Chapter 39

Thursday we were back playing ball, this time playing away at their field. We were still in the district and were up against Murphy again. We’d lost to them in the regular-season game, although it had been close. They were a really solid team, so we’d been preparing for it all week, watching game tape and trying to fix some of the problems that tripped us up last time.

Thankfully, from everything we could see on the tapes, they didn’t have a pitcher like the monster we played the week before. Our biggest problem with them was going to be two of their hitters who could absolutely crush the ball.

Sure enough, on their first at-bat, these guys were up in the two and four spots. After striking out the first batter, number fourteen, the first of the two power hitters, knocked a line drive in between the left and center fielders that was a thing of beauty, splitting them perfectly and getting a stand-up double out of it. We managed to strike out the third batter before number nine rolled up. If we thought number fourteen was bad, he was nothing like number nine, who got the first home run of the day in the bottom of the first inning putting us two behind practically before we got started.

We caught up some ground in the next inning thanks partly to a beautiful third base steal from Marcus that put him in a good position to score on a line drive two batters later. I did not fare so well, timing the pitch wrong and retiring our side, ending us down one.

It went like that for the next four innings, with one of the two hitters getting a run every time they were up and us catching up the following inning. We managed to finally break the cycle in the bottom of the sixth and I was happy to have a part in it.

We tied things up in the top of the sixth with several solid hits that moved men across the bases. Marcus had a great moment catching their closer completely unprepared, stealing third base. I wish I could say I was the one who got him the rest of the way home and put us ahead, but I popped out to left field closing the side. We were at least tied, and I redeemed myself shortly after. They had a man on first and one of their big hitters was up. They’d already shown us that fastballs would just get us scored on, so our pitchers had been trying to change things up in an attempt to get them to keep the balls within reach.

I’m not sure what pitch our pitcher threw, but instead of a high arc into outfield like he’d been hitting, this was more of a line drive with a very shallow arc. It was still pretty high, but I took the shot and jumped as high as I could, stretching out my glove as far as I could. I was pretty sure I was going to miss it and almost dropped the ball when it smacked into the end of my glove, barely remembering to pull it in fast enough to keep it from popping out. I started to twist towards first base even before I came down, rocketing off a side-arm throw as I landed, beating out number fourteen before he could get back to the bag.

Thankfully, their other power hitter didn’t bat directly after and we were able to strike out the next batter, closing out the side, leaving us tied going into the seventh inning. We put up two more runs in the seventh, including one almost homer from Christian Hume, our captain, that he nearly turned into an out. The ball looked like it was going to clear the fence easily so Christian did a slow jog to first base, his attention on the ball, waiting for it to go over. A gust of wind or something must have slowed it down, because it started dropping a little too steeply on its descent, finally banging off the edge of the fence and bouncing back into the field. As soon as it hit, he turned on the speed and managed to make it to second, but just barely.

The runner who’d been on third had made it with time to spare, so we still got a run and Christian was brought home two batters later, giving us our second run and the lead. Number nine was up first for Murphy and I think everyone was sure he’d bring them within one, which is why we were all so surprised when he struck out looking on a really nice slider from our closer.

That seemed to be enough to finish them off, with the next two batters seeming to barely try as they got struck out, eliminating one of the strongest competitors in our region and clearing the way for us to go to regionals.

I’d seen Hanna and Kat in the stands while we were playing, but both were gone when the game ended and they weren’t waiting by the bus that would take the team back to Carr like they normally did for away games.

I texted ’Did yall leave?’ to Kat. This was a big moment for me, and I couldn’t help but be a little bummed out when they weren’t there to celebrate with me.

Kat replied a few minutes later with, ’Her mom said we could come, but she wanted us to come right home. Hanna’s not backing down from her decision and her mom is still pissed.’

For a woman who said she wasn’t blaming me for Hanna’s decision and refusal to bend, I sure seemed to be getting the brunt of it. I guess in a way I was since, while I didn’t actively encourage her, I also didn’t discourage her, even though I knew her mom was against it.

Things were normal at school, but it sucked that I didn’t get to see my friends as much as I had, and I could only hope she and her mom worked things out.

Saturday I had the MMA fight. It ended in the late afternoon, which gave me just enough time to get back for our set, but not enough time to practice, which was a problem considering how close the audition was.

We’d actually gotten more information and it turned out it wasn’t an audition in the way I’d been thinking about it. The scout was coming to our Saturday show, which had probably always been the plan. I’d just assumed it was some kind of audition where we played for just him, instead of him just observing our normal show. Mr. French explained that this was how they normally did it. First, because they didn’t want it to actually be an audition, since some people would consider that some kind of semi-guarantee, which it wasn’t. Most of the bands talent scouts saw never made it beyond that step, and they didn’t want bands to start getting the wrong impression. It’s why most of the time the groups being checked out didn’t even know they had a scout watching them.

The other reason was that they wanted to see the band not just for how it sounded but also its stage presence and how they looked, since these days it wasn’t just about the CDs it put out, but also about TV and publicity appearances. A band that had no stage presence was almost as bad as a band that couldn’t play. The only exception was when studios needed to make a list of possible session musicians, where ‘presence’ didn’t matter.

I rode down with Chef more or less in silence, mostly in my head about how things were going to go. He’d walked me through what to expect several times, going through the steps, but that wasn’t the same as experiencing it. Chef tried to talk to me a few times, but I ended up giving one-word answers that basically killed the conversation. I wasn’t icing him out on purpose; I was just nervous and couldn’t focus on anything else.

We pulled up to the school we’d come to when he’d had me sign up. For some reason, I’d expected them to change the setup inside, maybe adding metal cages or whatever that I’d seen on TV. Instead, it looked exactly the same, except for some portable bleachers around the large center ring in the middle of the large building.

“There isn’t a cage or anything?” I leaned over and asked Chef as we stood just inside the doorway, off to one side.

Chef looked at me, slightly confused, “Why would there be a cage?”

“I don’t know, I guess that’s just what I’ve seen the few times I’ve seen pictures or video of MMA fights.”

“No, that’s mostly just the American competitions that are part of Federated Martial Arts. FMA is the biggest outfit and they’re the ones you see on TV, but they’re far from the only mixed martial arts outfit. This event is technically part of the Yàzhōu Wǔshù Liánméng, which is the largest mixed martial arts organization in Asia and pulls from not just China but most of Asia. Japan and Vietnam are both big competitors in it.”

“The banners and stuff say WMMA,” I pointed out.

“That’s for English speakers. Shan has been trying to carve out his own niche with it here, but there’s a guy out in California who has better connections overseas than Shan, so Shan registered it under a separate name in the states.”

“But it’s part of this other group, the one you named a second ago?” I asked, not attempting to repeat what he said.

“Yes. At the moment, they have kind of a split license and there’s talk of making separate east coast and west coast expansions of the mother organization.”

“Why would they bother if this other guy has better connections? Why don’t they just give it all to his thing and that be that?”

“Because he thinks smaller than Shan, and he’s behind the curve. Shan’s already put together a bunch of tournaments and has signed up almost a hundred martial arts schools to become members. I don’t know for sure, but I’m betting they’re worried about picking the wrong horse and losing their edge in the US. It’s already going to be challenging enough to displace the US MMA organizations without fighting amongst themselves, too.”

“Ohh,” I said, not sure how to reply to that.

“So the answer is, no. There aren’t any steel cages in these matches. The rules are just like we went over in practice. Your opponent has to be pinned, tap out, or get knocked out for the match to end. That’s it. If you get thrown out of the yellow ring, the match breaks and you re-enter, and you go again.”

I only nodded in response. He’d explained all this several times, but it was different seeing it in person. That, however, wasn’t the thing that had fixed my attention. Jason and Todd, the two fighters I’d run into the last time I was here, had arrived and were setting up on one of the benches lining the back wall where fighters were to wait until it was their time to compete.

They were both as big as I remembered and both looked my way when their coach pointed in my direction and said something. I had this feeling that they thought I was some kind of easy mark. I was smaller than them only in that I wasn’t built like a weightlifter. We were almost the same height and I’d been putting on a good amount of muscle over the last year, so it didn’t make sense that they’d think I was physically some kind of pushover. Chef had said that he and their coach had had some kind of disagreement, but that didn’t really explain it. The other master had greeted Chef with respect and Victor made it sound like he was well respected by others in the community.

I decided to ignore them and focus on what was going on. There was the one ring, so fighters had to go in turn, which meant we’d be able to see each competitor as they went. It was a bracket-based competition, which didn’t give anyone an advantage. By the time you got to fight someone who you’d seen compete, they would have already seen you as well, so it was at least even.

I was the third match-up and went off to an area set aside for competitors to begin stretching. One of the two guys who’d been eyeing me was there too, although I couldn’t remember if he was Jason or Todd. He shot me another look, but I ignored him and went through my normal routine.

I did stop to watch the first match, to get a feeling for how the competition would go. The matchup was incredibly uneven, and not in the way I’d originally thought. One of the competitors was this really tall, lanky guy. He must have been at least six-six or six-seven and he had a really long arm span, which meant he’d have some impressive reach. His opponent, on the other hand, was tiny. He was, at max, five-five with the same wiry build. Had I been betting, I would have put my money on the big guy, who should have been able to keep the little guy at bay fairly easily.

I would have lost that bet. The little guy was lighting fast. I don’t think his competitor was expecting it, since he looked just as surprised as the audience when his opponent dodged a test jab almost like he’d been standing still and practically climbed him like a tree before he pulled him down to the mat and put him in a hold I hadn’t ever seen before. It was hard to tell exactly what he was doing from where I was, except that he had the guy on his stomach with one of the tall guy’s arms pulled behind him while the little guy’s other arm wrapped around his throat.

It must have been painful, because he didn’t even hesitate before tapping out. The next two face-offs went just about the same. The tall guy kept changing up what he was doing, but it didn’t matter. Each time he was down on the matt in less than thirty seconds, never landing a single hit.

I went back to stretching, ignoring what was happening. I wanted to do well for Chef, but I wasn’t really invested in the whole thing. I’d try my best, but if I ended up with someone like that, I’d be out and that would be that.

The next match took longer, going almost five minutes before someone tapped out for the last time. The longest part of each match seemed to be the time in between the actual fighting, with the event organizers gathering in the middle of the floor and discussing whatever it was they had to discuss before all but the announcer walked off.