyone in the league except Ogre. Travis and Alex only finished out of first place once since we were six years old.

The transition from elementary to middle school was not easy for Travis. He had spent the last few years of elementary school being the alpha dog, but the eighth graders made sure he knew his place. He was not bullied as much as warned. Travis had to keep his ego in check when around the older boys in the middle school. He became increasingly more difficult and disrespectful to those of us in the sixth grade. He constantly fired insults at everyone, and no one ever stood up to him except my sister. Whitley and Travis constantly argued. She would not tolerate his behavior, and as she put it, “You would be embarrassed to pitch your next game with a black eye.” She never followed up on the threat, and Travis just obnoxiously laughed at her.