Ted Who?Chapter 3 free porn video

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Spring training was a blast. I finally felt like I was getting my shot, and that the past three low-pay, low-recognition years might bear some fruit. I came to camp in shape and ready to kick ass, and that's what happened. I hit so well there was no way in Hell the Orioles could decide not to take me back to Baltimore with them for the start of the season.

Four weeks into the regular schedule, I was on fire. Still no long ball, but my average was attracting attention all over the league. I filled in at second base on occasion, but mostly I was the designated hitter.

Lots of guys manage to keep the average up over .400 in April. It's not unheard of.

I was hitting .476 on May 1. It might not have been unheard of, but it was pretty damned unusual. Worse than that, I was giving people fits at the plate. Once, in a game against Toronto, their starter was ahead of us, 6-4 in the sixth inning, but he was starting to tire. There were two out and nobody on when it was my turn at bat. I told Paul I was going to finish him.

"Can't hit a three-run homer with nobody on," Paul said, smiling.

"Can't hit a homer at all," I said. "But I'm going to finish him, anyway."

I started fouling off pitches, deliberately. The count on me was no balls, two strikes, and it stayed that way for 14 more pitches -- every one of them a souvenir for the fans along the first and third base lines. On pitch number 17, which would have been a ball, outside and low -- I singled over the second baseman.

As I stood on first, the Toronto manager came and got his weary pitcher.

Another thing I loved doing was crossing up the opposition's defense. During the first two weeks of the season, I deliberately hit everything to left field. I'd pull ground-rule doubles down the foul line, bouncing them into the stands after they landed, barely fair, behind third base. I'd whip ground singles between third and short. Everything I hit was "pulled" -- if anything I hit could really be called a pull hit.

Word quickly got around the league and, just as I expected, soon they were doing infield "shifts" on me. Boston stationed its left fielder in close, right behind third, almost flat on the foul line. They moved the shortstop into the gap, and moved both their second baseman and center fielder far over on the wrong side of second base. They were well-prepared to snag anything I could make contact with. They had really cut down on my options on the third-base side.

Even the right fielder was pulled way over toward center. So I just punched the next pitch over the first baseman's head and made what was probably the shortest-distance double anybody had hit that season.

If I'd have had any kind of punch at all, it would have gone for a triple.

That elaborate little trick could probably only be pulled once, but it sure livened things up at the time. After that, I would just scatter my hits all over the field, and the "shift" strategy quickly disappeared.

Pitchers really didn't like me much, and I can't blame them. I deliberately aggravated opposing pitchers by making them work, extra-hard, before punching their best stuff over their infield for ugly little hits. Sure, they were pros, and they knew it was all in the game, but a lot of them still took it kinda personal.

So I got thrown at -- a lot -- and had to start wearing a big elbow protector on my left arm to catch some of the tight stuff I couldn't avoid. I guess that, for the same reason I couldn't move very quickly around second base, I also wasn't too good at getting out of the way of brush-back pitches.

That first-avoidance step is the hardest.

On May 11, in Minnesota, I took a fastball on the left cheekbone that put me down for the count.

When I woke up, I was in a hospital bed. Nothing hurt, but I could tell, immediately, that I was doing all my seeing with my right eye only. My left eye was either blind or blocked.

My right eye saw something awfully nice, though. A gorgeous red-haired cupcake in candy stripes. "You the nurse?" I asked her.

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Ted 8217 s family ecounter part 1

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Same as Ted Who?
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Ted WhoChapter 17

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Ted and His Best MateChapter 2

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Ted WhoChapter 4

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Ted WhoChapter 16

Now that I had spent some time in Sandy's real Magic Box, I quickly found that all my troubles as a hitter were over. The seven-game home stand with the Yankees and Indians was an artistic triumph, both for the Orioles and for me. No hitting streak to speak of -- I took a collar in the first game against Cleveland -- but I had hit well throughout both series. My average kept climbing. It was July now. Time for batting averages to start wearing down. Nope. I was hitting .419 when we left...

Ted WhoChapter 18

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Ted WhoChapter 22

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Ted WhoChapter 2

So February finally came and I set aside my dreams of working out with the Oakland A's in Arizona and headed for the Orioles' Florida minor league training camp. It turned out to be a pretty well-organized place, with some coaches and trainers who seemed to know what they were doing. I got all sorts of physical examinations in the first three days, taking up practically all my off-field daylight-hours free time. Maybe the Orioles were making certain the Athletics hadn't palmed off some...

Ted WhoChapter 5

We had a home series with Cleveland and I started all three games at DH. I had two hits in the series opener and started feeling all warm and fuzzy about my comeback from the beaning. But I went O-for-9 in the following two games. While the Indians were catching a plane for their next stop, I got on the phone to Sandra Graffinino. "Yes?" "Ms. Graffinino?" "Yes." "My name is Joshua Brennan. You were recommended to me by Dr... " "Yes, he told me you might call." "He...

Ted WhoChapter 6

We got back into town after the six-game road trip and I could hardly wait to call Sandy. I'd started all six games and gotten 26 plate appearances. For the 26 trips, I had two hits, two walks, and was hit by a pitch once. There'd been no obvious cringing at the plate, no bailing out -- I didn't even feel stressed about the pitch that hit me on the left shoulder, even though it missed all the elbow padding and stung like a sonuvabitch. So I didn't feel spooked at the plate. But -- two...

Ted WhoChapter 7

The lid was lifted off and the ceiling light blinded me for a moment. I also felt a rush of cooler air and realized that, inside the box, there was adequate air for breathing but not enough air circulating to allow for temperature control. My clothes are soaked with sweat. "You OK?" Sandy asked me. "I guess. I need a shower in the worst way. You should have told me to bring a change of clothes." "Want some lunch?" "I need to clean up, before I go out anywhere. I guess I should just...

Ted WhoChapter 8

We were just starting a nine-game home stand and had two more with Detroit. The next night, Sandy wasn't at the game, but I managed to scratch out one hit in four trips. We won again -- no thanks to my limited offensive prowess. In the final game of the Detroit series, I took the collar. Just when I thought all was well, I went oh-for-five. We lost that one, and I deserved some of the credit for the no-show of the Orioles' offense. I called Sandy after the game, even though it was already...

Ted WhoChapter 9

Some pitchers are better at baffling particular hitters than others. On the other hand, sometimes a very ordinary, .245-hitting reserve infielder is, for reasons unknown to Man, able to hit the league's premier pitcher like he owned him. Match ups are part of the fun of the game. I was looking forward to the next game in the series against the Royals, because they had Alphonso Cardenez scheduled to pitch, and I owned the guy. Cardenez was a damned good pitcher. You had to be good to win...

Ted WhoChapter 10

Sandy came to the game that night and, as promised, she paid me no notice at all -- no waves, no thrown kisses, nothing. But I saw her up there, sitting in the Family section. But this time she was very close to the dugout, alongside Amy Parkison, the young woman who served as translator for our Japanese left-hander, Shiggie Nomura. Shiggie had just joined the club recently, and it looked like he would really improve our pitching staff. Shiggie's translator, Amy, was a fine-looking young...

Ted WhoChapter 11

Sandy and Amy got along like long-lost twin sisters, although they really weren't much alike. Amy Parkison was drop-dead gorgeous, and practically every guy on the team had been lusting after her since the first time we'd seen her. Shigeo Nomura, our young Japanese lefthander, spoke almost no English, and Amy had been hired as his translator. Nomura didn't seem to be romantically interested in Amy, although his roommate, Sam Bailey, obviously was giving her a full-time rush. The three of...

Ted WhoChapter 12

I drove Sandy home from the airport and offered to take her to dinner. She declined, but asked me if I'd stop by a supermarket on the way to her house so she could pick up a few items and not have to go back out again. Pleased at the opportunity to spend a little more time with her, I agreed. We tooled around the supermarket with Sandy's shopping cart like an old married couple. I thought about getting a few things for my own use, but decided against it, just in case Sandy decided to...

Ted WhoChapter 13

My Thursday night date for dinner and dancing with Sandy was encouraging. We had a great dinner and some real conversation. I realized, in the middle of it, that we'd never much talked about anything before except my hitting and my therapeutic needs. Most of what I'd said to Sandy had been a part of my effort to persuade her not to abandon me while the team was on the road. Now that she'd taken a definite stand against accompanying me on the next road trip, we could at least drop that...

Ted WhoChapter 14

Our plane was late getting back from Atlanta, and I called Sandy from the airport to let her know, and to apologize for my late arrival. She said it was cool and I should take my time getting there. "It's Sunday night," she said. "You can sleep in tomorrow, and so can I, being the self-employed budding novelist that I am." It was almost 9 when I arrived at the shotgun house on the north side. The lights were blazing in the front room -- Sandy's living room. She opened the door, kissed...

Ted WhoChapter 15

Sandy kept her housecoat on while she unbuttoned my shirt, removed it, motioned for me to kick off my loafers, and then started unbuckling my belt. When she pulled down my pants, she took care to pull my Jockeys down with them. Unceremonious. I wasn't hard yet, although I was sporting a semi. It had all happened kind of quick, and Sandy's frumpy housecoat wasn't doing it for me. In addition, I think I was still wondering if Sandy wasn't maybe too much of a flake for me. "Socks," she...

Ted WhoChapter 19

With only twelve games left in the season and the Yankees and Orioles in a flat-footed tie for first, Paul Warren had me batting third in the order, the better to advance base runners in the game's opening inning. Unfortunately, we didn't have any base runners when I came up with two out in the first. The first pitch came in very high and very tight -- right where my nose would have been if I hadn't had such an open stance. As it was, it whistled by my right ear without much space to...

Ted WhoChapter 20

I stood in at the plate and waited for the pitch. It was high and outside and I let it go by for ball one. Evidently, the Yankees were through trying to intimidate me at the plate by pitching me close. The next pitch was a slow curve, almost in the dirt and again, well outside by the time it went by. But I had flinched, all the same, when the ball had left the pitcher's grasp. The pitch that had smacked me in the face had brought back the fear. The next pitch was fat, with nothing on it....

Ted WhoChapter 21

We got to Camden Yards only a little late and still hours before game time, but coming there directly from the hospital was disconcerting. For me, the whole day had been feeling a little off. All those hours spent with doctors instead of with Sandy. Now, I was asking my manager for a day off. That wasn't like me, at all. Paul Warren, however, didn't raise an eyebrow. He just penciled-in one of the newly called-up guys at DH and mumbled something about getting a look at what the kid could...

Ted WhoChapter 23

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This story was a finalist in the Short Story Category of the ASSTR Golden Clitorides Awards 2005I was challenged by my husband to write a Male/male story instead of my more usual female oriented stories. This is my attempt and I stress that it is simply a story. There is no basis in fact and the characters are fictitious.All characters are of course of an age to comply with the requirements of Lushstories.com. What is true is that my grandfather was born in 1900 and was too young for WW1 and...

Gay Male

Teddys WorldChapter 36 A Hot Time in Miami

(Sunday, Morning.) I called Marcus and asked if he was ready to meet with me. I advised him to pack up his room, and leave his suitcases with-in easy reach of the door. Cathy answered the door knowing that Melody was also coming. The women were pow wowing in the bedroom. My dad just opened the door and walked in along with a few of my Uncles and a few of the PI team members. Most brought their own chairs, just before we started our little sit down, the girls all came out of the room. "Were...

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