Redneck Boss Fucks Employee s Young Wife
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Junior Year - Part IIIChapter 9: Redneck Crazy free porn video
We were all told to meet at the Embassy Suites in shorts and t-shirts. I’d put my game uniform and gear into a duffle bag. Most of the guys had done the same, but a few still had their uniforms in the clear plastic bag they’d been given them in yesterday. We were ushered into a large ballroom where we were met by all the coaches and staff. We were then assigned teams. I was put on the team called Pride, along with twelve other boys.
Once the teams were announced, our coach pulled us all together.
“Gentlemen, welcome to Pride.
“Before we get started, I want to introduce myself. I’m Clark Kingwood. I’ve been the head coach at Mainland Community College for the past eighteen years where we’ve averaged 37 wins a season since I’ve been there. I’ve participated in USA Baseball for the past six years. This is my first year of coaching at the Under-18 level.
“Last week my fellow coaches and I had a draft to select our teams. I think we may have the best team here. Over the next several days, you’ll participate in the Tournament of Stars and we’ll be in the Gold Medal Game.
“I picked each one of you because I felt you would mesh as a squad. I know right now you don’t know each other, but I want you to get acquainted quickly. I also want you to have fun this week. I can’t think of much I would rather be doing than playing baseball. Over the next week, you’ll get the opportunity to test your skills against the best players in the country.
“Everyone here is good. I want you all to realize that right now. The quicker you figure out that your attitude and effort are the biggest factors that will set you apart, the better off you’ll be. When you walk on the field, attitude and effort don’t take talent. Just the reverse; they are the elements that will let your talent show itself,” he said, and then took a deep breath.
“I’m not going to lie to you. While I want to win the tournament, this is all about finding the right guys to move on to the next level. Scouts and coaches are going to be watching everything you do, and that includes me. 108 men will need to be whittled down to 40 by the end of the week. While you’re bonding together and working to win games, you’re in competition with each other for those roster spots.
“I want to make clear that we’re looking for good teammates and for how you’ll fit into a team. The best way to do that is to just win, baby,” he said with a big smile that had us agreeing.
If we were going to do this, I wanted to win, because that was just the way I was.
“Okay, settle down,” he said with a smile. “I want the coaches to introduce themselves.”
The first up was someone that wasn’t much older than we were.
“I’m Dick Mallei, your pitching coach. I’ve been where you are and I made the team five years ago. Unfortunately, I tore a couple of ligaments in my elbow in the minors. I love the game, so I had to find another way to participate. If you have any questions about how all this works, feel free to ask me.”
Next to stand was a small man in his early thirties.
“Duncan Nautilus,” he introduced himself, with a deep voice that didn’t fit his body. “I’ll be your infield coach this week. I hold the same position with the single-A club for the Phillies.”
A large older man stood.
“I’m Lewis Short. I’ll be rotating between different teams, working on your batting.”
Finally, another young man, who was about my height, stepped forward.
“Art Way, I’ll be working with the outfielders,” he said and sat back down.
“Now I want you to introduce yourselves,” Coach Kingwood said as he pointed at M.E.’s brother.
“I’m Dave Gordon and I’ll be your first baseman. I’ve been selected to try out each of the last four years and I made the final team each time. I take this seriously, so I don’t want to see anyone slacking off or I’ll call you on it. My goal is to make the Under-18 team so I can be the first to make all the teams, starting with the Under-14 squad.
“I’m sure I’ll make the cut and I can already tell several of you won’t. I’ll be surprised if our celebrity part-timer makes it. I’ll give you all one piece of advice: baseball has to be your primary focus,” he said, looking at me.
I looked around and could tell Dave hadn’t made many friends. It set the tone for the other guys when they introduced themselves. I zoned out. If I wanted to hear about how good each of them was, I’d date them, and I didn’t swing that way. I was picked last to introduce myself.
“Does anyone not know who I am?” I asked with a big smile.
I knew they did, and when I smiled, they smiled back.
“Good. Let’s talk baseball, then. If you want to talk about other stuff, we can do that after the coaches are done with us for the day,” I said, to set expectations. “My goal is to do whatever it takes to make you all successful. I don’t want to just make the final 40. I want to see all of you come with me. That’ll leave 27 slots for the other teams to try to figure out who’ll be going to Houston with us.
“If that means I help pitch batting practice, I’m in. If the pitchers need to work on their pickoff move, I’ll be there. If the coaches need me to play different positions, all they need to do is tell me. If we work together as a team, there’s no stopping us. We’ll set ourselves apart from all the other groups because we’re focused on winning. I want it to be our goal to win every single game.”
I looked around the room and could see the gears turning. This could be all about individuals, or we could become a team. Coach Kingwood was trying to hide a grin.
“Who’s with me?” I asked.
“Damn, son. You’re right out of central casting,” Joe Demersal, our second basemen from California, said. “I’m with you. I want to win ‘em all and make the final 40.”
I could tell that I’d started to win them over. I like it when a plan comes together.
There were buses waiting to take us to the training facility. I watched several different teams split up and not get onto the same bus. When our team started to do the same, I whistled to get their attention. It was one of those sharp ones. It cut through the noise and had everyone turning to see what was up.
“Team Pride ... everyone together!” I called out.
Dave gave me a withering look and got onto another bus out of spite. I just smiled when the coaches noticed. Coach Mallei was sent to get him. When he boarded the bus, you could tell he’d been talked to. I don’t think he liked what he’d been told, but he didn’t act like a complete jerk.
I sat next to Luke Cash, a right-handed pitcher from Missouri.
“Looks like Mr. ‘I’ve been here for four years’ got his butt chewed. Do you think he’ll get with the program?”
“When we start winning he will. He knows how this works, and if he can’t be a good teammate, he won’t make the cut. I predict by this afternoon he’ll be cheering us all on,” I said.
“Do you think he’ll mean it?” Luke asked.
“Oh, hell no!”
We both laughed at that. Some of the other guys heard us and also chuckled. I wasn’t trying to one-up Dave or anything of the sort. These guys had all played on teams where there was someone like Dave, only out for himself.
When we got to the park, there were reporters and fans waiting. It was funny to see everyone hesitate.
“Hey, Coach!” I called out. “How do you want us to deal with this? Should we wait until after practice to sign autographs and talk to the press?”
When I said ‘sign autographs,’ everyone on the bus turned and stared at me. It was like they’d never had to deal with this before. That was when I grasped that they hadn’t. I felt a little jealous and had a sudden insight into how truly messed-up my life was.
“No press for now. Follow Dawson’s lead,” Coach Kingwood said. “Take us out.”
I got up and walked to the front of the bus.
“Team Pride, on me,” I said as they scrambled out of their seats.
The other players all stayed where they were. I was glad to see Paul, Moose, Coach Herndon and Coach Haskins at the door. There was a crowd of about thirty fans and eight reporters. Paul stepped in front and my coaches flanked me. The team followed us to field four.
I introduced my coaches to everyone. Paul would stick with me, as security, while the three Lincoln coaches would split up and watch practice at each of the other fields. We split the field with Brave, who was our first opponent today.
I liked that Coach Kingwood got us busy right away. We did some stretching and running to warm up. Then it was like most everywhere else I’d been: they measured us. I don’t think they ever believed our stats when we filled them out on our application.
I was the biggest on our team at six-four-and-a-quarter and 218 pounds. What had them all buzzing was when I smoked everyone in all the speed drills. I’d worked hard for the last few weeks so I would peak now.
When we finally got a break, I looked up and saw M.E. and Bob in batboy uniforms.
“David! David! David!” Bob yelled as he ran to me. “They let me be on Pride because you’re my host-brother.”
“I wouldn’t want it to be any other way,” I said, and then turned to M.E. “Are you in charge?”
“Nope. Bob’s been telling me everything I need to know,” she said with a wink.
Bob puffed up.
“I’ll make sure she doesn’t mess up,” he said solemnly.
“Make sure she pays attention. If you’re around anyone with a bat, make sure you don’t get clipped. If she starts to slack off, you let me know,” I told him.
I worried Bob might get a little overexcited and get hurt. I’d feel terrible if that happened. M.E. nodded to let me know she’d look out for him.
Coach Kingwood posted our lineup when we broke for lunch.
Batting Order, Name - Position(s), High School, State
(1) Joe Demersal - Second Base, Gilmore Tech HS, California
(2) Mitch Underwood - Shortstop, El Paso Senior HS, Texas
(3) Dave Gordon - First Base / Outfield, Christian Academy, Georgia
(4) David Dawson - Center Field / Pitcher (right) / Shortstop, Lincoln HS, Illinois
(5) Nick Madigan, - Right Field / 1st Base, Elk Grove HS, Illinois
(6) Blake Stepford - Left Field, Hillside College Prep, New York
(7) Lucas Smith - Third Base / Outfield, San Clemente HS, California
(8) Trent Black - Catcher, Carver HS, Texas
(9) Daz Whitman - Designated Hitter /Pitcher (left/middle relief) / Outfield, Alsop Academy, Alabama
Pitchers:
Allard Hensley - Pitcher (left), Slippery Rock HS, Arkansas
Luke Cash - Pitcher (right) / First Base, Oak Ridge HS, Missouri
Austin Moore - Pitcher (right) / Infield, Citrus HS, Florida
Kale Cameron - Pitcher (left /closer), Sulphur HS, Louisiana
At lunch, we all sat at a couple of tables. They had a tent set up next to the press box at the stadium. Volunteers served us cafeteria-style. I was going to have to get someone to start bringing me lunch because this was sketchy. They had foil-wrapped pulled pork sandwiches, dry mac & cheese, and salad that had seen better days. It was good that we were all teenage boys, or the food might not have been eaten.
“What’s the deal, Dawson?” Blake, our New Yorker, asked. “Are you some kind of prissy-boy who needs twelve coaches and a personal valet?”
That got a laugh out of everyone. I could see where this might confuse baseball players. In football, I’d seen plenty of other players with personal coaches. Well, never three, but these were my high school coaches and I think this was as much of an adventure for them as it was for me.
“You can’t say that,” Dave said.
I think everyone thought he was joking, but he wasn’t.
“Gay people have feelings too. You should watch what you say, because statistically speaking, one or more of our team is probably a homosexual. You don’t want to create an environment where they might feel uncomfortable. Plus, they can’t help it that they’re different. We need to create an environment where everyone feels welcome. ‘Prissy-boy’ is a trigger word and calling David that could be construed as hostile. We want David to feel safe.”
Did he just call me gay? I gave him one of my quizzical ‘you’ve got to be kidding me’ looks, but he was oblivious, so I let it go for now. God love him. I knew he was trying to do the right thing, but you’re talking about a group of teenage boys who play sports. Dave needed to learn there were times you needed to stand up for what you believe in, and others where you had to read the situation, put on your big-boy pants, and realize it wasn’t said to really hurt someone. Jocks will say things around each other that in the normal world would be frowned upon in a big way. Let’s just say that I’d heard some comments that would make ‘prissy-boy’ seem tame.
I just shook my head when Dave kept saying ‘You can’t say that!’ I swear it became a competition to see who could top the last inappropriate comment to get Dave riled up. I stayed out of it ... well, except when I needed to defend myself, at which point I tried to be just as inappropriate. We were all almost in tears from laughing so much. Dave came across as his sister had described him: a self-righteous prick.
After lunch, the press cornered me on the way to the field. I grabbed Coach Kingwood and made him stand next to me. I gave them the ‘just glad to be here’ routine. I looked around and there seemed to be a lot more spectators. At Elite 11, they’d only allowed family and friends to watch practice.
We were designated the home team, so we would take the field first. You could tell the whole atmosphere had tensed up. I think everyone realized that they were about to play in a game where they were probably not the best player on the field. For many of them, this was a first. It can be intimidating when you play the best-of-the-best. I had a big leg up because of my Elite 11 experience.
Coach Kingwood gathered us around to give us final instructions.
“Remember, I want you to focus on attitude and effort. Keep your head in the game and just do your best each play. When you make a mistake, shake it off. One play at a time, with attitude and effort. Now let’s go kick some Brave butts!”
“You can’t say that!” someone called out.
Coach Kingwood looked at us like we’d lost our minds. Dave’s face went red, but it lightened the team’s spirits.
“Indians—I mean, Native Americans—have feelings, Coach,” I explained.
“It’s Brave, not Braves. Like Dave is ‘brave’ to point it out,” Allard Hensley, one of our pitchers, corrected me.
“‘Kick butt’ is a trigger phrase,” Trent Black, our catcher, explained.
“Dave has been teaching us stuff,” Lucas Smith, our third baseman, said, thankfully pointing at the other David.
“Well, I’ll make sure I don’t upset your delicate sensibilities,” Coach Kingwood said.
“Thanks, Coach,” I said with the hint of a smirk, and then ran out onto the field.
Allard Hensley was a backwoods good ol’ boy from Arkansas. He had a wild mop of golden hair that made him look like he belonged in a heavy-metal rock band. I watched him warm up, and he had a nice fastball. I could see he had a small case of nerves, which affected his control. Coach Mallei went out and had a quick talk with him. Allard gave him his easy smile, nodded and immediately settled down. This wasn’t his first rodeo.
The only place for fans to watch the game was along the outfield fence. I guess I wasn’t surprised when people crowded five or six deep to watch our game. Looking out across the other two diamonds, they didn’t have anyone watching. I just shook my head and decided to forget about it.
I took a deep breath and looked up at the blue sky dotted with big fluffy white clouds. I felt myself relax. This was why I was here, to play the game I loved. I could feel my stomach clench. What the heck? I ran back by the fence and lost my lunch. Talk about a way to make the fans take a step back.
Now I was ready. I took my position and Allard went to home with the first pitch. The Brave’s leadoff hitter hit a sharp one up the middle. I saw that neither Joe nor Mitch would to get it. I’d been on my toes, so I exploded forward to grab the grounder. Their runner rounded first but had to dive back when I fired the ball to Dave at first. I wanted to let everyone know that they were not picking up extra bases on me.
The next batter worked the count full on Allard. I did a little fist pump when he got a called third strike. The third batter was clipped by a fastball on the wrist. The trainer had to come out and check him. He insisted he was okay and took his base.
We had allowed two on and Allard now faced their cleanup hitter. It took just one pitch for them to be up 3–0 as he hit a screamer that went down the third base line. I think the best part of the play was the small boy, about Bob’s age, who snagged it out of the crowd. The kid had skills.
I took an instant dislike to Brave when they acted as if they’d won the game. I was okay with celebrating, but you didn’t taunt the other team. I could see Allard’s face go red. I figured he would either use it to bear down, or he wouldn’t make it out of the first. I smiled when he struck out the next two batters.
“We need base runners,” Coach Kingwood called out. “Don’t try to get it all back at once. Just get on base and let your power hitters clear the bases.”
The Brave’s pitcher was even more nervous than Allard. He gave up two base hits and then walked the third batter. It was now up to me to get them home. Coach Kingwood stepped out of the dugout to talk to me before I came up.
“If you can, hit it down the first base line. Their right fielder tweaked his arm this morning.”
How he found that out I wasn’t sure, but if that was how he wanted it, I was willing to try. Hitting a baseball into a certain place wasn’t that easy. I’d been working hard to be able to do it. I mentally went through the five steps to batting: rhythm, seeing the ball, separation, staying square, and weight shift and transfer. I stepped into the box and focused.
I observed the pitcher and saw his frustration. I could understand that. His team had given him a three-run lead in his first outing and he was about to give it all back if he wasn’t careful. Modeling and acting made you aware of body movements and interpreting what they mean. If it hadn’t been for that, he would’ve hit me square in the ear. I called time so I could brush myself off.
“That sent a message!” their first baseman called out.
Boy, they shouldn’t have done that. I felt myself drop into the zone. I was looking for something low and away so I could push it down the first base line. I guessed right and crushed his fastball. If the first baseman had just put his glove up he might have caught it, but it screamed past him, never getting more than six feet off the ground. Their right fielder sprinted to the corner and dove for the ball. I was running full-out as I rounded first and watched the ball smack off the fence and catch the top bar to come back into the field at a funny angle.
Coach Way was our third base coach and he was signaling me to round second. He gave me the universal sign to slide as he waved both arms down with his palms down. I hit the dirt and felt the ball catch my shoulder; it popped up and rolled towards home. I jumped up and thought about trying to press my luck when their pitcher grabbed the ball. He came up throwing and it felt like we were in Little League. He missed the third baseman by a wide margin.
Coach Way screamed for me to go. Their left fielder had done his job and backed up the throw. This kid had an arm. Their catcher was down blocking the plate when the ball sailed a little high, causing their catcher to have to go up to get the ball. I aimed for between his feet and suddenly he was on top of me.
“Safe!” the umpire called.
From that point on, it was all us. Our bats came alive and we scored in every inning to win 14–6.
Coach Kingwood brought us all together after the game.
“Good job! Go take a shower and be back here by five-thirty. We’ll play our second game starting at seven,” he said.
“Who wants ice cream?” I asked Bob and M.E.
“We do!” Luke Cash, one of our pitchers, called out.
I turned around and the whole team was looking at me expectantly. Hell, I wasn’t beyond buying my way into their hearts if it meant I made the final 40. Even Caryn would understand. She might not even chew me out!
“Fine,” I said, acting put out, and then I looked at the coaches. “You, too.”
“I’m not turning down ice cream,” Coach Way said.
The one who ended up really put out was Paul since I didn’t have my wallet handy. I was sure it would be expensed, so I didn’t take his scowl seriously.
While we were eating ice cream, one of the USA Baseball directors took Coach Kingwood aside. He came back with an announcement.
“Due to crowd concerns, we will play our game in the stadium tonight.”
Everyone turned to look at me.
“Hey, look at it this way. Scouts are lazy and would much rather sit and watch you play than stand to watch you,” I reasoned.
“I knew having you on our team would pay off,” Allard said. “I bet we get to play in the stadium the rest of our games.”
“What’s this about you being ‘Redneck Crazy’?” Coach Mallei, our pitching coach, asked him.
Allard blushed and shook his head.
“Ah, hell ... I didn’t think anyone would hear about that here,” he started, which now had all our attention. “I guess I’m not getting out of telling the story.”
“No, this sounds too good,” Austin said.
“Okay. I’d been dating this girl, Kelly-Ann, for about two years. She was a pretty little thing that stole my heart. Almost no one saw it. She was on the Dean’s List and I was a jock. She asked me to one of those Sadie Hawkins dances where the girl gets to ask the boy. I’d just broken up with a long-time girlfriend and no one wanted to ask me for fear she’d be mad.
“Tiffany was sort of the girl everyone expected me to date. She was the mayor’s daughter and one of the rich kids. I, on the other hand, lived in a family that never had an extra dime between us, but because I was a baseball star, it was okay for Tiffany to date me.
“Anyways, Kelly-Ann asked me to the dance. From that point on, I was smitten. She just had a way about her and she was easy to be around. With Tiffany, it had all been about how it made her look and she worried about what people thought. Kelly-Ann wasn’t like that.
“I was sure I was in love with Kelly-Ann. We both planned to go to the University of Arkansas. She’d get a business degree and I’d play baseball. But Buddy Daniels happened.
“Buddy was the star quarterback at my school and was dating Tiffany. He asked Kelly-Ann to help tutor him in math. I didn’t think nothing of it until my best friend Matt told me that Buddy had been sniffing around where he shouldn’t. I thought he was full of shit, but Matt’s a good guy.
“A couple of Fridays ago Matt took me out and we had a few beers. He told me that Buddy had taken Kelly-Ann up to his farm. He’d been bragging that he was going to nail her that night. Matt drove me to the farm and sure enough, Buddy’s pickup was parked out front.
“I had Matt pull up to the front of the house where I could see the lights on. He turned on his floodlights we sometimes use when night fishing. It’s supposed to attract the catfish. I don’t think it works, but it does make it easier to find your beer.
“We could see the curtains pull back. Matt and I just decided to drink the rest of the beer and wait them out. Buddy would have to take Kelly-Ann home at some point. I did toss my empties at the window every now and then to get their attention.
“I guess Buddy wasn’t as dumb as I thought because he called the county sheriff on us. Then again, Buddy was dumb enough to come out of the house before their car even stopped. It was enough time for me to get in a few good licks.
Dani
- 29.05.2021
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