KELSO'S SWING, CHAPTER 10
BY DELL FRANKLIN
In preparation for Murphy’s Pub, Kelso assembled the girls around a tee at home plate. He lashed a few line drives off the tee, and said, “Pretend, when you hit, that you’re hitting off the tee. Weight back. No lunging. Watch the ball come off its arc, and when it reaches a level similar to where I have it on this tee, step into it and hit it. I want you girls to have a plan and be calm. Exude confidence. Act like a hitter, look like a hitter who means business. Now girls, I want you to hit off this tee.”
Arms folded, he talked to them as they hit off the tee, guiding them, and when he was through he tossed a ball at Marstrulavich and picked up a bat, and Marstrulavich lobbed the ball toward him, and Kelso stroked the ball back to him on one hop, over and over again, and explained to the girls that they were playing “Pepper.” Marstrulavich lobbed balls high and low, inside, outside, and Kelso controlled the bat and continued knocking the ball directly to Marstrulavich. They found a rhythm, speeded up the drill, and all the while Kelso lectured the team on how pepper was important and involved throwing accuracy, catching, hitting, sharpened “hand-to-eye” skills and developed a level, compact swing, kept the shoulder from dropping, and, in time, it would help them hit every ball on the nose, explaining that “hitting was an extension of pepper.”
He had the girls hit pepper in small groups. He helped them shorten up on the bats. At first they were inept, but soon they began to grasp the drill and enjoy it, giggling and having fun as Kelso clapped his hands and actually complimented them on their progress. Later, when they hit batting practice and he hit infield and Marstrulavich hit fly balls to outfielders, he repeatedly preached the level compact swing, and after a while, with the exception of Beth and Monica, the girls adopted Kelso’s swing and became clones of a swing taught to him by his father, who’d studied the great hall of famer, Rogers Hornsby.
Penny approached him. “Can you teach me to hit to right field, coach!” She was eager, hungry, happy.
He showed her how to steer the ball from out in front of the plate. She soon placed balls into right field, could not conceal her joy, her face-splitting grin. Kelso told her not to “get too happy, that ball players should seldom show emotion.” Penny insisted, “We’re women, we’re emotional, coach.” Kelso told her that while they were on the ball field, for the hour or so they played, they were to be all business, and “no squealing with excitement.”
When Penny finished hitting, she said to Kelso, “I think I should bat second for the hit-and-run. I’m fast. I always batted second before. Why can’t I bat second now?”
“You’re hitting sixth. Now get your ass over to third. When Sparky Anderson of the Cincinnati Reds asked Pete Rose to move from the outfield to third, he did it without question or complaints—for the team. When he moved from second to the outfield, he did it for the team, no complaint. Pete Rose plays for money, plays for glory and stats, true, but he plays for the team first. I want you to be like Pete Rose.”
“Who’s Pete Rose?”
“Ask your husband. Pete’s the best player in the game. Now get over to third before I drop you to ninth in the order, down with the tit-monsters.”
He began lofting fly balls and line drives into right field, where Marstrulavich worked with Annie. He told them most line drives looked like they’d drop, but usually kept rising, while most high flies looked like they were going over the fence, but stayed shallow, and to react with the sound of the ball hitting the bat. He had his outfielders running on the balls fo their feet to so their vision didn’t joggle. He realized Annie blinded herself by holding the glove in front of her eyes, so he had her making basket catches against her belly and chest like the great Willie Mays. Her new nickname was Willie. After several attempts, Annie caught three straight fly balls. She jumped for joy and went on to catch four out of five. Then she charged grounders, being sure to stay low and in front of the ball, and awkwardly flinging balls to second base.
Penny yelled at Kelso, “Annie’s celebrating. She’s squealing and acting emotional. How come you don’t chew her out?”
Kelso fixed her with a malignant stare that cowed her. He turned and hit Jill several hard grounders. Then he went to work with her at scooping throws in the dirt.
“Surround the ball, Jill,” Kelso advised. “Use your body as a cushion. Use both hands. The idea is to smother it against your chest if it takes a high bounce. Since you’re no tit-monster, you’ll feel no pain. You’re tough. Toughest broad on this team of aardvarks. Scrap-iron. You’re co-captain. You and Bobbi. You’re my captains. You keep these females in line, ride herd on ‘em, make sure there’s no whining and belly-achin’ and back-biting and selfishness. I’m depending on you two. You’re my leaders. No team is any good without leaders. You’re it.”
In preparation for Murphy’s Pub, Kelso assembled the girls around a tee at home plate. He lashed a few line drives off the tee, and said, “Pretend, when you hit, that you’re hitting off the tee. Weight back. No lunging. Watch the ball come off its arc, and when it reaches a level similar to where I have it on this tee, step into it and hit it. I want you girls to have a plan and be calm. Exude confidence. Act like a hitter, look like a hitter who means business. Now girls, I want you to hit off this tee.”
Arms folded, he talked to them as they hit off the tee, guiding them, and when he was through he tossed a ball at Marstrulavich and picked up a bat, and Marstrulavich lobbed the ball toward him, and Kelso stroked the ball back to him on one hop, over and over again, and explained to the girls that they were playing “Pepper.” Marstrulavich lobbed balls high and low, inside, outside, and Kelso controlled the bat and continued knocking the ball directly to Marstrulavich. They found a rhythm, speeded up the drill, and all the while Kelso lectured the team on how pepper was important and involved throwing accuracy, catching, hitting, sharpened “hand-to-eye” skills and developed a level, compact swing, kept the shoulder from dropping, and, in time, it would help them hit every ball on the nose, explaining that “hitting was an extension of pepper.”
He had the girls hit pepper in small groups. He helped them shorten up on the bats. At first they were inept, but soon they began to grasp the drill and enjoy it, giggling and having fun as Kelso clapped his hands and actually complimented them on their progress. Later, when they hit batting practice and he hit infield and Marstrulavich hit fly balls to outfielders, he repeatedly preached the level compact swing, and after a while, with the exception of Beth and Monica, the girls adopted Kelso’s swing and became clones of a swing taught to him by his father, who’d studied the great hall of famer, Rogers Hornsby.
Penny approached him. “Can you teach me to hit to right field, coach!” She was eager, hungry, happy.
He showed her how to steer the ball from out in front of the plate. She soon placed balls into right field, could not conceal her joy, her face-splitting grin. Kelso told her not to “get too happy, that ball players should seldom show emotion.” Penny insisted, “We’re women, we’re emotional, coach.” Kelso told her that while they were on the ball field, for the hour or so they played, they were to be all business, and “no squealing with excitement.”
When Penny finished hitting, she said to Kelso, “I think I should bat second for the hit-and-run. I’m fast. I always batted second before. Why can’t I bat second now?”
“You’re hitting sixth. Now get your ass over to third. When Sparky Anderson of the Cincinnati Reds asked Pete Rose to move from the outfield to third, he did it without question or complaints—for the team. When he moved from second to the outfield, he did it for the team, no complaint. Pete Rose plays for money, plays for glory and stats, true, but he plays for the team first. I want you to be like Pete Rose.”
“Who’s Pete Rose?”
“Ask your husband. Pete’s the best player in the game. Now get over to third before I drop you to ninth in the order, down with the tit-monsters.”
He began lofting fly balls and line drives into right field, where Marstrulavich worked with Annie. He told them most line drives looked like they’d drop, but usually kept rising, while most high flies looked like they were going over the fence, but stayed shallow, and to react with the sound of the ball hitting the bat. He had his outfielders running on the balls fo their feet to so their vision didn’t joggle. He realized Annie blinded herself by holding the glove in front of her eyes, so he had her making basket catches against her belly and chest like the great Willie Mays. Her new nickname was Willie. After several attempts, Annie caught three straight fly balls. She jumped for joy and went on to catch four out of five. Then she charged grounders, being sure to stay low and in front of the ball, and awkwardly flinging balls to second base.
Penny yelled at Kelso, “Annie’s celebrating. She’s squealing and acting emotional. How come you don’t chew her out?”
Kelso fixed her with a malignant stare that cowed her. He turned and hit Jill several hard grounders. Then he went to work with her at scooping throws in the dirt.
“Surround the ball, Jill,” Kelso advised. “Use your body as a cushion. Use both hands. The idea is to smother it against your chest if it takes a high bounce. Since you’re no tit-monster, you’ll feel no pain. You’re tough. Toughest broad on this team of aardvarks. Scrap-iron. You’re co-captain. You and Bobbi. You’re my captains. You keep these females in line, ride herd on ‘em, make sure there’s no whining and belly-achin’ and back-biting and selfishness. I’m depending on you two. You’re my leaders. No team is any good without leaders. You’re it.”
