Sitting in the bleachers next to Brock, Calvin felt lost. Sure, he knew the basics about baseball, but most of what Brock was telling him went over his head. Brock was fuming that Junior was pitching curve balls. Calvin didn’t understand, and said as much.
“He’s too young, his skeleton hasn’t matured enough. The fu—” Brock must have remembered ladies were present. “The darn coaches shouldn’t teach such a pitch.”
“Seems like Junior is coping with them okay.”
Brock shook his head and let out a breath. “He’s my son and I’m proud of anything the little shi…um…guy does, but he hasn’t got enough different pitches in his arsenal.”
“Oh.”
“A good pitcher needs a decent fast ball—as well as a good change up.”
Calvin shrugged and went back to watching the game. It was f*****g hot. He took a sw
