The Hardest Month Yet

The countdown had begun.

One month until tryouts.

One month to prove he could compete at the varsity level. One month to convince Coach Talbot that he belonged on the team over Ethan Reyes.

Logan wasn't backing down.

If anything, the pressure lit a fire in him.

Every afternoon, he was the first on the field and the last to leave.

The grind had never been more real.

Monday – Hitting: Facing His Weakness

Coach Talbot had one goal for Logan in the batting cages—make him uncomfortable.

"You can crush fastballs," Talbot said. "But what happens when pitchers start throwing junk?"

Logan adjusted his helmet. "Guess we'll find out."

Marcus Lee stood on the mound, smirking. "Hope you like sliders, Clutch."

First pitch—slider low and away.

Logan swung and missed.

"Too eager," Coach Talbot called. "Wait for your pitch."

Next pitch—changeup down the middle.

Logan swung early, hitting a weak dribbler to short.

Drew, watching from behind the cage, winced. "Yeah… that wasn't great."

Logan clenched his jaw. He hated feeling outmatched.

Marcus wound up again—curveball.

This time, Logan waited.

CRACK.

The ball shot into the left-center gap.

Talbot nodded. "Better. But do it again."

And so Logan did.

For the next hour, he faced breaking balls nonstop—tracking spin, adjusting his timing, and learning.

By the end of the session?

His swings were sharper. His confidence was growing.

And Marcus?

"Well, damn," the pitcher muttered. "I think he figured it out."

Tuesday – Defense: The Battle at Second Base

If Logan wanted to start on varsity, he had to beat Ethan Reyes.

And Ethan?

He wasn't going down without a fight.

During infield drills, the competition between them was obvious.

Grounder to second—Ethan fielded it flawlessly and fired to first.

Next play—Logan did the same.

Double-play drill—Ethan turned a clean pivot.

Logan? Even quicker.

At one point, Jimmy—who had to work with both of them—let out a frustrated groan.

"Damn, you guys need to chill. I feel like a divorced parent splitting time between two kids."

The team laughed, but Logan and Ethan barely acknowledged it.

They were too focused.

Too locked in.

Coach Talbot watched silently, scribbling notes on his clipboard.

When practice ended, he pulled Logan aside.

"You're holding your own," he said.

Logan wiped sweat from his forehead. "But is it enough?"

Talbot didn't answer right away.

Then, he said, "We'll see."

And walked off.

Logan exhaled.

He still had work to do.

Wednesday – Speed & Strength: No Room for Weakness

Logan had been pushing himself hard, but today?

Today was brutal.

Drew and Big Mac had one goal—make Logan faster and stronger.

It started with sprints—first to second, second to third, home to home.

Then reaction drills—Drew calling out situations, forcing Logan to react like it was a live game.

Then weight training—Big Mac spotting Logan as he pushed through squats and deadlifts.

By the end, Logan collapsed on the grass, staring at the sky.

"Bro," he gasped. "I think I just died."

Drew laughed. "Good. Means you're getting better."

Big Mac smirked. "Or it means he's actually dead. Either way, solid work."

Logan groaned.

His body ached. His legs felt like cement.

But deep down?

He felt stronger.

Faster.