"Be patient!" Mr. Miller said as he clapped his hands from the third base coaching box. It was a subtle reminder to make the pitcher work. I couldn't be like Noah and just hit the first pitch. Or maybe it's better to say that Noah couldn't be like me and work up the pitcher's count? That's kind of mean.
I stepped into the lefty's box, and got set. The pitcher adjusted himself and threw a breaking ball away for his first pitch. 1-0. The next pitch came in, making me jump out of the box. 2-0. The following pitch was low, yet I fouled it back. 2-1. I let another pitch pass for a ball. 3-1. Foul. 3-2. Foul. Foul. Foul. Foul. I made sure my fouls went down each baseline and bounced so I wouldn't accidentally hit a pop fly to somewhere that's catchable.
