Nobody answered him.
I wanted to know too.
But Raymond had been careful.
He hadn’t promised that the number was real.
He hadn’t claimed Holloway definitely altered the radar.
He only said that the first reading needed independent verification.
I respected that.
He wasn’t trying to make me famous.
He was trying to make sure nobody lied about what happened.
Raymond approached me.
“DeShawn.”
I straightened.
“Yes, sir?”
“How’s your arm?”
“Good.”
“Any pain?”
“No, sir.”
He nodded.
“That’s good.”
Then he looked toward my damaged cleats.
“Those shoes need replacing before you do any more pitching.”
My face grew hot.
“I know.”
He crouched slightly.
“Why are they taped?”
I hesitated.
“Because the soles were separating.”
“How long have they been like that?”
I looked down.
“A few months.”
Raymond’s expression changed.
“You’ve been pitching in shoes like those?”
I nodded.
“My mom tried to buy me new ones.”
Behind the fence, Tanya looked away.
I continued.
“But we had to pay the registration fee.”
Raymond remained silent.
I felt embarrassed.
The expensive cleats worn by the other players had bright colors and polished logos.
Mine were faded black.
The right sole was cracked.
The left heel had been repaired twice.
I knew what people saw when they looked at me.
A kid who didn’t belong.
A kid whose family couldn’t afford serious baseball.
A kid who would probably disappear after one disappointing tryout.
Raymond stood.
“DeShawn, listen carefully.”
I looked up.
“Equipment can help protect an athlete, but expensive shoes don’t determine whether somebody understands pitching.”
I swallowed.
“Yes, sir.”
“Your mechanics are promising.”
My heart jumped.
“Really?”
He nodded.
“But I want them evaluated under proper conditions.”
I glanced toward Holloway.
“Will he let me?”
Raymond followed my gaze.
“That’s a question for the program administration.”
Then he added something I wouldn’t forget.
“And if they refuse without a legitimate reason, there are other places to play baseball.”
I looked toward the field.
For years, Weston had seemed like the most important baseball complex in the region.
Its teams traveled to expensive tournaments.
Its players received invitations from college coaches.
Its uniforms appeared in promotional videos online.
I had believed that getting noticed here might change my life.
Now Raymond was telling me that this wasn’t the only door.
The thought was comforting.
But I still wanted to understand why this particular door had nearly been slammed in my face.
A few minutes later, Daniel returned with an older groundskeeper.
The man wore faded green work clothes.
His name patch read HAROLD SIMMONS.
He walked slowly toward the mound.
Holloway immediately intercepted him.
“Harold, we’re handling this.”
The groundskeeper stopped.
Raymond approached.
“Mr. Simmons?”
“Yes?”
“I’m Raymond Cole.”
Harold nodded.
“I know who you are.”
Raymond pointed toward the exposed marker.
“Did you install this yesterday?”
Harold looked down.
His expression changed.
“That wasn’t supposed to be covered.”
The entire group went quiet.
Holloway stepped forward.
“Harold, be careful.”
The groundskeeper looked at him.
“I’m telling him what I know.”
Raymond moved closer.
“What was the purpose of the marker?”
Harold scratched his cheek.
“We were told it was for a special distance comparison.”
“Who told you?”
Harold looked uncomfortable.
“The instruction came through Coach Holloway.”
Holloway shook his head.
“That’s not accurate.”
Harold frowned.
“I have the work order.”
The coach’s face tightened.
Raymond held out his hand.
“May we see it?”
Harold nodded.
“It’s in the shed.”
Holloway moved between them.
“That work order is internal.”
Harold looked confused.
“It’s a maintenance request.”
Raymond nodded.
“Then it should be easy to verify.”
I watched Holloway’s jaw clench.
He looked around at the spectators.
More people had gathered.
Some were wearing Midwest Titans uniforms.
Others were parents from neighboring fields.
The original tryout had stopped completely.
Everyone wanted to know what had happened beneath Field Three.
Harold continued.
“I installed the temporary marker because the written request said there would be an equipment test before the tryout.”
Raymond frowned.
“What kind of test?”
“Radar comparison.”
My stomach tightened.
Raymond looked toward the two radar guns.
“Did you participate?”
Harold shook his head.
“No, sir.”
“Who did?”
The groundskeeper hesitated.
“Coach Holloway and a couple of older players.”
Raymond glanced toward the large cleat impressions around the marker.
“That would explain the footprints.”
Harold nodded.
“Probably.”
Holloway laughed sharply.
“There’s your answer.”
Raymond turned toward him.
“Not quite.”
The coach stopped smiling.
Raymond pointed at the buried marker.
“Why was it concealed before the official tryout?”
Holloway folded his arms.
“Because it wasn’t needed anymore.”
Harold frowned.
“That wasn’t what I was told.”
The coach’s face turned pale.
Raymond looked at the groundskeeper.
“What were you told?”
Harold swallowed.
“To leave it exactly where it was until the evaluation ended.”
My heart began pounding.
I looked toward the regulation pitching rubber.
The hidden marker sat several feet closer to home plate.
Someone had deliberately shortened the distance for a separate test.
Then someone had covered it.
And the equipment had been used again during my tryout.
Raymond remained still.
“Harold, did the work order say who would be evaluated?”
The groundskeeper hesitated.
“Yes.”
“Who?”
Harold looked at me.
Then he answered.
“DeShawn Brooks.”
I felt cold.
My mother pushed through the gate.
“Why was my son’s name on a maintenance order?”
Harold looked genuinely distressed.
“I don’t know, ma’am.”
She approached Holloway.
“Did you arrange special equipment for my son?”
The coach stepped backward.
“Mrs. Brooks, calm down.”
Her eyes flashed.
“Don’t tell me to calm down.”
I had rarely heard my mother speak so sharply.
She was usually patient.
Even when exhausted, she thanked people who helped us.
Even when bills arrived unexpectedly, she sat quietly and worked out a plan.
But now she stood before the man who had mocked her son’s poverty.
And her voice shook with anger.
“I worked two overnight shifts to pay for this evaluation.”
Holloway looked away.
She continued.
“You told him those shoes made him a joke.”
