Triple Play - Cassie Cole Page 0,2

all went down into the dugout by the field. Teams had a twenty-six-man roster during the season, but carried the full forty-man roster during spring training. There were lots of minor-league players who were invited to spring training. Not to mention all the staff employed by a major league team. There was the manager, bench coach, hitting coach and assistant hitting coach. The pitching coaches (Coach Schultz and me), the first base coach, the third base coach. Plus the head athletic trainer and medical assistant.

All in all, it made the dugout a crowded place. Coach Schultz had me sit all the way at the end, as far from the players as possible. I didn’t mind because sitting closer to the players would have been distracting. I still felt awfully star-struck.

“Sit down and say nothin’,” Coach Schultz told me. He had changed into a full Rangers uniform, which pressed tightly against his huge beer belly. “I don’t want you putting any new thoughts in my pitchers’ heads.”

“Yes sir,” I said while pulling out my notebook.

Pitching coach was a straightforward job. They monitored the pitching mechanics, came up with a game plan for that specific opponent, and served as the in-game coach for whichever pitcher was currently on the mound. Being an assistant pitching coach was a lot more ambiguous. It varied depending on the team. They handled whatever responsibilities the pitching coach didn’t want, like reviewing game footage and identifying issues with a pitcher’s mechanics. There were dozens of little items where an assistant pitching coach could help.

So when I asked Coach Schultz what he wanted me to do, and he replied, “Just watch the game,” I wasn’t sure how to take it.

Without clear guidance, I treated it like one of my high school games—which was tough to do since it was my first game working for a major league team. The crowd filled into the spring training stadium and the national anthem was played. Then our team—the home team—took the field first, with Rafael Rivera on the mound. He picked up the game ball, threw a few warm-up throws from the rubber, and then the game began.

He started the game strong enough. Struck out the first batter by getting him to chase a changeup in the dirt, then drew two weak ground ball outs to end the inning. I noted his pitch velocity and the sequence he was using.

But then he got shelled.

The opposing team got three straight hits to start the next inning, and then a bases-clearing double hit into the right-center gap. Coach Schultz visited the mound to chat with him. He walked the next batter, then induced a ground ball double-play. But then he allowed two more hits, capping things off with a home run that cleared the left field fence by at least fifty feet.

Rafael was pulled after that. His final pitching line: 1.2 IP, 6 H, 6 R, 6 ER, 1 BB. Some pitchers would yell and throw equipment after such a bad outing, but he only sat on the bench next to the other players and closed his eyes.

I scribbled furiously in my notebook.

The rest of the game was far less interesting. The Rangers used a variety of pitchers for one or two innings each. I took notes on each of them, though not as detailed as what I had taken for Rafael. We ended up losing 6 - 2.

After the game everyone filed back into the clubhouse. I followed Coach Schultz through the locker room and into his office.

He flinched when he turned around. “You’re like a damn cat. Every time I turn around…”

I smiled apologetically. “I have some notes from the game, if you’re interested.”

“What’s there to say?” Coach Schultz replied while lowering himself into his office chair. “Rafa had a bad day.”

“Sure, but don’t you care about why he had a bad day?”

“Listen, sweetie,” he said patronizingly. “Some days a pitcher has it, and some days they don’t. That’s all there is to it. If you played baseball, you’d know that.”

“I did play baseball,” I said simply.

“I mean baseball, not softball.”

I shook my head. “My dad had me playing baseball since I was four. I earned a varsity letter in high school, too. Only girl to ever earn it.” Before he could comment on that, I quickly added, “Sir, I’m just trying to be helpful. Since it’s my job.”

“Your job is to do whatever I tell you to,” he replied while fishing around in his desk for a flask. “Be here