Andrew Karre - High Heat

Text copyright 2012 by Lerner Publishing Group, Inc.

All rights reserved. International copyright secured. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any meanselectronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwisewithout the prior written permission of Lerner Publishing Group, Inc., except for the inclusion of brief quotations in an acknowledged review.

Darby Creek
A division of Lerner Publishing Group, Inc.
241 First Avenue North
Minneapolis, MN 55401 U.S.A.

Website address: www.lernerbooks.com

The images in this book are used with the permission of: Kelpfish/Dreamstime.com, p. 109; iStockphoto.com/ Jill Fromer, p. 112 (banner background); iStockphoto. com/Naphtalina, pp. 112, 113, 114 (brick wall background). Front Cover: Erik Isakson/CORBIS. Back Cover: Kelpfish/Dreamstime.com.

Main body text set in Janson Text 12/17.5.
Typeface provided by Adobe Systems.

Library of Congress CataloginginPublications Data

Karre, Andrew (Andrew Wade), 1978
High heat / by Andrew Karre.
p. cm. (Travel team)
ISBN 9780761383222 (lib. bdg. : alk. paper)
[1. BaseballFiction.] I. Title.
PZ7.K1495Hig 2012
[Fic]dc23 2011032695

Manufactured in the United States of America

1BP12/31/11

eISBN: 978-0-7613-8732-9 (pdf)

eISBN: 978-1-4677-7090-3 (ePub)

eISBN: 978-1-4677-3057-0 (mobi)

FOR STEP AND THROW.

The way a team plays as a whole
determines its success. You may have the
greatest bunch of individual stars in the
world, but if they dont play together, the
club wont be worth a dime.

BABE RUTH

CHAPTER

[Begin recorded counseling session.]

Doctor Blanc: How do you feel, Seth?

Seth Carter: Have you ever woken up after falling asleep on your arm? You know that feeling that your arm isnt really yours? Like its attached, but not totally under control? Well, thats kinda how my left arms felt ever since the surgery when I was fifteen.

No, thats not quite true. If Im really honest with myself, my left arm hasnt been all mine since I was ten or so. Thats when my dad first built the practice mound. He built it regulation, you know? 60 feet, 6 inches from the front of the rubber to the back tip of home plate. 10 inches higher than home plate...

Am I boring you with these statistics, Doc? No? Because I could go all SportsCenter on you if Im not careful. WHIP. ERA. OBPS. RBI. ERA. WAR.

When I think back, I knew these numbersthe dimensions, the statslike most kids knew their phone numbers.

Of course, I didnt throw off the mound when I was ten. Little League mounds are something like 45 feet. Funny, I really dont know that measurement. It never really mattered, I guess. 60 feet, 6 inches, .4 seconds. Thats where I was headed.

CHAPTER

Was it hard to leave Kansas City and come to Nevada?

We moved to Vegas for the last bit of my rehab, so not really. I was going nuts by then. Everybody I knewall my so-called friends were doing their own things. Baseball, mainlyand I couldnt do that, obviously.

Actually, it wasnt so obvious. You know, you dont get a cast for Tommy John surgery. Sure, you get a brace for a couple months, but eventually that comes off and you look normal. I remember that day, when I didnt need the brace.

I had my last therapy session, and the techRicksaid I was clear to ditch the brace.

Youre officially done with the robo-arm, kid, Rick said.

Really? I must have sounded like an idiot. I mean, I knew I wouldnt be in the brace forever, but to get through those horrible rehab sessions, I kinda just put my head down and stopped thinking.

Yep, he said, and he shook my hand. For a moment it felt like my arm. But dont get carried away. Youre still a few months away from pitching workouts. He was still gripping my hand, though. He wasnt being dainty about it either. It felt good.

Then I felt a hand on my shoulder. We know. That was my dad.

Suddenly it didnt feel like my arm any more.

After that, Dad drove us by the park where he knew a summer league team would be practicing. We stopped and got out. It was a practice day. I knew a few of the guys who were warming up with long toss near the edge of the parking lot. One of them recognized me. Yo, Seth. Hows it going? and he threw the ball my way. Totally cool. Friendly. Normal. Just a way of saying good to see you back on the field. Back in the game.

I caught the ball. Left handed, of course. Then I passed the ball over to my right and there was that hand on my shoulder again.

I know Dad was just reminding me. Heck, I might have thrown it without thinking. How lame would that be? To screw up my rehab five minutes after I got out of that stupid brace? I know what he meant by it. But still.

Anyway, I put the ball back in my left hand. Its good, I yelled back. Its good. Arms almost normal. Ill see you and with my left arm I underhanded the ball to him. It rolled to a stop at his feet.

...

Anyway, yeah. Leaving KC. I dont know about you, but I can only play so much Xbox. Moving to Vegas was great. Just great.

CHAPTER

Can you tell me more about the decision to have the procedure?

Procedure. That makes it sound so... I dont know... routine. Simple.

Do you know what Tommy John sorry, I should say ulnar collateral ligament reconstructionsurgery is?

The surgeon slices open your good arm, cuts a bit of ligament out, and then somehow they weave that ligament into the one in the screwed-up arm. Heck of a procedure, if you ask me. A miracle.

But youre a doctor, so you probably knew that. You asked about the decision to do it.

Looking back on it, I think I know when my dad got the idea for the surgery. It was after a summer league game. Id pitched seven innings against a bunch of U17 guys. Id struck out ten. No runs, just two hits. But it was a quality team, and theyd worked some deep counts. Id had to work to get those outs. Even then, I was baseball-smart enough to know that it would be better for me if I could pitch to contact a bit morecount on my defense to turn grounders into outs. But the infield behind me was Swiss cheese, and the offense had repaid my shutout with a one-run lead. So, pitching to contact? Not so much.

Id mixed in a lot of curves with my twoseamer, so I was already pretty sore when I faced the potential final out in the seventh. Kid before him had reached first on an error, took second on a passed ball (did I mention my catcher was worthless?), and then stole third standing up (yes, that worthless). Still, two outs, so the guy at bat was going to have to get a hit. And he gave it a shot, Ill say that. He must have fouled off five pitches before the count went full when my curve missed the corner. Stupid catcher called curve again, but I shook him off until he squared up for a fastball. Enough of this crap. Dude was going to strike out on this pitch or he was going to homer.

I never lost a game for that team, despite my teammates best efforts, so you figure out what happened on that last pitch.

I remember lining up for post-game handshakes, rubbing my elbow, and seeing my dad talking to our coach. I couldnt make out all he said, but he was pointing at the pitch counter he always kept on him at games.

Twenty minutes later, we were in the car and I was still rubbing my elbow.

I cant believe he left you out there for a hundred twenty pitches, my dad said. Well dont worry. I gave him an earful. Thats never happening again Hey, is something wrong with your arm?

...

The thing is, there wasnt anything wrongI mean, I was sore. But thats it. My dad wasnt convinced, though. I saw this doctor hed found online the next week. Two weeks later I was having surgery.

I remember sitting at the kitchen table together after the doctor said surgery was a good option. My dad had been happy.