“You mean that he’s the best prospect you’ve ever seen,” Friedman said without looking up from the scouting report.

“No,” Rogers said slowly.  “He’s the best player I’ve ever seen.”

Friedman looked up from the scouting report at the aged scout.  He looked at Rogers for five seconds and turned his attention back to the report.  He read for a minute while scribbling some notes on a Blackberry.

“This time down the line can’t be right,” Friedman said.  “No one’s that fast.”

“This kid is.”

Friedman made a few more notes and then put down the report.

“Would you stake your entire reputation on this kid?” Friedman said.  “Would you be willing to stand up in front of the entire press corps like I have to do and say this kid is going to be the second coming of Babe Ruth?”

“No, I wouldn’t say that,” Rogers said.  “I’d say he’s going to be Babe Ruth, Hank Aaron and Lou Brock combined.  The major league record book will be called the ‘Diary of Dale Elison’ before he’s done.”

“Let me guess,” Friedman said with a laugh.  “He’s signed with Boras.”

“No,” Rogers said.  “Right now he doesn’t have an agent.”

“What?”

“He’s not signing with an agent because his intention is to go to Penn State,” Rogers said.

“Oh, this is this the Philly kid,” Friedman said.

“Yeah.”

Friedman picked up the report and gave it another look.

“If we don’t draft him we’re going to take a lot of heat,” Friedman said.  “Even if the fans and the media know there’s no way we can sign him they’re going to be calling for our heads if he goes second to Pittsburgh and they somehow land him.”

“Yep.”

Friedman’s secretary came in with a tray of sandwiches and drinks.  The two men moved to a conference table and ripped into their early dinner.

“So we have the first pick in the draft and we’re going to have to willingly throw it away,” Friedman said.  “What did we do to get God so angry with us?”

Rogers laughed so hard he almost choked on a bite of his roast beef sub.

“Maybe we can sign him,” Friedman said.  “He knows full well it’s a crap shoot that he can sign with Philly in three years.  He could get hurt.  He’s passing up millions.”

“I tried all of that,” Rogers said as he reached for a Barq’s root beer. “The kid doesn’t respond when I bring that up but he still hasn’t wavered in his position that it’s Philly or college.”

“There’s a way around that,” a man’s voice said from the doorway.  Friedman and Rogers turned to see Rays’ owner Stuart Sternberg.  “We just turn the media against him.”

“How do you mean?” Friedman said.  “He hasn’t really done anything we can use against him yet.”

“Sure,” Sternberg said as he walked in and took half of Rogers’ sub.  “All we do is make it appear he’s a punk kid who is blowing a chance at his future.  We make him look greedy and selfish.  He’ll be so weighed down by the pressure that he’ll have no choice but to sign.”

“Won’t make him like us very much,” Friedman said.  “What good does it do to piss him off at the beginning?”

“He’s a kid,” Sternberg said.  “A kid with absolutely no bargaining power.  He’s not going to go to college when there’s millions in front of him because no one will back him up on it.”

“I still think that’s pretty risky,” Friedman said.  “But if we could get it going now that would give us about a month to really get the screws turned on him.”

“I’ll get RJ to leak to the press that the kid’s scouting report says he’s a potential troublemaker,” Steinberg said.  “That he can be stubborn and doesn’t always listen to his coach’s sound advice.  Even if his coach denies it, when he says he won’t sign with us it’ll look like the rumors are true.  Then we’ve got him.”

“That would be a mistake, Mr. Sternberg,” Rogers said.  “You don’t know this kid.  He’s not your typical teenager.”

“Bull,” Sternberg snapped.  “I guarantee right now he’s sitting in his room playing a Wii with his girlfriend
and talking about the things he’s going to buy with his money.”

5:11pm; Bellefonte, PA, Dale Elison’s bedroom

“See the way he leans like that?” Dale said.  “He’s going on this pitch.”

“No way in hell,” Dale’s teammate Rob James said.  “You don’t steal on a 3-0 count when you know the fastball’s coming down the pipe for a called strike.”

“Ten bucks says he goes.”

“You’re on.”

Arizona Diamondbacks pitcher Chad Qualls went into the windup and Shane Victorino took off from first and slid into the second with a stolen base.

“Damn,” Rob said as he took out his wallet.

“I told you,” Dale said.  “The lean.”

“You know way too much about baseball,” Rob said as he handed over the ten bucks.

“Eh, I know enough,” Dale said.  “I’m sure there’s more I don’t know though.”

The two friends fell silent as they watched more of the Diamondbacks-Phillies game.  At the end of the seventh inning, Dale’s mom came in with a plate of pizza bites and flavored water.

“Are you watching this game again?” Sandra said.

“No,” Dale said as James sat up in his chair.

“You watched this last night,” Sandra said.

“You scumbag,” Rob said as he hit Dale with a pillow.  “I want my ten bucks back.”

Sandra gave Dale her mom look and he handed back the ten bucks.

“That Rogers guy from Tampa called for you today,” Sandra said as she turned to leave.  “He really wants to sit down with you and talk about money.  He said they’ll make you the richest rookie in history.”

“It’s not all about money, Mom.”

“No,” Sandra replied as she paused at the door.  “It’s not.”

“But?” Dale asked.

“It can make things a lot easier.”

Sandra walked out.

“You really going to pass up the money?” Rob said.

“I don’t want to play for Tampa,” Dale said.  “They suck.”

“Yeah, they do,” Rob said.  “But a few million can help ease the suck.”

“No,” Dale said.  “I can’t stand to lose.  You know that.”

“I know,” Rob said.  “But you can’t be the one who turns around a franchise if they don’t need to be turned.”

Dale picked up a pizza bite and tossed it at Rob.

“Can’t turn a Titanic.”

“They’d just bug the house,” Erin said. “Aren’t you watching CSI anymore?”

“Quiet,” Dale said.

The three were standing just outside Mike Rogers’ open bedroom window. The curtains were closed but the three could hear Mike and Jessica talking about what they had been doing for the last ten minutes after the trio arrived on the scene.

“Why don’t you just dump him and be with me?” Mike asked Jessica.

“Because you know it wouldn’t work with us,” Jessica said. “Sure, you’re great in bed but there’s more to a relationship than good sex.”

“Great sex,” Mike replied.

“No, just good.”

Dale looked at the two girls with him and their faces were both red from embarrassment. He realized that these good little church girls weren’t used to hearing this kind of talk. He flashed them a smile with the intent of making them feel a little more uncomfortable but felt really guilty when he saw the smile accomplished it.

“So do you even love the guy?” Mike asked.

“Not really,” Jessica said. “But I do love that he’s going to make a ton of money very soon.”

“Like you can ever be faithful to him,” Mike said.

“Well, eventually I’ll wear him down,” Jessica said. “He’s so focused on his baseball anyway that he just takes for granted how much I love him. What I do when he’s not around doesn’t really matter in the long run. As long as I look good he’ll keep me around and when I don’t I’ll get half in the divorce.”

“You really are a little bitch,” Mike said.

“And you love it because you get laid,” Jessica said. “Now shut up and get back to work.”

As they resumed their amorous encounter, Dale turned and started walking back across the street to Erin’s house. The girls trailed close on his heels with Brandi continually saying things in an attempt to comfort Dale. As she touched his shoulder, Dale spun around.

“Shut up please,” Dale said to her.

“Fine,” Brandi snapped back. “Sorry, Erin, I don’t need to put up with this. I’m walking home. I’ll call you tomorrow.”

“OK,” Erin said as she gave her friend a hug. “Text me when you get home.”

“Yeah,” Brandi said as she gave Dale an angry look. “Jocks.”

Dale looked at Brandi and just smiled.

Brandi almost sprinted up the street toward her house.

“You didn’t have to be so rude,” Erin said.

“I know,” Dale said. “I just get tired sometimes of people telling me how I should feel and what I should think.”

“I hear that,” Erin replied.

They walked to the front porch of her house and Dale sat down on the steps facing Mike’s house.

“I’d like to say I’m surprised by all of this,” Dale said.  “Well, i am surprised that you came to my house to tell me about it but I’m not surprised Jessica’s screwing around.”

“I’m sorry,” Erin said.

“Don’t be,” Dale said as he kept staring at Mike’s house.  “I’m not.”

“You going to confront her when she comes out?” Erin said.

Dale leaned forward, put his elbows on his knees and rested his head in his hands.

“No,” Dale said after a long pause.  “Wouldn’t really do any good.”

“I just don’t see why she would do that,” Erin said.  “I mean, you’re very good looking and you’re a great baseball player.  You seem to be a fairly nice guy.”

“It’s because I wouldn’t have sex with her,” Dale said.

Erin opened her mouth but words wouldn’t come out.

“What?” Dale said as he shot her a glance.  “You think Bible thumpers like yourself are the only ones who aren’t sleeping with anyone who moves?”

“Well,” Erin stammered.  “I didn’t mean to say…”

“It’s ok,” Dale said.  “The jocks have a well-earned reputation for getting physical off the field as much as on.  I just always thought that should mean more than a roll in the back seat because there was nothing else to do.”

“Um…” Erin said.  “You want to come talk to our church’s youth group?”

Dale turned and looked at Erin and saw her big smile that said she was only kidding.  He laughed.

“I’m sure that would go over well,” Dale said.

“You’re not a Christian?” Erin said.

“No,” Dale replied.

“Not yet,” Erin answered.

“Don’t bet on it,” Dale said.  “I enjoy actually enjoying things.”

“It’s not all boring,” Erin said.  “Although some of it can seem pretty cheesy sometimes.”

Dale and Erin continued their chat for an hour until it was interrupted by Jessica bouncing from the front door of Mike’s house and down to her car.  She didn’t look up at all so she missed noticing her boyfriend was watching her every move.  She slid into her car and seconds later was speeding up the street.

“Told you that she wouldn’t notice,” Dale said.

“Yeah,” Erin replied.  “You’re right on that one.”

Dale turned and put his hand on Erin’s shoulder and gave it a squeeze.

“Thank you for doing this,” Dale said as he stood up.  “You gave a damn when most folks would have just laughed behind my back.  This just makes it easier to break up with her.”

“You doing it tomorrow?” Erin asked.

“I don’t know,” Dale said.  “This just doesn’t seem to be the kind of thing where you just say ‘it’s over’ and walk away.”

“You want revenge,” Erin said.  “You know, God doesn’t like you to get your own revenge.”

“Yeah, heard that,” Dale said.  “Although I would argue that sometimes it’s not revenge to when you expose to the world someone’s actions at the most opportune time.”

Erin stared as Dale walked toward the driveway leading behind her house where his car was parked.

“Hey,” Dale said as he turned back toward her.  “You busy on May 10th?”

“I don’t know,” Erin said.  “I don’t think so.  Why?”

“I just thought perhaps you’d like to join me for something,” Dale said as he turned around and started walking.

Erin knew the date sounded familiar but couldn’t place it.  She heard Dale’s car start and then realized the significance of May 10th.  She leapt off the porch and started around her house when Dale pulled up next to her and lowered his window.

“That’s prom,” Erin said.

“Yeah,” Dale said without looking at her.

“You’re supposed to be going with Jessica.  She’s prom queen and you’re prom king.”

Dale turned to see Erin with a very knowing smile on her face.

“I know,” Dale replied.  “So is it revenge?”

“Well,” Erin said with a smirk, “did you actually ask her to go to prom with you?”

“No,” Dale said.  “She kind of just assumed we were going.”

“And you know what happens when you assume,” Erin said.

“So?” Dale asked.

“I think I have a dress somewhere in the closet,” Erin replied.

“I thought you might.”

“Great game tonight, honey,” Sandra Elison said as she rushed over to hug her son. “Your daddy would be so proud of you.”

“Well,” Dale said as he sat at the kitchen table, “then he should have stuck around to see it.”

“Stop that,” Sandra said. “He was sick.”

“He wasn’t sick,” Dale said as he picked at the plate of Chicken Voila! sitting in front of him. “He was selfish. He thought a bottle was more important than you or me.”

“He loved you a lot,” Sandra said. “Now drop it.”

“Yeah,” Dale answered in a soft voice. “Let’s drop it.”

They sat in silence as Dale quickly finished off the garlic chicken and noodles.

“Any calls today?” Dale asked.

“A few more of those agent types,” Sandra answered as she stood and walked to the counter. She flipped through the stack of post-it notes, picked one and tossed it on the table in front of Dale.

“About time that guy called,” Dale said.

“Who’s Scott Borax?” Sandra asked as she took Dale’s plate and began to wash it in the sink.

“Boras, mom,” Dale said with a laugh. “Scott Bor-ASS.”

“Well, he acted like one on the phone,” Sandra said.

They laughed as Dale stood up and walked to the fridge. He opened it and dug around until he found a Mountain Dew.

“He’s the top agent in baseball,” Dale said. “I suppose it would be good for me to consider him but I’ve had every other agent tell me that no one in the front offices likes the guy.”

“Might not be a bad idea to have a guy they don’t like because it means if they deal with him they respect him,” Sandra said. “He must watch his client’s backs.”

“I guess,” Dale said as he slumped into a chair and popped open the Dew.

“Where’s Jessica tonight?” Sandra asked. “You two are hardly together anymore.”

“She had to do something with her folks tonight,” Dale said. “I guess they’re getting a little aware that their little girl is heading off to college in a few months and they want to spend quality time with her.”

“That’s sweet,” Sandra said. “Quality time is always good.”

“I’m a little tired of it,” Dale said. “Honestly, I’m not really sure that we’re meant to be.”

“Why not?” Sandra said. “She absolutely adores you.”

“I guess so,” Dale said. “She just seems to be more interested in being my girlfriend than actually being with me.”

“You’re just feeling the pressure,” Sandra said as she walked over and put her hands on her son’s shoulders. “Don’t let it bother you so much and just enjoy the moment.”

7:12pm; Bellefonte, PA; outside of the home of Michael Rogers

The shiny black Ford Mustang slid into the driveway. Jessica Stevens threw open the driver’s door and slid out against the car letting her cheerleader skirt ride up as she made her way along the car. Mike stood up on his house’s front porch and applauded the impromptu striptease.

“You know you love it, baby!” Jessica yelled as she slammed the car door and pranced toward her lover.

“You’re such a tramp,” Mike said with a smirk.

“But I’m your tramp,” Jessica purred.

Jessica slowly walked up the porch steps and then leapt into Mike’s arms and began to kiss him passionately. Mike’s hands roamed all over Jessica as he carried her toward the front door of the house.

Across the street, two girls watched the sordid scene.

“Isn’t that Jessica Stevens?” the first girl said.

“Yes,” the second replied.

“Isn’t she supposed to be dating Dale Elison?”

“Yes.”

“Do you think he knows what’s going on?”

“Doubtful.”

The conversation paused while they watched Mike dry hump Jessica against the door frame. After a minute of passionate embrace they seemed to fall inside the house and the front door slammed shut.

“That’s not right, Erin.”

“No.”

“Someone should tell Dale about it.”

“Yes.”

The two girls walked downstairs and into the study where Erin’s mother was reading the Bible.

“Mom, can I use the car?” Erin asked. Her mother looked up with a puzzled look and put down her Bible.

“I thought you girls were staying in and watching movies,” she said.

“We planned on it,” Erin said. “Our plans have changed.”

7:54pm; Bellefonte, PA; Dale Elison’s House

“What’s the score?” Sandra asked.

“Phils are down three to one,” Dale replied. “I’m so sick of them losing all the time.”

“Well, it wouldn’t be a Philadelphia team if they were winning, right?”

“Shut up, mom,” Dale said with a sly smile.

“They’ll start winning when you play for them,” Sandra said.

“I won’t fall to them,” Dale said. “I know Tampa Bay’s going to pick me with the first pick.”

“You told them you wouldn’t sign with them.”

“It won’t stop them,” Dale said.

“True,” Sandra replied. “They have to save face.”

“I guess,” Dale said. He kicked off his shoes and laid back on the couch as Ryan Howard struck out to end the Phillies half of the second inning. “Damn it.”

“Hey,” Sandra said. “Watch the language.”

“Sorry mom,” Dale replied and went back to watching the game. His mother walked to the bay window in time to see a blue Oldsmobile Alero pulling into their driveway.

“Are you expecting company?” she asked.

“Nope,” Dale answered. “Probably another scout wanting to suck up.”

“No,” Sandra said as two girls exited the car and started walking toward the house. “It’s a couple girls about your age.”

“Groupies already?” Dale said with a smirk. “I guess it’s my lucky day after all.”

He stood up and walked to the window.

“I don’t know them,” Dale said. “I wonder what they want.”

Sandra moved to the front door and opened it just as the two girls were stepping onto the porch.

“Hello,” Erin said. “Is Dale home?”

“He’s busy right now,” Sandra said. “Do I know you?”

“I’m Erin McDougal,” Erin said. “This is my friend Brandi Sommers. We were in your cross-stitching class at the community center last year.”

“Pastor McDougal’s daughter,” Sandra said. “You’ve changed a lot since I last saw you.”

“I dyed my hair,” Erin said as her face flushed.

“It looks very nice,” Sandra said with a smile. “I’ll see if Dale can come talk to you.”

Sandra stepped back inside and closed the door.

“They’re nice girls,” Sandra said to Dale. “You should talk to them.”

“I don’t want to buy Girl Scout cookies,” Dale said to her.

“Just be nice,” Sandra said. “I’m sure they have a good reason to be here.”

Dale rolled his eyes and walked to the door. Taking a deep breath, he opened it to see Erin and Brandi had sat down on the porch steps. As he walked onto the porch, the girls jumped to their feet.

“We have something you need to see,” Erin said.

“That’s one of the more bizarre pick up lines I’ve heard,” Dale said. He expected them to turn shy and walk away but the girls just stood there with a cold, steely resolve on their faces.

“We’re not here to hit on you,” Brandi said as she turned to Erin. “Forget it, Erin. He’s just another dumb jock with an attitude.”

“No,” Erin said without breaking Dale’s gaze. “We have to do this.”

“Do what?” Dale asked.

“Break your heart,” Erin said.

“I guess it’s just too good to pass up,” McInnes said as he grabbed his notebook and climbed out of the car. He looked down at the piece of paper sticking out that said “Dale Elison.” A strong, cold wind blew the paper from his notebook and he stepped on it to keep it from flying across the parking lot. As he picked it up, a familiar foot appeared in front of him. McInnes knew only one person who still wore penny loafers to a baseball game.

“I can’t believe you’re here,” Donovan Rogers said. “You know full well there’s no way this kid is going to fall to the Yankees.”

“Yeah, I know,” McInnes said to the elderly man. “Still, I wouldn’t be doing my job if I didn’t send in a report on the kid. Someone told The Boss about him and he said to try and do whatever I could to convince the rest of you that his guy wasn’t worth the time or trouble.”

“Knowing full well that none of us would believe that,” Rogers said with a laugh. “This is the third time I’ve seen this kid.”

“And?” McInnes said as he turned to walk toward the field.

“He’s the best I’ve ever seen,” Rogers said.

“This from the guy who’s signed two Hall of Famers and more All Stars than I can count,” McInnes said with a smirk.

“Yep,” Rogers said.

The two baseball scouts walked to a cinder block building with a giant red Indian painted on it with a slogan “Can’t Stop The Red Raiders.”  Turning the corner, McInnes realized it was the concession stand and Rogers suggested McInnes get the “Red Raider Burger” with the lettuce and onions.  McInnes picked up the tab for both of the men.

“We won’t be sitting alone,” Rogers said with a chuckle.

“Oh?” McInnes said. “Who else is here?”

“It would be faster to ask me who’s not here,” Rogers said.

“OK,” McInnes said laughing as the men started to walk up the steps into the stands. “Who’s not here?”

“Boston,” Rogers said.

“Who else?” McInnes asked.

“Just Boston,” Rogers said. “Everyone else is here to watch this kid. Some of them have been here half a dozen times. It’s one of those situations where you are getting the chance to watch something really special and you want to take advantage of it before you cuss the fact he’s hitting against you.”

“I’m looking forward to seeing it,” McInnes said as he looked up and saw the other scouts from the other 29 Major League Baseball teams.

“It’s like it’s old home week,” McInnes said and the two men laughed.

The game between Bellefonte High School and Clearfield High School was scheduled to begin in five minutes. The object of all the scout’s attention was due to bat third and play third base in the game.

“Hey Joe,” Pete Pablo, scout for the Florida Marlins yelled.

McInnes waived to him and sat down with Rogers and Ernie Jackson, scout for the Tampa Bay Devil Rays.

“You taking the kid?” McInnes asked.

“I’d lose my job if I didn’t tell the home office to do exactly that,” Jackson said with a smile.

The teams took the field and all the eyes in the packed stands focused on the figure in the number 20 jersey running out to third base. Dale Elison might have only been a high school student but he could already bring a crowd to a hush. The ball was thrown around the infield and Clearfield went down one, two, three in the top of the first inning.

“You know, that pitcher’s not too bad,” McInnes said. “For a high school kid there’s a good drop in his curve.”

“That’s the advantage to having such a superstar on the team,” Rogers said. “We show up and if a kid can put together a few great game he might get drafted when he’s otherwise be signing up for a job at the nearest car wash.”

The scouts laughed as the first two batters for Bellefonte reached on walks.

“This pitcher reminds me of Mitch Williams,” John Allen, the scout for the Philadelphia Phillies, said loud enough for all to hear. The scouts laughed and shook their head in agreement.

“That’s one guy in a weird situation,” Rogers said.

“How so?” McInnes said as Elison walked from the on-deck circle to the plate.

“The kid said he’ll go to college unless he’s drafted by Philadelphia,” Rogers said.

“You’re kidding,” McInnes said.

“No,” Rogers said. “OK, here we go.”

Elison stepped into the right hand batter’s box and smacked the bat off his cleats. Digging in, he waved the wooden bat over his shoulder and locked his gaze at the pitcher. The catcher stood up and put out his hand to call for the automatic walk. The pitch was way outside for ball one.

“Son of a bitch,” a scout from behind McInnes said. “These guys are so scared they’re going to walk him and load the bases rather than risk the home run.”

“Hell Jack,” another scout answered, “the kid’s hit a home run every other at bat this season. Why would you risk going down three zip in the bottom of the first?”

Again, the catcher stood up and called to the pitchout. Unlike the first time, Elison stood in the batter’s box leaning on the bat like it was a cane.

“Is that a wooden bat?” McInnes asked Rogers.

“Yeah,” Rogers answered. “Two of the teams in the league refused to play Bellefonte unless the kid switched to a wooden bat because last season he smacked a line drive up the middle and shattered a pitcher’s finger when he tried to field it.”

“That’s impressive,” McInnes said.

“Just wait until he gets a chance to actually hit the ball,” Rogers said.

The catcher stood and called for the pitchout. Ball three.

“Look at the kid,” McInnes said. “He’s pissed.”

“You would be too,” Rogers said.

“That’s true enough,” McInnes answered. “He’s still to the point that he just wants to play the game. I guess if I could hit a home run every other at bat I’d be wanting to hit every chance I could.”

The catcher stood and Elison flipped the bat toward the Clearfield dugout as he charged down to first.

“Who’s he think he is?” One of the scouts yelled. “Pete Rose?”

“Don’t bet on it!” McInnes snapped back evoking a roar of laughter.

The scouts made small talk until the bottom of the third inning when Elison came up with two outs and no one on base and Clearfield leading two to zero.

“Gotta pitch to him now,” McInnes said.

“I hope so,” Rogers said. “I’d hate to have to go back with a scouting report that said ‘The kid knows how to take an intentional walk.’ The brass would be pissed off.”

Elison stood in the right side batter’s box and dug in. The first pitch came in just below the knees for ball one.

“Surprised he held off on that,” McInnes said.

“He has a really great eye,” Jackson said. “Of course, he’s only dealing with high school pitching to this point.”

The pitcher shook off three signals and then finally shook his head. He went into the wind-up and fired what the scouts assumed had to be his best attempt at a fastball. Elison swung and sent the ball at least 450 feet over the center field wall. Putting down his head, Elison made a quick jog around the bases without showing a single bit of joy over hitting what was his twenty fourth home run in only 14 games.

“Geez,” McInnes said. “Is this guy so sick of home runs already that he’s not even going to celebrate it?”

“That’s the way the kid is,” Jackson said. “He’s so workmanlike you would think he has been a major league veteran for a dozen years.”

“I know a boat load of major league guys who would not act that humble after hitting a home run,” Rogers said. All the other scouts mumbled agreement.

Bellefonte didn’t get another hit until Elison came to bat in the sixth inning. He was intentionally walked for the second time.

“Well,” Rogers said, “It’s been real, gentlemen.”

“You’re leaving?” McInnes asked.

“They’re going to walk the kid for the rest of the game,” Rogers said. “I saw a game last week where the bases were loaded and State College was up by one. They walked home the tying run rather than let Elison take a shot at beating them.”

“That’s insane,” McInnes said.

“That’s what happens when you face this kid,” Rogers said. “I’m telling you. This kid is going to make everyone forget Barry Bonds and his steroid enhanced record. This kid is going to be mentioned in the same breath as Hank Aaron or Babe Ruth.”

Rogers waved to the other scouts and made his way down the steps toward the parking lot. The other scouts packed up and headed for the exit. By the bottom of the eighth inning it was just McInnes, Jackson and Allen.

“John?” McInnes said to the Phillies scout. “Is it true this kid’s been telling people he will go to college unless you draft him?”

“So far that’s all he has said to everyone,” Allen answered. “However, if someone throws a few million at him I will be very surprised if he really takes that full ride to Penn State.”

“Penn State?” McInnes asked. “Hell, they don’t even have a respectable baseball program. Why would he go there?”

“He turned down Miami, Arizona State and Wichita State,” Jackson said. “He said that he wanted to be a Nittany Lion ever since he was a kid and he was going to be one if he wouldn’t be a Phialdelphia Phillie.”

“So he’s proven good on his threat before in turning down the other colleges?” McInnes asked.

“Yeah,” Jackson said, “which bodes very badly for the Tampa Bay Devil Rays and my bonus check.”

The three men laughed as Wililams walked to the plate. There were runners at second and third with one out and Clearfield leading the game five to four. The scouts started to pack up because the smart baseball play would be to walk Elison and have the double play set up.

“Wait a second,” Allen said as McInnes stood up to leave. “Look at the kid.”

McInnes turned to look and saw that instead of leaning on his bat as in the previous intentional walks, Elison was dug in like when he hit the home run. As the pitch came in, Elison’s bat twitched.

“Oh my God,” McInnes said. “He’s timing the kid’s pitch.”

“Oh man,” Jackson said. “This is going to be good.”

The second pitchout came in and Elison stood like a rock. McInnes sat back down, turned to Allen and smiled.

“This going to be worth the trip?” McInnes asked.

“Should be,” Allen said.

The pitcher for Clearfield tossed in a slow pitch toward his catcher’s outstretched glove. The pitch was outside but not too far away for Elison to try and get a piece of it. Elison lunged and smacked a line drive down the right field line. He sprinted to first as the entire Clearfield baseball team stood frozen and watched the baseball bounce into the right field corner. Elison rounded first and headed for second as the Clearfield coach started screaming for someone to get the ball. By the time the ball returned to the infield Elison was standing at third with a triple after putting Bellefonte ahead 6-5.

“That’s amazing,” McInnes said. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen that happen before in a baseball game.”

“I’ve seen this kid do a lot of things that I haven’t seen anyone do in a baseball game,” Jackson said. “This kid is the real deal.”

“Can I meet him?” McInnes asked.

“Sure,” Jackson said. “Once the game is over he usually makes time to play ‘Amuse The Scout’.”

The three men waited patiently for Bellefonte to wrap up their seven to six victory and for the little league players to get their autographs from Elison.

“Dale,” McInnes said as he approached with his hand out. “Joe McInnes from the New York Yankees.”

“Nice to meet you,” Elison said as he shook his hand. “I’m not going to sign with you.”

“No way in the world you would fall to us,” McInnes said. “Still, I had to check you out because The Boss wants to see you in pinstripes.”

“I would rather eat sushi straight from the ocean,” Elison said with a smile.

“Hey Dale,” Allen said.

“Hi Mr. Allen,” Elison said to the Phillies scout. “Any luck at changing the rules so that someone can trade you that first overall pick?”

“We wouldn’t trade it anyway,” Jackson said.

“I know,” Elison said as he shook the Devil Rays scout’s hand. “You know I am still not going to sign with you no matter what you offer me. I want to start a Phillie and I want to end my career a Phillies Hall of Famer.”

“Well, let’s put it this way,” Jackson said. “When you get out of Penn State you will still have to go where you are drafted regardless of if it’s Philadelphia or anywhere else. You won’t pass up being a pro ballplayer so someone will get you.”

Elison paused and started to clean his cleats.

“True.”

“Then why wait four more years to become a free agent and sign with the Phils?” Jackson said.

McInnes looked on with curious interest as Elison stopped cleaning his cleats and just stared at the dirty dugout floor.

“You have a point,” Elison said. “However, if I go to Penn State I get a college degree and a chance that I’ll end up in Philly.”

The scouts finished up their pleasantries with Elison and made their way to the parking lot.

“I guess he is the real deal,” McInnes said.

“Yeah,” Jackson said. “We have to find a way to get that guy signed. I think he could start for us right now.”

“That going to be your pitch to him?” McInnes asked.

“I can’t say for sure,” Jackson said. “I am going to definitely recommend it to guys in the front office.”

“Good luck,” McInnes said with a smile. “Even if you sign him, he’ll be gone in six seasons.”

“I’ll take six seasons of a superstar,” Jackson said. “Besides, I just find ‘em. It’s the owner’s job to keep ‘em.”