Date: Tue, 14 Feb 2023 19:17:28 +0000
From: Douglas DD <thehakaanen@hotmail.com>
Subject: Mayfield Magic  Chapter 21

Greetings and welcome back to the Mayfield Magic. This is Day 2 of the big
BaseBrawl. Be sure to read Chapter 59 of The Boys of East Harbor, which the
Brat will be posting it today as well. Also, watch for Chapter 22, which is
also about Day 2 to post tomorrow.

Please donate to the Nifty Archive.

Emails are appreciated. thehakaanen@hotmail.com
Douglas

CHAPTER 21
BASEBRAWL-DAY 2.  THE FESTIVAL

WEDNESDAY, JULY 29

<Carlsbad Resort>

Larry groaned when his phone alarm went off. He had set it for seven, which
was later than he woke up during the school year, but it somehow seemed
hours earlier. He had no doubt that sitting up talking baseball with James
and Eric until after midnight was the major reason seven o'clock felt so
early. As he rose from his bed, he looked at the unslept-in half of the
king. Phil was scheduled to arrive Thursday afternoon and Larry was looking
forward to seeing his husband.

After showering, shaving, and dressing, he checked his phone for text
messages and saw he had two. One was from Robert Perez, the tournament
committee chairman, and the other was from Phil. Phil's message received
priority. It consisted of two words: "Call Me". That didn't sound at all
encouraging to Larry. He checked the time and figured Phil was either
already at work or in his truck on the way to work. Either way, it was
likely he was available to answer the phone, so he called Phil.

Phil was in his truck on Highway 12. He pushed the phone answering icon on
his steering wheel engaging the Bluetooth as soon as he heard the phone
sound over the truck's speakers.

"Good morning, Larry," Phil said.

"Good morning, studly, and thanks for not waking me up with whatever your
urgent message is," Larry said.

"I needed to talk to you right away, but not urgently. I figured after your
busy day yesterday extra sleep was part of your game plan."

"I set my alarm for seven."

"You always have been a glutton for punishment. What I called about is
we're having some soil issues with the expansion of County Road 51. It's
near the bridge of the Chehalis River. It should be an easy fix, but it's
something Lewis has no experience with." Lewis Carlson was the assistant
county road supervisor and was relatively new to the job. He was also
Marty's father. "I want to work with him today and tomorrow on getting the
fix started so he can take charge on Friday. I'll be taking tomorrow's
eight p.m flight to Orange County."

"Well, you'll still be here on Thursday, then, just later."

"Yep. Sorry to miss the opening day, but it is what it is."

"Text me the details and I'll have somebody drive the van to the airport to
pick you up."

"Sounds good," Phil said. "And, how about I don't do any coaching. I'll be
a happy spectator and willing to do consultations or even some
scouting. For a reasonable fee of course."

"Of course. We'll keep in contact, and I'll see you sometime tomorrow
night."

"I'll be looking forward to it. I love you."

"I love you too, you big stud," Larry said before disconnecting. Larry
wasn't concerned about Phil not wanting to coach. Phil had said that he
felt the coaching should be left up to those who've been actively involved
with the team, which hadn't been the case with him, mainly because he had
his own team to coach. He knew that Phil had made his comment about not
coaching as a point of emphasis, not as something that was new.

Besides, teams were allowed only the head coach and two assistant coaches
on the field during a game. That meant the same coaches from start to
finish, so if a team had more than three coaches they couldn't switch off
from inning to inning. Since Kevin was due in that evening, Larry figured
he would be sitting in the stands with his husband once Kevin was ready to
take over his responsibilities. Larry would maintain his role as business
manager and planned to add some scouting to his duties, as long as it
didn't interfere with his watching the Goats play.

Only four players had arrived in the banquet room by eight o'clock and were
all from the Surrey Mounties. Larry and one of the assistants from the
Tucson team were the only coaches to come in early. The coaches introduced
themselves and sat together; the Tucson coach was Gary Patnode, who was the
pitching coach as well as first base coach for the Arizona team.

"Leave it to the Canadians to have the early bird players," Gary
chuckled. "They'll take over the world if we don't watch our backs."

"I think we're safe," Larry said. "We're only seeing four of seventeen
players."

"Which is an infinite number more than the other three teams have in this
palatial room."

"Good point."

The conversation stopped when three more Mounties arrived. Larry recognized
them as the two players Aiden, Gordy, Nolan, and Mason had befriended:
Tommy and Warren, along with the Australian boy, whose name he had
forgotten.

"I rest my case," Gary grinned as two of the Mounty coaches entered the
banquet room along with James Hallion. The trio joined Larry and Gary and
introductions were made.

The next set of boys to arrive were Trent, Mac, and Muddy, who were
roommates. They greeted the coaches and sat in the Goats' section.

"Those are some big boys. I hope this place stocks enough food to feed
them," Shelby Malone, the Mounty head coach said of the three Goats.

"Oh, I'm sure they've done this before and have a good idea how much a
resort full of young adolescents can scarf down," James said.

"They haven't met my team yet," Gary grinned.

"As Shelby, who we played in the Federal Way tournament knows, a large
number of my players aren't even average in size, let alone big boys, and
they might end up helping to balance the food consumption out." With more
players arriving, the Mounty and Tucson coaches moved to their own team's
section; the table where the coaches had been sitting was in the Goats'
section.

By ten to nine almost all of the tables were filled and the waitstaff was
busy taking orders. Eric arrived at the banquet room the same time as
Dallas Baker. They traded fist bumps and took a seat at the Goat coaches'
table with James and Larry.

At nine, James surveyed his team's tables. His count told him that all of
his players had arrived for breakfast. Having known Dallas when he was in
middle school and high school, Eric and Larry were interested in hearing
his story. James was always interested in hearing a new bit of Mayfield
history and was keen to hear the story as well. But he also kept a keen eye
on the players' tables.

They knew that Dallas had come from a rough upbringing. Drug and alcohol
addiction held him back as a student, an athlete, and as a person. But he
was taken under the wing of the middle school's chief custodian, Milton,
aka The Schnoz. Dallas ended up living with him. Milton, who was a
recovering alcoholic, helped Dallas get sober and finally grow up. Marty
also became an influence in Dallas's life by being a mentor as well his AA
sponsor. James was the only person at the table who didn't know the story
and Eric was the one who knew it best, having known Dallas in school. What
none of them knew is what happened to Dallas after he left Mayfield.

When Dallas graduated from high school, something few predicted he would do
when he was in middle school and early high school, he figured he would
spend his life in the Lewis County area, most likely in his hometown of
Mayfield. But Milton had been telling him his entire senior year it was
time for him to spread his wings and encouraged him to apply for college,
especially when he made the honor roll the first two quarters of his senior
year.

Milton and the senior guidance counselor helped him. One of the places
Milton strongly suggested he apply was San Diego State. Milton said his
brother lived in Huntington Beach and was an SD State grad. He was willing
to take Dallas in if he was accepted to the university. He was a widower
whose children were grown and out of the house.

Much to his surprise, Dallas was accepted there as well as all three
colleges he applied to in Washington. He also received a partial
scholarship at San Diego State. When Dallas said he could never afford to
go, Milton told him not to worry about money. That's when Dallas learned
that his mentor had spent his life being frugal and had built up a nice
nest egg. That was the good news. The bad news was Milton telling him he
had pancreatic cancer and the prognosis wasn't good.

"Long story short, Milton died a month after I graduated. I was his sole
heir and received a tidy sum of money. His brother, Edwin, took me in and
treated me like family. As Coach Sanders can tell you, during my senior
year I took an interest in baseball, even though I was shit as a
player. But he gave me a uniform and I became a star benchwarmer."

"That's not totally true," Larry laughed. "He was eager to learn and became
a decent utility player the last half of the season. He was good with his
glove and his hitting improved. But most importantly, he was smart and
studied the game. He knew more about how the game was played than a lot of
my starters by the time the season ended. Then he played Legion Ball for
the summer and really blossomed."

Dallas smiled and went on with his story. "After I moved to California, I
learned that Uncle Edwin was a highly regarded youth coach in the San Diego
area, and I helped him as an assistant. I also worked hard enough to earn a
roster spot on the college team as a walk-on, mainly because I could play
multiple positions. That said, last spring I graduated with a degree in
business administration and am working on my MBA with the financial help of
Uncle Edwin. This year was going to be his last year as a head coach, but
health issues forced him to step down three games into the season. Since I
was assisting him, I stepped up as interim head coach. He returned to the
dugout right around the Fourth of July but decided to come back as an
assistant. And so, I am still the head coach of the Ocean View All-Stars,
the Huntington Beach squad. And, trust me, that is the short version."

Eric and Larry were impressed by how articulate Dallas had become. Eric
knew that Milton had driven academics into the lost boy he had taken under
his wing, and that included the use of the English language, both spoken
and written. College had been a huge influence as well.

"Does Marty know your story?" Eric asked.

"I've kept in contact with him, so the answer is yes," Dallas said. "I've
seen him briefly when he's played down here in Southern California. We both
agree we need to get together for a long visit and discuss old and new
times. I'm looking forward to seeing him at the Mariner/Angel game we'll be
going to."

"There's a good chance he'll be coming by the tournament on Saturday."

"Awesome. He is one amazing dude." Dallas finished off his last bite of
breakfast and said he had to get going. "Our team meeting is at ten-thirty
at the Beach's community center. I'll see you guys at noon for the draw."
He stood up, shook the hands of the three coaches, and left the banquet
room.

"Wow. There goes one incredible guy," Eric said. "I never dreamed he would
turn into that kind of a success. I know Aiden communicates a lot with
Marty. I wonder if Marty ever told Dallas's story to him."

"My guess is he never has," Larry replied. "He may have mentioned he knows
Dallas, but he would never break Dallas's anonymity by telling his story."

"I hope Aiden gets to learn it some time. It's quite inspirational."

"And speaking of team meetings, let's gather up the thundering herd and go
to meeting room A for our get together," James told the coaches.

Meeting room A was a small room with comfortable furniture. Although the
Carlsbad was considered a resort, it often hosted weekend or even weeklong
business gatherings, hence the various meeting rooms.

The eighteen boys and three coaches settled in for what Coach Hallion had
promised would be a short meeting. "First, thanks for your great behavior
and the good manners you displayed at breakfast, especially the effort many
of you made to get to know some of the players on the other teams, and even
sit with them." In this instance, Coach Hallion was referring to Aiden,
Gordy, Mason, and Nolan sitting at a table with three players from the
Mounties.

"Also, thanks for being on time. As you know, morning recreation until
eleven-thirty is up to you. The pool is open, and the beach is
available. Coach Simmons will be at the beach, and you must be within his
sight. Remember the highway is a busy one and to be sure to cross at the
main crosswalk. Always push the button to activate the walk light."

Coach Hallion knew he probably sounded like a teacher preaching to a
kindergarten class, but he felt obligated to make sure his charges
understood how the crosswalk lights operated and how to use them. "There is
nothing like this in Mayfield, of course, and Centralia doesn't have this
kind of independent crosswalk light system. So make sure you understand how
it works before crossing the highway."

He went on to tell the players to be ready to board the bus at
eleven-thirty. "You will be required to wear your uniform shirts."

"Don't you mean our practice shirts?" Max asked, happy he was able to catch
Coach Hallion making a slip.

"No, Max, I mean your uniform shirts, as in your game shirts. This is a
tournament requirement for the festival. But before you ask, it's okay to
wear shorts—the shirt requirement is so everyone will see us as a
team. You've all been told how the festival will unfold this afternoon but
let me review a few things and answer any questions before you go." The
coach spent around five minutes going through the schedule for the day and
the rules for staying together. The major rule was they had to move around
the complex in groups of three or more. Eric then distributed wrist bands
to each of the players and Rusty. As far the players were concerned, the
wrist bands were the most important thing in their possession as they gave
them free food at the food trucks, free games, free clinics, and free entry
to the concert as well as access to the front section of seats.

"Any more questions?" Coach Hallion asked.

Cal raised his hand and was called on. "I don't have a question, I got
something to say," he said. He then told his new teammates he had a plan
for some Yard Goat fun and would take his trumpet to the field if the team
agreed with the plan. Cal told them the plan and team agreed to do it. They
thought it would be great fun.

Most of the boys chose to stay at the pool rather than head for the
beach. Jaden and Alex had told them the day before that the ocean water
could be pretty cold, especially in the morning and suggested they hang out
at the pool where the water would be warmer and they wouldn't have to sit
on the sand. The resort had lounge chairs and cabanas in one section of the
beach for the use of guests, but they wouldn't be available until the
afternoon.

"Yeah, but the pool will be packed with all the kids from four teams," Mac
pointed out.

"Maybe not. I think the Utah team is having some kind of a private function
in one of the dining rooms. And the Tucson team might not have friends like
Alex and Jaden to give them the skinny about the beach," Aiden said. A few
of the Goats were surprised and pleased to hear Aiden refer to Alex as a
friend. Aiden and Nolan had passed the information about the water to the
Canadians during breakfast.

Max, Rusty, Cal, Muddy, and Miles went with Eric to the beach. Aiden and
Nolan went to their room and Lenny and Riley went to theirs. The rest of
the team hung out at the pool. They enjoyed meeting players from the other
teams. After all, part of the fun of being in a big tournament was making
new baseball friends.

<Aiden and Nolan>

"It's been fun meeting some of the Arizona dudes, but I think it would be
even more fun taking advantage of time by ourselves in our room," Aiden
said to Nolan.

"I like how you think, Sweet Cakes," Nolan responded.

Aiden told Mason that he and Nolan would be having a quick round of fun in
their room. Mason promised to stay out until eleven ten, figuring that
twenty-minutes would give them plenty of time to dress and get to the bus.


"You should have plenty of time," Aiden said. "We plan on being quick."


"Guess you guys must be pretty horny," Mason smirked.

"Something like that."

 The crowd in the pool courtyard made it easy for Aiden and Nolan to slip
away. They held hands from the pool until they got to their room. As soon
as Nolan closed the door, he and Aiden pulled off their swimming
trunks. Since they'd never gone into the pool, the suits were dry.

They dropped onto the bed they had shared the night before, exchanging
hard, wet kisses, and they felt all over each other's smooth, athletic
bodies. One moment Aiden was on top, and the next moment Nolan was as they
rolled around the king bed, grunting and moaning with passion. Their
rock-hard pubescent cocks left thin trails of precum on their partner's
skin.

"Is the big Bear gonna be the top?" Aiden squeaked.

"Show me your ass," Nolan replied.

Aiden raised his legs to show his smooth tween ass and his pink hole. Nolan
reached into the nightstand next to the bed and pulled out a tube of
lube. He quickly lubed his cock and Aiden's crack, and the Sugar Bear
entered his Sweet Cakes. The pounding was hard and deep and it didn't take
long for Nolan to dump his teen cum inside his boyfriend. It was the first
time the two had made love in another state. They were certain it wouldn't
be the last. Their lovemaking had been quick, but incredibly intense.

"We might as well shower and dress," Aiden said as the two regained their
senses and shared a kiss.

"Sounds like a plan," Nolan nodded.

After taking a quick shower together, they dressed in shorts, their uniform
shirts, as instructed, and socks and shoes. They also had their equipment
bags packed with their cleats, gloves, and practice shirts. They planned to
change on the bus as needed.

Mason entered the room just as they were tying their shoes. "Dang, dudes, I
was hoping to see you guys bouncing on the bed," Mason said. "But your
messed up bed tells me you did some serious bouncing. Remember, you told me
you'd let me join you once."

"Don't worry your ass over it, Mason," Nolan said. "And we said we would
include you if the opportunity presented itself, as my dad would say. But,
this first time here in Cali was for Aiden and me."

"I know, I know, I wasn't complaining about that. I understand. I was just
reminding you guys us roomies gotta try hard to have a three way."

"With the three of us together in one room, how could it not happen?" Aiden
asked.

Aiden and Nolan waited for Mason to go into the shower to quickly rinse off
the chlorine from the pool and dress. The roomies then headed for the
loading area where the team bus was waiting for them.

<Lenny, Riley, and Skip>

Aiden and Nolan weren't the only ones to have a quick session in their
room. Lenny, Riley, and Skip enjoyed a roll on the bed Lenny and Riley had
shared the night before. The three tweens were happy to kiss, lick, suck
each other, and rub their cocks over each other. The fun came to a climax
when Riley rubbed his three inches on Skip's face and squirted two clear
drops of watery cum on his left cheek. Skip then got on top of Lenny and
humped him, quickly sending Lenny over the top as he shot his more
plentiful load of tween cum against Skip's torso, which caused Skip to
shake with a dry cum.

The three roomies then enjoyed a quick three-person shower, dressed, and
headed for the bus. Five of the Goats had gotten the festival off to an
early and sexy start. The same was true of Asher, Tommy, and Warren, the
gay boys on the Surrey Mounties.

<The Mission Sports Park>

As Eric watched the Goats pile off the bus he decided not to interfere. The
boys seemed perfectly capable of exiting the bus without injuring each
other without his guidance. `They're mere steps away from being seasoned
airplane passengers,' he thought.

As the Goats crept down the aisle of the bus toward the door, Aiden noted
that Cal was carrying his trumpet case, which ensured his plan would be in
effect.

In the parking lot the Goats were met by a pair of high school boys wearing
San Diego Padre tee shirts. They introduced themselves as Gavin and Troy
and said they would be the ushers for the Yard Goats. The high school
ushers had been one of the topics discussed at the team's morning
meeting. They were students as well as baseball players at San Marcos High
School.

"What the heck is a Yard Goat?" Gavin asked.

The team was quickly getting used to the question and competed to be the
first to answer. "It has to do with trains," Grant said quickly. The rest
of the team stopped and let him continue.

After Grant told Gavin and Troy the answer, they took the boys to Field 1
and guided them to row five behind two signs that set off their seating
area. The seats to their left were already occupied by the Huntington Beach
team. Eric and Dallas were pleased how that had worked out and situated
themselves so they could sit next to each other. Dallas introduced Vince
Curry, one of his assistant coaches. He was a student at San Diego State
and a member of the school's baseball team. He couldn't play in the area's
college level summer league because he had injured his knee with two games
left in the college season and had to sit out. When Dallas had to take over
the team, he asked Vince to be an assistant, an offer the college sophomore
gladly accepted as a way for him to stay directly connected to baseball
while he rehabbed his knee.

By twelve o'clock the sixteen teams had been efficiently seated in their
assigned sections by the high school ushers. Manuel stood at the microphone
that was set up at home plate. He quickly brought the raucous players to
order and welcomed them to the tournament. He had met some of the teams
during their practices. He then introduced Robert Perez, the tournament
director.

 The director reminded the players of the logistics of the draw. Each team
had a note card with their name in a box on the table set up in front of
the microphone. He would begin with the pick for the 12:30 game on Field 1
by drawing two cards out of the box. The head coach and one of the captains
from each team would come down to the field, using the gate at the first
base dugout. Manuel would flip a quarter and the captain of the team that
traveled the farthest to the tournament would call the flip. The matchup
would be announced, and the team names would appear on the jumbo screen
situated in left center field. While Robert was explaining what would be
happening, Cal slyly removed his trumpet from its case.

Robert pulled the first card out of the box, read it, and announced the
team. "The Summerlin All-Stars from Las Vegas, Nevada." A player rose from
his seat, but one of the ushers signaled him to wait. He'd forgotten he had
to wait until both teams had been announced before he started down the
aisle. Perez pulled out the second card, raised his eyebrows a notch, and
said, "The Torrance All-Star Bulldogs from Torrance California."

The coaches and captains stood and one of the ushers from each team guided
them down to the gate, which was left open for the ceremony, and led them
to the table where Manuel and Robert shook their hands. He had their names
on a sheet attached to his clipboard.

He pointed to the pair wearing the Torrance uniform shirts and spoke into
the microphone. "Allow me to introduce Coach Frank Parker and team captain
Carl Floyd of the Torrance All-Stars Bulldogs. And from Las Vegas, Coach
Andrew Jankovich and captain Lenny Griffin of the Summerlin All-Star." Up
in the stands, Riley gave Lenny a friendly punch to his arm when he heard
the name Lenny being announced. The members of the Torrance and Summerlin
teams cheered and whistled as the names of the two teams appeared on the
jumbo screen."

"Since the team from Nevada has come the farthest, Lenny will call the flip
into his microphone." The Las Vegas usher picked a portable microphone off
the table and handed it to Lenny, who called an emphatic, "Heads!"

Manuel straddled home plate and flipped the quarter. It landed on the
plate, bounced once, and came to rest. "The coin reads heads," he
announced.

"We'll take home," Lenny said. He'd been through his share of coin flips
during the season to know what to choose. The Las Vegas team cheered as
Lenny climbed up the steps to their row.

"The next draw is for Game 2, 12:30 on Field 2." Robert dipped into the box
and pulled out another card. "From Mayfield, Washington, the Mayfield Yard
Goats." Cal quickly stood and put his trumpet to his lips and blasted out
the "Charge" fanfare, which sounded very clear considering he hadn't had
time to warmup the trumpet or himself since just before leaving the
resort. As soon as Cal finished, the Goats jumped to their feet and filled
the Field 1 stands with noise as they bellowed out "CHAAAAAAAAAAARGE!"

Frank Parker, the Torrance coach, turned to Carl, his captain, who was
sitting next to him and said, "What a bunch of hot dogs. That piece of
bullshit on the horn just sealed that team's fate. Those small-town yokels
are officially toast." He looked down at the players sitting to the other
side of Carl. "Trust me, boys if we play them, it will be a no mercy game."
Everyone grinned and nodded in agreement. For the Torrance All-Stars a no
mercy game meant a game in which Coach Parker would make minimal
substitutions in a one-sided game and have the team run up the biggest run
differential they could.

Down on the field, Robert fought a smile as he waited for the noise to die
down and pulled the next cards. "Head coach, James Hallion and captain
Scott Keller." The Goats had chosen Scott to represent them on the field
since he had been their designated coin flip caller during the season.

Robert pulled out the next card. "The Sunnyside All-Stars from Tucson,
Arizona. Head coach Bob Offerman, captain Zack Haggerty."

When everyone was at home plate and handshakes had been exchanged, Robert
announced that the Yard Goats had traveled the longer distance. Manuel
flipped the quarter and Scott called out, "Tails never fails!" When the
coin landed heads, Zach picked home team. He looked at Scott and said, "It
never fails, except when it does. But, hey, I've been there, too."

As Frank Parker watched the boys returning from the flip, he found himself
rooting for Mayfield to defeat Tucson, because as fate would have it, he
would be playing the winner of the Mayfield/Tucson game. He knew it would
take a miracle for that to happen. But if that miracle did happen, then his
team would have the opportunity to humiliate the little ass wipes and their
fucking trumpet player. It never once occurred to Coach Parker that his
team could possibly lose to a bunch of losers from Las Vegas.

As the draw continued, the players ran the gamut from being interested in
each draw to being restless in the interim, short as that time frame
was. Huntington Beach and Pacifica were pulled out of the box as the Game 6
teams.

"Good luck on the flip," Eric told Dallas as he and his captain, Bryce
Rushton, headed down to the field for the coin flip. Since Pacifica was
from farther away, their captain called the flip. He called heads and lost.

Dallas returned to his seat with a grin. "It's always nice to have the
hammer," he said to Eric. "And Bryce is the master of the coin flip."

"He wasn't the one who called the flip, though," Eric noted.

"It doesn't matter. All he has to do is stand there and it seems good
enough for a win—with a hint of exaggeration, of course."

 While waiting for the coaches and captains to get down to the field for
the Game 7 flip, Eric told Dallas he'd noticed the players from three teams
whose players had brought their equipment bags and asked what the deal was.

"Yep. That would be two of the three `Big Time' teams and San Jose," Dallas
said. "Frank (the Torrance coach) had announced he felt having another
practice would be more beneficial to winning the tournament than the
baseball clinic. Nobody is more serious about winning this tournament than
Frank, who is the ultimate high pressure youth coach. Harley (the San Diego
Force coach) knew that Frank was going to practice today and wasn't about
to be outdone, so his team will be out in force as well." Eric gave
Dallas's pun a proper moan. "And, as you no doubt heard, San Jose's bus
broke down on the way here and they weren't able to hold practice
yesterday."

"But the BPA has some former college and pro players and coaches presenting
many of the clinics," Eric pointed out. The Baseball Performance Academy, a
nationwide firm, had been contracted by the tournament committee to put on
an afternoon baseball clinic.

"Frank played AAA ball and has been a college assistant coach," Dallas
replied. "He feels he's just as good or better than the `amateur
instructors' at the clinic, as he puts it, because he knows how to work
with kids and has been a successful coach at the youth level. Harley feels
much the same way. As for San Jose, their coach said he was just going to
have a meeting and a light familiarization workout so his kids could get in
most of the clinic."

Because there were only two teams left after the Game 7 teams were drawn,
the last four teams were all down on the field and the flips were over
quickly. Robert asked the teams to stay in their seats until their ushers
guided them out of the complex. "You guys are in for a great afternoon and
evening of fun, food, and entertainment. I know you will all enjoy the
festival. And good luck to all of the teams and have fun playing in the
first annual BaseBrawl tomorrow."

With that the ushers led their respective teams out of the complex; the
boys happy to be on their feet and doing something. The only gripes were
under the breath grumbling from the Torrance and San Diego Force players
who would rather be enjoying the start of the afternoon festivities with
the other teams in the tournament instead of getting there late. The San
Jose players were more accepting as they understood they got hit by bad
luck the day before and they would be joining the other teams in less than
an hour. While Torrance and the Force would get to the East Harbor Mall in
time to grab some food from the food trucks and enjoy some clinics or
arcade games, they knew practice would be short but grueling with their
coaches cracking the whip.

The Goats lined up to board the bus. Eric stood at the door and handed each
player a map of the high school and Mall Way as well as a schedule of
events as they passed. The Goats piled onto their bus and waited for
Mrs. Emerson to pull out of the parking lot, which she couldn't do until
the bus ahead of her moved out. "How long is the trip again?" Miles called
out.

"Once we start moving, we'll be in the resort parking lot in 10-15
minutes," Mrs. Emerson answered.

"Thank you, Mrs. Emerson." Mason had expected a coach to answer but liked
that the driver told them how long it would take. It meant she knew where
she was going.

Two seats behind Miles, Cal was sitting next to Aiden. He was pleased when
Aiden chose to sit with him instead of Nolan, who was in the seat across
the aisle. The fact that Aiden, who was a team leader, sat next to him
instead of his boyfriend, even if it was just for ten minutes, made Cal
feel like a real member of the team.

"You're doing a great job fitting in with everybody," Aiden said. "You're
really friendly, just like most of us thought, and everybody seems to like
you."

"I'm beginning to feel like a Goat," Cal grinned. "And thanks for sitting
with me."

"Hey, you're my teammate, bro."

"I know, but Nolan is your boyfriend."

As they talked, the bus started to move. They were ten minutes away from
being free to explore and have fun.

"Well, there is that. But he is one of my roomies and we'll have plenty of
time to be together when we get to the festival, and I just wanted to let
you know you're really appreciated, and you haven't even thrown a pitch
yet."

"I can't wait until I get called on to pitch. Then I'll REALLY feel like a
Goat."

Aiden looked over at Nolan, who nodded. He then turned back to Cal and
said, "Nolan and I were wondering if you'd like to be our third while we
walk around the festival." One of Coach Hallion's rules for the festival
that they stay together in groups of at least three players.

"That would be wicked," Cal grinned. He looked at his schedule and pointed
to the two-thirty pitching clinic. "If you guys don't mind, I'd like to go
to that."

"Nolan and I figured you'd want to go. Consider it done. And it leaves us
time to visit a food truck and get some tacos."

"I like how you think."

"So, what do you think so far?" Aiden asked.

"I think I'm really horny," Cal said.

"Whoa, maybe you should have jerked off last night."

"I did and so did Miles. I don't know about Gordy because he stayed under
the covers and with the lights out it was hard to tell if he was doing
anything."

"Gordy can be shy about sex stuff until he really gets to know you, and
even then he's not always real open."

"That's cool. He's already become a great friend. But jerking off wasn't
enough, I guess. I want to do more."

"I thought you weren't gay."

"I'm not, but as you probably figured out that doesn't stop me from having
fun."

"We'll see what we can figure out for tonight," Aiden said.

The boys sat silently until the bus turned into the high school parking lot
and stopped in the school's bus loading area. They started to get out of
their seats when Coach Hallion motioned for them to sit down. "Just a
couple of reminders of the rules before you go," he said. "Remember to stay
in groups of three or more. What you do during the afternoon is up to you,
but you must stay in the area that's on the map. And we will all meet on
the bus at quarter to five. That's four-forty-five for those of you who are
analog timekeeping challenged. The buses will all be parked in this lot."

Grant had Jaden and Alex's mobile numbers so he could tell them when and
where to meet up. He knew that they would be bringing their boyfriends
Isaac and Josh to the festival with them. He looked forward to meeting
them. Alex had told him the four of them would have wristbands given to
them by Carol.

<The Festival>

After disembarking the bus, the Goats got into groups based on what was on
the Festival schedule. Mac, Muddy, and Lenny joined together because they
wanted to attend the catching clinic, which was slated to start in 20
minutes. They hoped that would leave them enough time to hit up a food
truck for something to munch on before the clinic.

Aiden combined with Nolan, Cal, Scott, Riley and Trent for a pitching
clinic. They had 40 minutes before their clinic started, which was plenty
of time to grab some food.

Gordy, Mason, Miles, Lance, Mac, and Rusty headed straight to a hitting
clinic which started in five minutes. They decided to wait until after the
clinic to eat—if they managed to not starve to death.

Grant, Emmett, and Skip, elected to eat and see what was in the midway
first. They wanted to hit up an infielders' clinic and a hitting clinic
later on the schedule.

The groups changed members between clinics so the players could attend the
clinics they thought would help them the most. For example, Max, Trent,
Mac, Nolan, and Scott attended the first base fielding clinic. It was a
clinic the players who wouldn't be playing the position wouldn't be
interested in attending. And players like Aiden or Lance, who would rarely
be manning the position, didn't attend because they found clinics that
interested them more or decided to give the food trucks or the midway a
try.

The catchers managed to make the clinic just as the instructor was
introducing himself. He was Greg Anthony, a retired player who caught five
years in the minors and six in the majors. He now worked as a coach at
Fresno State University and as a clinician for the Baseball Performance
Academy during the offseason. Greg had brought two of his Fresno State
players with him to demonstrate the fundamentals as well as the individual
drills he would be talking about.

The pitching clinic featured Dan Prescott, the pitching coach at the
University of San Diego, and two local high school coaches with glittering
resumes along with a couple of college pitchers. The hitting and infield
clinics, as well as the outfield and baserunning clinics, featured
instructors of equal pedigree. Larry, Eric, and James had been impressed
with the caliber of instruction at the clinic. The Baseball Performance
Academy had a stellar nationwide reputation, and the Mayfield coaches could
see why.

The players were also impressed. They came away from the clinics they
attended feeling it had been worth their time. "It wasn't as good as the
games on the midway, but I figured it was worth my time anyway," Cal said
after the pitching clinic.

"You're silly," Aiden chuckled.

"Maybe. We'll see how I good I pitch next time I'm on the mound."

"It will take some work to get those grips down," Nolan said.

Cal had received some special help with his changeup grip. He could see
improvement after just a few throws. He planned to practice it a lot when
he warmed up in the bullpen.

Not everything was laughing, learning, food, and games, however. An
incident happened later in the afternoon in the midway. Lenny, Skip, Riley,
Emmett, and Aiden were discussing which game they wanted to try before
returning to the bus. They were interrupted by three boys wearing Torrance
shirts. The smallest of them was bigger than Lenny, who was the biggest boy
in the Goat group.

"Hey, Clay, lookie, what we found," Howie, the biggest of the three said to
his teammates. Howie was a tall five feet six with a solid, athletic build.

"Yeah, it looks like the baseball shrimp squad," Clay chuckled.

"Did you guys take a wrong turn coming here?" Maury asked.

"What are you talking about?" Aiden finally asked.

"Hey, guys, they know how to talk," Howie said. "I thought all they could
do was blow their fucking horns."

"By wrong turn, I meant you guys should be someplace else because you,
like, don't belong in this tournament and you guys know you don't belong,"
Maury said.

"Tell the little fuckers what a no mercy game is Howie," Clay said.

"A no mercy game is something they're gonna be happy they won't have to
play in since they're gonna be, like, playing in the losers' tournament and
won't have to play us," Howie responded. "But just so you know, when we
hate a bunch of fuckers, like little ass wipes who think their shit don't
stink because they can blow a horn and yell stupid shit, what we do is get
a humungous lead big enough to five-inning you then we don't play our subs
so we can totally rub your ugly noses in your shit and show you it does,
like, really stink. Doing that to little fuckers like you is really dope,
dudes, and I mean REALLY dope."

Clay stepped around Aiden and said, "Now let's go knock down some bottles,"
he told his teammates.

Aiden moved back between Clay and the game booth. "I think we were in line
next."

Clay grabbed Skip's uniform shirt and said, "How about I knock his ass on
the ground next?"

"How about you let go of his shirt before somebody knocks you on your ass,"
came a voice from behind Clay.

Everyone turned around to see a boy who was wearing a Huntington Beach
uniform shirt. Three other Huntington Beach players were standing behind
him. The boy who spoke was an inch taller than Howie and built as solidly.

"What's it to you, Rushton? This ain't your concern," Clay snarled at Bryce
Rushton, the Huntington Beach captain.

"Anybody who bullies somebody smaller than himself is my concern, Grayson,"
Bryce snarled back, with a heavy emphasis on the last name. The top
baseball players playing in the top California programs were well known to
each other.

"What do you care what happens to these pissants from Mayfield? I mean,
they, like, think they're hot shit because somebody knows how to blow a
horn," Howie said. "Mayfield? They play baseball? Really? I mean until
today, who the fuck knew?"

The five Mayfield boys stood quietly wondering where the building
confrontation would end up. They were pleased that a player from one of the
big-time California teams was standing up for them, but what they wanted
was to just be left alone so they could knock some bottles down. Players
from another team, ignoring the verbal spat, moved ahead of them to the
booth to have some fun.

"It might interest you to know that coach Baker, our coach, grew up in
Mayfield and is a Mayfield grad."

"Whoop the fuck doo. It might interest you to know that I don't give a
shit. He's not playing. How about naming me one player from Mayfield
anybody's ever heard of."

"Marty Carlson," Aiden called out.

"Now, there's bullshit if I ever heard it." Howie turned to his
teammates. "Come on, dudes, let's take ourselves to where the real baseball
players are. We know they ain't from Mayfield and it seems they don't play
for Huntington Beach either."

"Yeah, good idea," Clay agreed. "They'll get their asses kicked on the
baseball field where more peeps will watch it happen and laugh their butts
off. It would be awesome if, like, we were the ones doing the ass kicking."

The three Torrance players started to leave the scene. They knew if they
got involved in a melee that they would be in big time trouble with their
coaches and everybody in the tournament. Howie stopped them so he could get
in one last word. "You dudes are a sorry bunch of motherfuckers," he said
to the Huntington Beach players. The three then made a quick exit.

"Hey, thanks for helping us out, Bryce," Aiden said.

"Not a problem," Bryce responded. "Those guys being ass wipes is nothing
new. They're really good players, some of the best around, but from their
coaches on down they're great big shitbags, too."

"Coach Baker has nothing but good to say about Mayfield baseball," John
Rychner said. John was a slender boy who was a superb center fielder. "I
hear they've, like, won, a few state high school championships and play
really good sound baseball. Plus, you guys are good sports and all that."

"I think they're going to be surprised when they find out Marty Carlson
really is from Mayfield," Aiden grinned.

"What's your name?" Bryce asked.

"Aiden, Aiden Miller." He then proceeded to introduce his four
teammates. Then the Huntington Beach players introduced themselves.

"I don't know any of those three players that well, but I do know that all
three of them are really good players and are also total dumb shits. I have
a feeling none of them will bother to check Marty Carlson out."

"Oh, I don't know," Riley said. "They might try to get their teammates to
laugh about how dumb the Mayfield players are for thinking he'd believe
Marty was from Mayfield and then one of them says, but Marty IS from
Mayfield, Washington." Riley was close to an expert on what playing on a
team of assholes and bullies was like and how they behaved around each
other.

"Hey, guys it's our turn," Emmett, who had been holding their place in line
with Skip, called out.

"Let's go knock down some bottles, then," Lenny said.

"You guys can join us," Aiden said. "We can mix our teams up and see who
does what."

"Sounds like a plan to me," Bryce said. "What do you think guys?"

"I think making friends with these Mayfield dudes is going to be a lot of
fun," Adam Chandler, his team's number one catcher, said.

The boys were quickly reminded that one of the purposes for entering a
tournament like the BaseBrawl was to make new friends and have fun getting
to know each other. This was a reason why the Ocean View All-Stars, a
top-rated Southern California team, were there and a reason why the boys
from little Mayfield, Washington were there: to create lasting memories of
more than just playing the game of baseball, as important as that was.

After the Mayfield group and the Huntington group finished their turns at
the booth, they split up. The Goats wanted to stop at the booth with the
radar gun to check out the speed of their pitches. Bryce told them his
group had already stopped there and were going to the last clinic session
to attend the infield fielding clinic.

Their wait in line had been twelve minutes when they reached the warmup
area. Here they could throw baseballs against a foam wall to warm up their
arms. After a five-minute warmup, Aiden stepped up the mark on the
temporary floor. He engaged the line like he would a pitching rubber and
threw the first of his allotted four pitches. He hit 55 mph and knew he
hadn't thrown his hardest. His fourth pitch was his fastest, hitting 61
mph, a mile per hour below the average speed for a 13-year-old but well
above the 55 average speed for a 12-year-old. Since Aiden's thirteenth
birthday was a month away, he felt good about his velocity.

Nolan topped them all with a 75 mph pitch on this third try. His speed was
in the upper range for a thirteen-year-old. Nolan was three months from his
fourteenth birthday. He received a printout from the computer with his top
speed, as did Aiden, Skip, Riley, and Emmett, all of whom were
pitchers. The printout compared their average speed to their age group and
highlighted his since it was above average. Nolan got patted on the back by
his teammates and congratulated by the college students who were manning
the radar gun setup.

The Goats decided to head for the parking lot. Their afternoon of learning
and fun was over; they wanted to sit on the bus and chill to help them get
amped up for the At the Majestic concert. They turned a corner and came
across Alex, Jaden, Josh, and Isaac chatting with Grant, Lance, Mason, and
Muddy in the midway picnic area where they were squeezed in at one of the
picnic tables. They were all munching on tacos.

Josh and Grant were engaged in a particularly lively conversation. Both
boys were talking, laughing, and eating.

"Hey, it looks like we've got company," Grant said while he was chewing.

"Grant, I know your mom told you not to talk while you're chewing," Alex
said.

"That doesn't count at picnic tables."

"Hey, guys," Aiden said. "I'm glad you all got to get together."

"It's why we all have cell phones thanks to each of us begging our parents
for one," Jaden grinned.

"So, Aiden, this handsome dude next to me is my boyfriend, Josh," Alex
said.

Aiden and Josh traded fist bumps. Aiden could see that Alex had done well
for himself—he was a good looking dude. "And this big hunk to my left is
my boyfriend, Nolan," Aiden said. The introductions were quickly finished.

"You and Josh seemed to be having a good time talking," Aiden told Grant.

"We were talking about Alex's...um...I think the word is foibles," Grant
said.

"So, the battle of Alex's boyfriends is over?"

"It was over before it started. I think Alex struck gold when he found Josh
as his boyfriend, especially considering where it happened."

"At an ala-teen meeting is what I understand." Grant nodded. "I bet both of
them were learning how to get along with friends and, well, just about
everybody."

"Which is something me and Alex both needed to learn."

"Hey, you two, quit talking about me and eat," Alex said to Aiden and
Grant. The two quickly dug into the stack of tacos on the picnic table.

"These tacos are the absolute best," Lance said.

"You know it," Alex agreed. "Everybody loves that taco truck over any other
food truck."

"I don't know, the pizza truck ain't bad," Jaden said.

"I didn't say the others were bad, I just said the taco truck was the
best."

"I can agree with that." Alex looked up at Aiden and said, "Can I talk to
you, like, privately for a sec, Aiden?"

"Sure." They walked over to an empty picnic table. "So, what's up, Alex?"

"I wanted to ask you two questions."

"Fire away."

"Do you hate me?"

"Nope, no way," Aiden answered instantly. "I was pissed off at you some,
but Grant put me on the right track. I could wonder the same thing about
you, I guess."

"Which brings me to question two. Before the tournament's over, do you
think we could, like, find a way to meet up and have a really good talk. I
mean the kind for us to, like, clear up the bad feelings."

"Sounds great to me. Let's trade phone numbers and see what we can come up
with."

Alex breathed a sigh of relief. That had been easier than he had
expected. The two traded phone numbers and returned to the group, where a
lively discussion was taking place. Jaden, Isaac, and Josh were interested
to learn that Riley and Lenny were boyfriends. They didn't have to be told
that Lenny and Lance were twins.

"How do you know you're with the right boyfriend?" Isaac asked.

"You just know, right, Grant?" Riley answered. Grant nodded in reply.

"Is everybody in Mayfield gay or something? I mean there's three pairs of
boyfriends just with you guys."

"I'd say the Mayfield boys are a lot like the East Harbor boys are," Alex
answered, which satisfied everybody for the moment.

"I want to get back to the bus and chill for a bit," Aiden said. "I need
two guys to come with me."

"Coach says we have to stay in groups of three," Grant explained to Alex
and his friends.

Since they were already standing, Aiden's group fell in with him. Everybody
said their good-byes and the group headed for the parking lot.

On the way they crossed paths with Tim Whalen and three of his San Diego
Force teammates.

"Hey, Aiden, what's happening?" Tim greeted.

"Hey, Tim. Nothin' much." He introduced the players Tim hadn't met yet and
Tim introduced his teammates.

"Having a good time in my part of the world?" Tim asked.

"Yep. Clinics were great, the games were great, food was great, and we met
lots of cool guys from different teams. It was a great afternoon."

"Except for the bullies," Riley said. He didn't want to give the Torrance
ass wipes a pass.

"Oh? And who were they?"

"Torrance," Aiden said. He wasn't going to say anything in order to avoid
any controversy with his new friend, but he knew Riley's history with
bullies in baseball and understood where he was coming from.

"No surprise there," Tim admitted. "I hope it didn't last long."

"Guys from Huntington Beach came by and chased their asses away. And from
that we got to make new friends."

"I'm not surprised there either. The Ocean View dudes are a class act. Kind
of like you Mayfield dudes. I don't care about what peeps say about you
guys being from a small town, any place that can produce a Marty Carlson
has to play some serious baseball."

Aiden and Tim exchanged hugs and agreed to find a way to get together. The
players from the two teams exchanged fist bumps and everyone on the two
teams went their own ways.

When the Goat players got to the parking lot, they noted Cal in the grassy
area on the west side of the parking lot throwing pitches to Mac.

"You're sure ambitious," Aiden said as he approached his teammates.

"I wanted to start working on that changeup grip I learned in the pitching
clinic. I'm really liking it and can't wait to try it in a game," Cal
responded.

"He's throwing it really good," Mac said. "I don't know if it's good enough
for a game yet, but Cal's gonna make that pitch a serious weapon."

"Well, since he learned it at a clinic while he's with playing us, I hope
he makes it a weapon for the Goats before he uses it against us next
spring," Aiden said.

"It's about time to wrap it up," Mac told Cal. "We gotta get on the bus."
Mac had packed his mask into his equipment bag and was glad he did when Cal
asked him to catch his practice pitches.

Cal squatted down and put the baseball and his glove into his equipment
bag. He then opened up his trumpet case, removed his glistening instrument,
wiped off the mouthpiece and blew a few notes into it. He then started
playing a piece of music that sounded across the parking lot.

As Cal played his trumpet, Trent, Nolan, and Scott were entering the
parking area. "Whoa, Calvin is busy on his horn," Trent grinned.

"I wonder what's playing?" Nolan asked. "I kinda recognize it since I hear
lots of classical stuff at Aiden's house, but I've got no idea what it
is."'

"It's the `Prince of Denmark's March' by Jeremiah Clarke," Aiden told them.

"It figures Aiden would be the one to know," Grant said.

A few seconds later Cal stopped playing at the end of a passage. The Goats,
who were amazed at the talent shown by their new teammate, applauded and
cheered loudly.

"I guess you guys liked it," Cal grinned.

"Liked it? We loved it?" Aiden said. "Are you taking your trumpet into the
concert?"

"I don't see any reason why not, Who knows, I might have to blow this and
have everyone rush the stage." Cal blew the "Charge!" fanfare to the
laughter of his teammates. "Anyway, I took this thing on the airplane
thinking it might come in handy some time. I mean who knows, I can't do any
worse than get a whole team pissed at us." Cal was referring to the
reaction of the Torrance Bulldogs to his rendition of "Charge!" during the
draw.

"Do you know any rock songs?" Mason asked.

"There's a few that I like to play along when I'm listening to a band or a
group on You Tube that's got a trumpet part in it. But the piece I just
did, I'll be playing with the Centralia Symphony this fall, so I've been
practicing the shit out of it."

"Even in parking lots," Mason giggled.

"Yep, even in parking lots."

None of the players had noticed the man who had stopped his walk through
the parking lot and listened intently to Cal playing his trumpet. He shook
his head in amazement as he stood and listened intently to the
performance. As soon as Cal finished, Robert Lopez, the tournament
director, walked around the Goats' bus and continued his walk to the
Majestic Theater.

 The players traded stories of their afternoon. At various times they had
been in the same groups, but everyone still had a lot to share. Everyone
stopped and listened intently when Aiden related what had happened at the
bottle booth.

"Damn, that is a total suck fest," Mac fumed. "I wish I'd been there to let
them know what I thought of them. Who do those buttheads think they are?"

"They know they're total assholes," Trent said.

"You said they didn't even know Marty is from Mayfield?" Scott asked Aiden.

"They thought we were lying to them," Aiden replied.

"Losers."

"Not only losers, but dumb shit losers," Nolan said. "The worst kind. I
hope we get to play them so we can show them what kind of losers they
really are."

"Don't forget to give Huntington credit for being winners," Riley said. "I
ended up really liking those guys."

The boys boarded the bus and waited for Coach Hallion to review the
protocols for attending the concert and returning to the bus when it was
over. The Goats, especially Mason, could hardly wait to hear At the
Majestic, who were arguably the most famous boy band in the country.

Next: BaseBrawl-Day 2. California Lovin'