Free Super-sized Slugger by Cal Ripken Jr.

test ought to be able to handle that.
    As the first batter dug in at the plate, the Tigers’ dugout erupted with catcalls.
    â€œBig, big man on the mound!”
    â€œI can’t believe I ate the whole thing!”
    â€œYo, pitcher! Grand Slam breakfast at Denny’s! Available twenty-four/seven!”
    Cody could feel the familiar anger rising as the Tigers batter dug in. Anger and adrenaline—that’s a bad combination, he told himself. He went into his windup, kicked, rocked, and fired. Ball one. He threw the second pitch even harder. Ball two. Great, he thought. The kid hasn’t moved the bat from his shoulders. And why should he? He’s taking the E-ZPass lane to first base.
    Cody walked the kid on two more balls outside. And the next batter walked on four pitches too. Now the Tigers’ dugout was a sea of noise, the jeering getting louder and louder. Cody ran the count to 2–0 on the third batter when Coach yelled, “Time!” and popped out of the dugout.
    He trudged slowly to the mound while Cody kicked nervously at the dirt in front of the pitching rubber.
    â€œCody,” Coach said, “look at me.”
    Cody tilted his head up slightly.
    â€œYou can do this,” Coach said. “Don’t let these guys get to you. All you need to do is find your rhythm, and you’ll be fine.”
    â€œI don’t know, Coach,” Cody said, looking down and kicking the dirt again.
    â€œWell, I do know,” Coach said. The irritation in his voice startled Cody. “But you’re not giving yourself a chance. And you’re not giving your teammates a chance to help you. Now take a deep breath and relax. Then take ten miles per hour off that fastball and get it over the plate. I don’t want to have to come out here again.” With that, he turned and left.
    Cody tried to compose himself. Breathe. Relax. Slow everything down. And he did. Slowed everything down so much it was like he was taking a nap. The result was a pitch that seemed to float through the air as the batter’s eyes lit up with delight. The kid promptly slapped it into right-center field for a two-run double.
    Just like that, it was Orioles 3, Tigers 2.
    Cody was furious with himself. Why don’t I just throw it underhand if I’m going to pitch that slow? Why don’t I bowl it up there?
    He tried throwing the ball slightly harder now, and suddenly his luck seemed to change. The next Tigers batter swung at a pitch outside the strike zone and hit a weak comebacker to the mound for the first out. The batter after that helped Cody even more by striking out on a fastball over his head. And the Tigers’ number-nine hitter swung at three balls in the dirt to end the inning.
    Cody hung his head as he walked off the mound. Some debut. Then he said a silent prayer: I don’t know what those last three guys were swinging at. But please don’t let them stop swinging at junk now.
    When he reached the dugout, Coach gave him a fist-bump and said, “Okay, not bad. You got out of trouble when you had to.” But Cody was disconsolate. What a train-wreck of an outing, he thought.
    Which was when Marty walked over and put a hand on each shoulder and got right in his face.
    â€œListen to me, dude,” Marty said. “Forget that big windup of yours. It’s killing you. You’re totally off balance. Just pitch from the stretch, like the closers in the major leagues do. It’ll make your delivery way more compact. You’ll have much better control.”
    Cody’s jaw dropped. Marty, the kid who talked to himself, the kid who couldn’t run to first base without stumbling, was talking like a big-league pitching coach. And the scary thing was, he was actually making sense.
    â€œOkay,” Cody said, nodding. “Why not? I’m not exactly mowing them down this way.”
    So when he took the mound in the fifth inning, Cody pitched from the stretch. And