The grind begins

The glow of the afternoon sun bathed the field as Logan laced up his cleats. School had just let out, and while most of his classmates were heading home or hanging out, he was heading to the diamond.

This wasn't just about baseball anymore. This was about proving he belonged.

Senior year had arrived, and with the season starting in March, Logan had exactly four months to prepare. He had made a name for himself in the tournament, but that didn't guarantee him a spot on the official team.

Tryouts were in February—and Coach Talbot wouldn't hand out roster spots based on reputation.

Logan had to earn it.

Back to Work

The field was mostly empty except for Big Mac and Drew, who were already stretching near the dugout. Logan tossed his bag onto the bench and jogged over.

"Alright, Clutch," Drew said, cracking his knuckles. "You ready to get serious?"

Big Mac smirked. "He better be. No more 'I just learned baseball' excuses. You're a ballplayer now."

Logan grinned. "I'd be offended if that wasn't true."

Coach Talbot emerged from the batting cage, clipboard in hand. "You boys are early," he noted.

Big Mac grinned. "Gotta get those extra reps, Coach."

Talbot nodded approvingly. "Good. You'll need 'em."

He turned his sharp gaze to Logan. "Carter. You know the deal. You played well in the tournament, but this is high school ball. You're starting from scratch. You want a spot? You work for it."

Logan straightened his shoulders. "I wouldn't want it any other way."

Coach Talbot smirked. "Good answer."

Day One: Breaking Down the Plan

After warming up, the group gathered near home plate. Coach Talbot pulled out his clipboard.

"Four months," he said. "That's how long you've got until tryouts. We're gonna build you up, piece by piece."

He flipped the page.

"Here's the schedule:

• Mondays: Hitting mechanics & plate discipline

• Tuesdays: Defensive work & footwork drills

• Wednesdays: Base running & speed training

• Thursdays: Strength & conditioning

• Fridays: Simulated game reps"

Logan's stomach twisted. Every day after school. No breaks.

Coach Talbot looked at him. "You still in?"

Logan took a deep breath. "I'm in."

Hitting: The First Adjustment

Monday's focus: Hitting.

Logan had always been a natural hitter, but Coach Talbot wasn't interested in natural ability. He wanted precision.

Standing in the batter's box, Logan eyed Marcus Lee, a returning pitcher throwing bullpen sessions.

"Let's see what you've got," Coach Talbot said.

Marcus fired a fastball inside.

Logan tracked it but hesitated—strike one.

Coach crossed his arms. "Carter. What did you see?"

Logan replayed the pitch in his head. "It was inside. Probably… 85 miles per hour?"

Coach nodded. "And?"

Logan hesitated.

Coach Talbot raised an eyebrow. "You hesitated. You're guessing instead of trusting your eyes."

Logan clenched his jaw. "I won't hesitate next time."

The next pitch came. Another fastball. This time, Logan ripped it into left field.

Drew whistled. "Well, he learned fast."

Talbot smirked. "Not bad. Now do it against breaking balls."

This was going to be a long day.

Defensive Training: Becoming a Real Second Baseman

Tuesday rolled around, bringing defensive drills. Logan had improved at second base, but now? Now, Talbot was treating him like a real infield prospect.

Footwork drills. Glove work. Double plays with Jimmy.

By the first hour, Logan's legs were on fire.

Big Mac, watching from first base, laughed. "Welcome to infield boot camp, Clutch."

At one point, Logan misread a grounder, charging when he should've waited. The ball took a bad hop and bounced off his chest.

Coach Talbot groaned. "Carter! You let the ball come to you!"

Logan shook off the sting. "Got it, Coach."

They ran the drill again. And again. And again.

By the end of practice, Logan was exhausted—but he had made fewer mistakes.

Talbot gave him a small nod. "You're getting there."

Progress.

Base Running & Speed Work

Wednesday: Speed Training.

Drew, who had always been the fastest guy on the team, took the lead on this one.

"Alright, Carter," he said. "You've got decent speed, but decent ain't enough. You want to steal bases? Score from first? You gotta get faster."

Logan wiped sweat from his brow. "What's the plan?"

Drew grinned. "Sprints. A lot of them."

The next hour was hell.

First, short bursts from first to second.

Then, reaction drills off the pitcher's move.

Then, full-speed laps around the bases.

By the time Logan finished his last sprint, he was bent over, gasping.

Big Mac laughed. "Look at Clutch. Can't handle a little cardio?"

Logan shot him a glare. "I'll show you cardio when I beat you to first base."

Big Mac raised an eyebrow. "Oh, it's on."

They lined up.

"On my go," Drew said.

"Three… two… one—GO!"

They took off.

For the first few steps, Logan matched Big Mac stride for stride—but then?

He pulled ahead.

He beat him to first.

Big Mac doubled over, laughing. "Okay. Okay. I respect it."

Drew clapped Logan on the back. "Clutch Carter just got faster."

Logan grinned. "Damn right."

Strength & Conditioning: The Real Grind

Thursday was pure conditioning.

Weight training. Core workouts. Agility drills.

By the end, Logan couldn't feel his legs.

Big Mac, unfazed, was doing extra reps.

"How are you still standing?" Logan asked.

Big Mac grinned. "Years of eating burgers for protein."

Drew groaned. "That's not how it works, Mac."

Talbot walked by. "I don't care how you fuel up. Just be ready for game reps tomorrow."

Game reps?

Logan felt a second wind kick in.

Finally. A real test.

Simulated Games: Proving Himself Again

Friday's practice was a full scrimmage—live pitching, defensive plays, real game situations.

Logan was ready.

The first ball hit to him? A slow grounder. He charged, scooped, and fired to first—out.

Later, a double-play opportunity came. Jimmy flipped the ball to him, and Logan turned it—smoothly.

At the plate, he faced off against Marcus again.

First pitch: Fastball. Logan let it go.

Second pitch: Slider. He fouled it off.

Third pitch: Changeup.

Logan adjusted.

Crack!

A line drive to center field.

Drew cheered from the dugout. "That's my guy!"

Coach Talbot nodded. "Carter. That's how you compete."

Logan grinned, wiping sweat from his face.

The season was four months away.

Tryouts were in February.

And Logan Carter was just getting started.

To Be Continued…

(Next Chapter: Logan's grind continues—can he keep up the pace as tryouts approach?)