The Hitting Zone



*Third person perspective*

"You're late." A man in his 60's squinted at the young man walking over. He was impatiently tapping his right foot as the other approached calmly. 

"I'm just the guy in charge of the team you give me." The young man shrugged and put his hands in his jacket casually. "Just like in the majors. GM puts the team together and the manager will play who he thinks is best on the roster."

"You still have some input." The older gentleman reminded him. Brent Coffey was the Team Director for the U16 Northwest Regional team. "This tryout is one of the most important with the quantity of players present. You know we won't get much from Oregon, Idaho, Montana, and Wyoming." He narrowed his eyes. "Those states will have one tryout each. Make sure you show up on time."

"The higher the quantity, the harder it is to find the diamond in the rough." The man started to look over the papers on the table. "See anything special yet?" The young man in his late twenties was Coach Robert Jacobsen, the youngest to head a regional team at any age level. 

"That's why we ask the kids to list their accomplishments, Rob. It highlights and draws attention to stars."

"Shouldn't their performance do that on their own?"

"Depends." Brent handed over a piece of paper. "Take a look at this."

Robert accepted the paper and gave it a glance. "Uh. Am I supposed to be seeing something here?" The numbers that graded the player were all average.

"This is the best player we have here today."

"Are you joking?" Robert's facial expression twisted into disbelief. "Are your guys grading to a higher standard or something? It's important to grade at the level that reflects the boy's age."

Brent handed over the next paper. "Here's the second part that covers the hitting stations like bunts and aiming for the opposite field."

It only took a second before Robert's jaw dropped. "Perfect scores? All around? Now you got me thinking that your guys are too lenient in grading." Robert pursed his lips and looked back and forth between the two sheets of paper. "These numbers shouldn't be so unbalanced. It makes sense to be better at certain positions on the field due to experience, but these batting numbers just feels fake. You're telling me a power hitter can perfectly place bunts ten out of ten times?"

"This is the best player we'll get from California." Brent grinned. "He put his state ranking down as number five, grabbing our attention before we even set up today. I checked again last night. His state ranking is number two now."

Robert let out a low whistle. "16-years-old and already number two?"

"He doesn't turn 16 until October." Brent told him. "This kid is a batting champion. I've looked him up. He's on a hit streak that goes back to his freshman year. Had the game-winning homer to help his team win the division three title last year too. Since then, he's been hitting more home runs while reaching base successfully every game this year. You'd be shocked how many walks he has too."

"Damn." Robert's eyes widened. "Why didn't we see this kid coming up last summer? Who does he play travel ball for?"

Brent shook his head. "None is listed. I've tried googling him but it's just a lot of highlights from this season. I did find an article that his older brother is Zeke Atkins. A first rounder from last year that declined to go pro and joined Stanford down the road."

Robert snapped his fingers. "I knew that last name sounded familiar. Makes think of those diet shakes." He rubbed his hands together. "Sounds like we have a cleanup hitter. Let me go see this guy in action."

Brent took the papers back and put them in a folder. He tucked it under his arm and started to walk. "They're do simulations on field one with the best of them. Tentatively. I've got coaches at all the fields keeping their eyes open so we don't miss a great play or a sleeper hiding among the regulars."

"I've got to say. You really have this under control." Robert complimented. "I've seen some GMs that just rule out no name guys simply because they don't have the pedigree."

"I'm not a GM." Brent corrected. "I'm the Team Director. I don't have to work with salaries or that nonsense. I'm strictly picking out the best players we can get our way." He gestured to a field they were passing. "Field two has some diamonds in the rough for you to take a look at too. This may be a team I'm building, but I'm looking to you to lead these kids to a couple of wins."

"Yea, yea. I know." He put his hands in his jacket pocket. "Let me get one look at the superstar and then I'll go scope out the other fillers."

"Don't call them that." The older man instructed. 

"I won't do it to their faces."

The pair reached field one and climbed the center bleacher reserved for coaches and staff. Multiple men were taking notes and commenting to one another on the players. 

"How's the pitchers looking, Hastings?" Brent sat behind one of the guys as he asked, taking a look over the man's shoulder. 

"Not great." The man shook his head. "Whenever I start thinking we have an ace, they bring up 334 and he crushes them."

"334?" Robert asked as he sat down and started scanning the field. 

"That's Jake Atkins." Brent answered. He pointed at a skinny teen of average height in the on deck circle. "Good timing. We'll see him in action soon."

"Let me save you the time." Hastings didn't even look up. "The kid gets a hit. Exactly to where Alex will request. He hasn't messed up once. I started to keep a different stat sheet for how pitchers do against him so their numbers look more normal without him making them look bad."

"Good idea." Brent nodded. 

"He's a tiny thing for being a power hitter." Robert put his elbows on his knees, leaning forward. 

"I wouldn't even classify him as a power hitter." Hastings commented. 

"Oh? What is he then?" Robert turned his head. 

"An anomaly." He replied. "This guy bats from both sides and hasn't messed up once. You ask him for a double and he'll hit the outfield fence. You want a sac bunt, he'll drop the ball perfectly down the third baseline, an equal distance from the third baseman, the pitcher, and the catcher. Heck, load up the bases, say two outs, give him an automatic two strikes, and even add that you're down by three. He'll hit to the corner for a home run."

"On one pitch? How's that possible?" Robert asked. 

"It's not just one pitch though." Hastings finally shifted to look him in the eyes. "He'll foul off as many pitches it takes before the pitcher messes up and throws something he's looking for. I'm telling you, the control he has at the plate is beyond belief. I've never seen any high schooler be able to purposely hit multiple foul balls consecutively. His size is deceiving. This is the best hitter I've seen at any level."

"Wow." Robert nodded. "Sounding more and more like our superstar."