The Time Shifter Chapter 71

Supernatural
2012-04-28

When what passed for my high school's spring training began, it waspretty crazy. MLB writers and scouts came just to watch my workouts. The Seattle Mariners, due to another season of one of the worstoffenses in recent major league annals, had finished with the worstrecord in all of baseball and held the first pick. So I was asked alot about my willingness to play for that organization, to which Ireplied it would be an honor even if their ballpark eats uprighthand hitters. Because of amateur rules, I hadn't been allowedto hire an agent yet, but I nonetheless vowed that a deal would getdone and, hopefully, quickly at that and structured in such a way asto not be too burdensome to the club if I washed out. The team'svociferous fan base, fed up with suspect ownership and an inabilityto develop power hitting prospects in its farm system, liked thosestatements a lot and many said that if they took anyone else theywould never follow the ballclub again.

Because of the attention I received last season, our games,including our supposed away contests, were booked at the sameballpark we played our final game at the previous year. We openedagainst the worst team in the league with probably 2,000 people inattendance, most of them with their cellphone cameras out. When Icame to bat in the first inning, the first pitch their hurler threwme was a low 80's fastball that was as straight as a string on theinner half and  up (he had obviously overthrown it). I clobbered iton to the freeway well over 500 feet away. I didn't stand there andadmire it because I hate that bush league shit. I lit out like a batout of hell for first until the umpire signaled home run and thenwent into my trot. It was named ESPN's "play of the day" and wasalso featured on Baseball Tonight.

The gargantuan size of that shot put the pitcher on his heels and hecontinued to overthrow. We had hit him up for a four spot by thetime I came to bat again, this time with the bags juiced. Theycalled in a new pitcher, who threw me a hanging curve ball, and Itorched it off the chain link fence that bordered the freeway.

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   Thenwhen I came up in the second with a man on and my side up 11-0, theythrew at me. That pitch had nothing on it, though, and I easilybacked away from it. As I expected, he attempted to throw a slideraway and I belted it off the top of the rightfield wall for a tripleand came home on a wild pitch. I asked out of the game so our benchplayers could get some at bats. When I didn't come out to playcenter in the top of the third, the crowd groaned and left.

The next game was a complete joke. Because of the tv coverage, anestimated more than 5,000 fans turned out. The beginning of the gamehad to be delayed so that the police could mobilize to handle thecrowd size. Traffic immediately in front of the park, which was onthe major thoroughfare in town, was at a standstill since parkingran out very quickly and people were cruising around the surroundingneighborhoods seeking a spot. There was some talk it would becanceled, but the cops opted against that due to fears of a riot. Inthe first inning, those fans booed when the pitcher wouldn't throwme a strike and I took a four pitch walk. The pitcher, a junior, gotto feel what it was like to be heckled by a big throng. I stolesecond and third and came home on a slow roller to short.

The next time I came up was in the third with one out and two on. Again , the first two pitches were balls.

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   Then he left his fastballa couple inches on the plate but about knee high near the outsidecorner and I pounded it well beyond the rightfield wall. I wasintentionally walked the next two times up, but we won 7-2 anyway.

Now what were we going to do for our next faceoff? It was a homegame for us, but we couldn't afford to move it to Angels Stadium. Sowe ended up playing it at Cal State Fullerton in front of anoverflow turnout. The opponent was the team that won our league'stitle last year and they scored three runs off of us in the first totake the lead. Their hillsman threw me nothing but sliders, thefirst two in the dirt, the third one he hung middle out and I searedit on a line off the scoreboard in centerfield. They scored two morein the second to widen their advantage to 5-1. I came up in thebottom of the inning with the bases loaded and they intentionallywalked me to force in a run, resulting in the pitcher being on thereceiving end of all kinds of verbal abuse. The "pussy, pussy" chantreared its head loudly and this rattled the pitcher, who walked thenext two men, too, to make it a one run ballgame. He hung anotherslider and our cleanup hitter took it downtown and we were up 8-5. We lit up the reliever for two more runs, but they came back for tworuns of their own.

The next time I came to the plate, the catcher signaled for fourwide ones and the crowd went bonkers, especially since there wasnobody on. Trash was tossed on to the field and the pitcher washaving his manhood challenged by hecklers. Now the chant was,"faggot, faggot" as he delivered the intentional walk. When I got tofirst, he started holding the ball and stepping off or throwing overto first a lot, which infuriated the crowd even more.

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   When hefinally threw the ball, he left it right down the pipe to our numbertwo hitter, who lined it into the gap, and I motored around toscore. Then between innings, a police officer had words with theother team's coach. I have no idea what it was about. But when Icame up in the the seventh, they pitched to me with two men on. Itwas another heater that got too much of the plate and I almost hitit on to Yorba Linda Blvd. The final score was 14-10, definitely notpretty.

While all that shit was going on, Red Sentinel was in the process ofbooking its first North America summer club tour. Our cd was aroundthe 50,000 mark in copies sold by that time. There was also a lot ofinterest in Japan and Europe and we would address those a couplemonths later once we had the U. S. and Canada dates finalized. Infact, we would be out on the road when the MLB draft would be heldin late June. I had taken delivery of our tour bus and rented onefor our now 12 man road, security and video crew. We also had a teamof four bus drivers. In addition, I bought a truck to haul ourequipment in and hired drivers for that, too.

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   I was going to lose ashitload of money on the tour, but it was a trivial amount againstmy overall fortune.

Anyway, my team won all of its games and I was named county, stateand national High School Player of the Year after I didn't make anout all season (14 games---small sample size, but oh well). We wentto the state tournament at the beginning of June, which was held atDodger Stadium, and there we faced another hot amateur prospect,pitcher Horacio Calderon, who was reputed to throw in the mid tohigh 90's. The first pitch he threw me was clocked at 96mphaccording to the stadium scoreboard. No word on  how fast it leftthe yard, because I hit it on a line into the back section of theleftfield stands, eliciting oohs and aahs from the small crowd thatwas there. My second at bat, he threw me a poor excuse for a slider,but there was enough of a difference with his number one that I wasslightly out on my front side when I made contact and sliced it intothe first row of the rightfield stands near the foul pole. That tiedthe game 2-2. None of my teammates could do anything with Calderon,who struck me out on a high fastball out of the zone in my thirdplate appearance and our pitching was suspect to begin with, so wedropped the contest 6-3. I cracked another titanic homer againstCalderon's successor in the ninth.

That put us in the loser's bracket in the double eliminationtournament. Sunday,  in my first at bat, which was televised live onESPN during their Sunday Night Baseball game, I got a low 90'smiddle out thigh high fastball and beat the living daylights out ofit, rocketing it over the roof in leftcenter and into the parkinglot. No, I couldn't believe it, either. It had to be close to 600feet. An ESPN reporter tried to interview me during the game, but Iwaved him off, saying that I didn't want to show up my teammates orthe other team. That shot got me nominated for an ESPY, too, but Inever showed up at the ceremony because I was on tour.

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   I wouldn'thave gone anyway. That knocked the pitcher off of his emotionalmoorings and we put up a five spot in that inning, capped off by abases clearing triple from our seven hole hitter. I then leadoff thesecond and rammed a slider down and away into the rightfield cornerfor a triple and scored on a squeeze. We couldn't hold that lead,though, and our opponent stormed back to tie it in the fourth. Thenext time I came up, we had men on second and third, so with a baseopen, they walked me and then we couldn't score. My fourth time up,there was no one on, so they pitched to me and I overswung a bit andhit the top half of the ball hard for a single to left. I stolesecond and third, but our next hitter popped up and that was theinning. In the ninth, I was up with a man on first and they had atwo run lead, so they walked me and that was how I ended myschoolboy career.

When I  got to school Monday, because they had shown that drive Ihit at Dodger Stadium on the local and national news and talkedabout how I was likely going to be the top MLB draft pick, now evenpeople who had never met or seen me knew who I was and I got buggedfor autographs and photos the whole day. Some girls I had never met before sent nakedpictures of themselves to my band's Facebook and homepage emailaddresses. My webmaster deleted the lot and I never responded tothose overtures. I was called into the office to meet with localreporters who had shown up to try to talk to me. When I saw them, Ijust turned around and walked away, closing my classroom's door onthem and having my teacher lock it. They followed me to my secondperiod class and I finally had to call the police to have themkicked out. I phoned my security people and had them accompany me tomy other classes.

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I didn't go home after school. Instead, our security hustled bothValerie and me off to our warehouse complex, where we spent thenight. I ordered my webmaster to just delete any email requests fromthe media for interviews through the weekend unless they were fromheavy metal or guitar  magazines. Just as a precaution, I had mysecurity with me the entire rest of the week.

The middle of June, school ended. That Friday, we hit the road,landing in San Diego that night  before heading north and then,after Seattle, heading east. We had press turning up wanting tointerview me about baseball, but I had our security inform them thatbaseball was off the table so long as we were on tour. A lot ofbaseball bloggers came out to see us anyway and we read headlineslike: "Clint Parker and Red Sentinel: Not Just Another Dumb JockVanity Project. "

The following Monday was the draft and the Mariners took me first. We were in Portland at the time and so the sports guys in thePacific Northwest flocked to our show to interview me, but oursecurity people told them that we wouldn't be doing baseballinterviews until after the end of the tour. Then some team officialsshowed up to our show in Seattle and I had them kicked out for beingtoo much of a distraction. They didn't like that too much, but toughshit. I technically wasn't a member of the team yet. That really setbaseball tongues clacking along the lines of, "does Parker reallywant to play baseball?" and "what the f*** is up with this guy?"

What was up with me was the girls who showed up to take care of mysexual needs and, by extension, those of our road crew and the rest ofthe group. To get to me, after my head of security checked their ID'sand had them sign statements acknowledging what they were about to dowould be filmed  for our protection,, I made every girl blow one of ourroadies, video crew, truck or bus drivers or security.

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   Gotta take ofyour homies, you know what I'm sayin'? So we'd all be sitting  in thebus and there would be these lumps of long hair in the groins of mycrew. The first girl got one of my bus drivers off, so I took her in theback and slammed my meat into her, spearing her petite littleItalian-American self to several orgasms before serving her her reward,big dollops of my cum.

Of course, it would take me a few minutes to get it back up, so I wouldsay to the other hopeful females, "you know what would really turn me onand speed things along? Rub your pussies together. " Some of themrefused, calling me "a pig" for making that request, which would thenget them tossed off the bus. That slowed the roll of the other girls,who then meekly complied with whatever I told them to do, includingblowing and stroking band members only to then be told that we had tomove on to our next destination, leaving them out in the dark with semenin their stomachs and only a couple with my fluid in their cunts.

Knowing that these bitches were there almost exclusively for me and mymoney, by providing a chance for my band and crew to use them, thegroupies and whores got nothing out of it except inadvertently promotingthe esprit d'corps of our little band of road warriors.
.