Free High Heat (Hard Hitters #1) by Linda Morris Page A

spend Fourth of July together?”
    She would not look at Tom. She would
not
look at him. “He had some other things to do.”
    “Oh. Really?” Was that a look of disappointment? Her father wanted her to get serious about Rich, and now Tracy did too? Did everyone see her as the town spinster who needed to be married off as soon as possible? The thought rankled.
    “I think he might have some extra barbecue and sparklers on hand if you want to drop by later,” Tom said. “I’m sure he wouldn’t mind.”
    Tracy frowned. “What?”
    “Never mind,” Sarah said hastily. “Want to address the crowd?” She turned to Tom with a bright smile.
    He looked at her like she was nuts. “Hell, no. Let’s get to pitching.”
    And he did, wading right into the group of kids.
    “Can I have an autograph?” one gap-toothed kid asked.
    “In a little bit, yeah, but right now, we’ve got work to do. Why don’t you kids line up facing the net? About fifteen, twenty feet away. Yeah, that’s good. Who’s got some baseballs?”
    Tracy brought a box of baseballs and passed one out to each kid.
    “Okay, one at a time. I want to see you guys pitch. Come on, show me what you got.” The kids looked uncertain. No one stepped forward.
    “You, in the green shirt.” He pointed to a freckled eight-year-old. “Don’t be shy. Come on up here. The best you got. Let’s smoke some balls into that net!”
    The boy shuffled to stand next to Tom, sneaking shy glances from under the bill of his cap. After a little more encouragement from Tom, the boy wound up and let it fly, his pitch dropping several feet shy of the net. His face fell.
    “Okay, that’s good, but here’s the thing,” Tom said. “You’ve got to take advantage of your gifts as a pitcher. Me, I’m a power pitcher. That’s my gift. I can throw the ball a hundred miles an hour!”
    An “Oooh!” went up from the group of kids.
    “My dad’s car doesn’t even go that fast!” one boy said.
    “That’s good, because if it did, he’d get a ticket,” Tom said, prompting a laugh from the group. “So there are three things about pitching. A perfect pitcher has flawless technique, power, and mental toughness. Anybody know what mental toughness is?”
    “It means you’re a badass!” a heavyset kid spoke up, earning a shocked gasp from the group.
    “Not exactly,” Tom said. “It’s the ability to keep calm and make your pitches when everything’s going wrong out there. Nobody’s perfect. Make sure you have two out of the three of those qualities, because that’s what you need to succeed. If you don’t have power, you have to work on technique and toughness.”
    He turned to the green-shirted boy. “You’re not a power pitcher, so you’ll need to improve your technique.”
    The boy’s gaze dropped and his chin came to rest on his chest.
    “That’s nothing to be ashamed of. Anybody here know Greg Maddux? He’s one of the greatest pitchers of all time. In the later years of his major league career, he only threw about eighty-five miles an hour, but he was all about technique. He could put the ball in a location where hitters couldn’t hit it. Power isn’t everything.”
    Tom clapped the boy on the shoulder, earning a tentative smile.
    “Try that again, but this time, don’t lean so far back during your windup. Try to keep your body straight.”
    Sarah crossed her arms and looked on, fascinated. She would never in a million years have expected Tom Cord to take so well to working with kids. This was obviously pure pleasure for him.
    A staffer retrieved the ball and tossed it back. The kid tried again, and this time, the ball sailed farther, hitting the net with a soft plop.
    “Fantastic! Try that again, but this time, bring your knee up a little higher. Try it in slo-mo first. That’s it.”
    She watched Tom go down the line, working with each kid, watching them pitch, giving them suggestions mixed with praise and encouragement, joking and winning smiles from