The sunlight dipped low as Dranred threw his second pitch to Romeo.
Crack!
The ball shot toward center field — but the fielder snagged it cleanly. Still, Romeo made it safely to first base.
One out. One runner on base.
The next batter stepped up, squared for a bunt — and missed completely.
Two outs now. Romeo stayed frozen at first.
Then came the cleanup hitter — tall, calm, confident. Dranred remembered him well.
He could send a ball flying beyond the fence with one perfect swing.
Dranred's first pitch: Strike.
Second pitch: Foul.
Third pitch— a long hit soaring high into the outfield.
For a moment, everyone thought it would clear the fence.
Then, with a leap, the center fielder caught it cleanly.
The inning was over.
Three batters out, one runner stranded.
The infielders jogged toward the dugout.
"Not bad. Nice pitch, rookie," one of them said, clapping Dranred's shoulder.
Dranred glanced at his catcher.
Moments ago, the guy had been scolding him — now, he couldn't meet his eyes.
The catcher began removing his gear when—
"Strike three! Batter out!" the umpire shouted suddenly.
Heads turned toward the field. Charlie had struck out the leadoff hitter in just three pitches.
The crowd murmured in disbelief.
Even the batter looked stunned.
"I saw the ball," he muttered, "but it was gone before I could move."
Charlie faced the next batter — the catcher.
Three pitches later, another strikeout.
Then the third batter — the same result.
Three straight strikeouts. The inning was done before anyone could blink.
The crowd erupted. The dugout buzzed with disbelief.
Through three innings, Dranred had allowed only one hit — and zero runs.
Before being subbed out, he had one more turn at the plate.
Charlie wound up and delivered.
Dranred swung — crack! — a clean line drive to right field.
He sprinted and slid into second base, safe.
He grinned. Finally.
But the next three batters fell one after another — all struck out by Charlie's brutal precision.
Dranred stayed stranded at second, breathing hard, grinning despite himself.
AFTER THE FINAL INNING
The scoreboard glowed: 2–0.
Charlie's team took the win, powered by his two home runs.
Still, the national team — and especially the new applicants — had left a strong impression.
When the dust settled, the head coach stepped forward.
"The new recruits… Dranred and his catcher — welcome to the national team."
The dugout burst into cheers.
Charlie's teammates approached, shaking hands with the rookies.
"The next time we meet," one of them said, smiling, "it'll be on an international field."
"You'd better be ready," another laughed.
Dranred smiled back. "We'll be the ones taking the win next time."
Laughter rippled through both teams.
Charlie walked over, crossing his arms.
"Your pitches still miss the mark sometimes," he said. "You've got work to do."
"I know," Dranred replied with a smirk. "That's the plan."
Charlie turned to the coach. "Take care of him, Coach. He's stubborn, but he's got potential."
The coach chuckled. "I'll keep that in mind."
As they laughed, the sunlight caught the field, warm and golden.
Charlie looked once more at his nephew — standing tall, proud, eyes forward.
For the first time, he didn't see the boy who once looked up to him.
He saw a rival.