Deputy Josephine Rissley sat at her desk next to Tom’s. When Sheriff Harper had come in, she noticed he had lost a few pounds and thought he looked better than he had in years―younger too. Nikki has been a good influence, she knew. She was especially appreciative that her influence on him didn’t get projected onto his deputies.
Although Harper chose to wear the official full uniform, she didn’t care for it. She never wore the tie and on her feet, although black, were tennis shoes. The biggest change she had made was when she convinced Harper to adopt a different style of hat. The Stetson never looked good on her so Harper allowed an option. The deputies could either wear the Stetson or a black baseball style cap with the gold Sheriff’s star emblem on the front. She liked to wear the cap, as she did this morning, with her blonde hair pulled into a pony tail through the back of it.
Leaning back in the chair with her feet up on the desk corner, she slowly sipped her morning coffee as she reviewed last week’s traffic violation report. It was the usual boring stuff, but she didn’t mind. She had spent the last seven years learning all the ins and outs of this department, and ninety percent of it fell into the boring category.
At only twenty-seven Joe, as everyone had come to know her, was the youngest deputy in the department― yet she practically ran everything. She knew how many tickets were issued, to whom, and for what. She knew which cases were open or closed, and who was working on them.
She didn’t have a photographic memory, just a really good one. She liked to test it often and did that by concentrating on the details. Usually these details were so boring that nobody else bothered with them.
Everyone got use to asking her for information, but she didn’t mind. Helping in anyway possible made her feel good, and she quickly became an indispensable part of the team. Sheriff Harper relied on her constantly.
What’s happening with that vandalism case? What were the results of the accident investigation? Where’s my coffee cup? These were questions she received daily from the Sheriff on down.
The other deputies nick-named her “Data” from the TV show Star Trek The Next Generation, because she could rattle off facts on demand. Although it was suppose to be a compliment, she didn’t care for the name because it implied a cold, unemotional personality, and she was far from that.
Born into an athletic family, Joe was the youngest of three children, as well as the only girl. Growing up as a tom boy, she had to learn how to compete with her older, bigger brothers and all their friends. She found that by being observant of people and situations, she could gain an advantage over others who just relied on size and strength to win.
Baseball was the family passion. Her father had been a great pitcher, and at one time played semi-pro ball. His arm had long since been thrown out, but his knowledge of the game was as sharp as ever. For as long as Joe could remember, her father coached the Centralia Mustangs, a baseball team in the State amateur league. When Joe was young, he would let her sit in the dug out with the team. She paid close attention to how he sat on the bench quietly. Always watching. Always thinking. She noticed how he moved the players around. He would signal the infield to shift over, put in a pinch hitter, or call for the hit and run. Each time she would ask. “Why did you do that, Daddy? Why?”
He was always patient with her and loved to explain the game. “According to Sun Tzu’s, The Art of War,” he told her, “In order to win consistently and be the best you must know two things. First, you must know yourself, and, secondly, you must know your enemy.”
She had never forgotten this. He helped her figure out what her strengths and weakness were. Then he helped her work on the weaknesses until they became strengths. He also taught her how to read team and player statistics. How to find their weaknesses and use it to her advantage. She learned what different batters liked to swing at and where they usually hit it. Who was likely to steal a base and who could make the big play.
Her father coached each of his children and determined which position they should play in. Billy was the oldest, big and tall, like his father, he naturally followed in Dad’s footsteps and became a pitcher. Danny, the second oldest, took after his mother’s side of the family and was short and stocky. Joe’s father made him the catcher.
Although tall for a girl, Joe was smaller than most players. She was, however, quick, fast and had a strong throwing arm. Combined with her knowledge of the game, she made a perfect short stop. She constantly worked on every aspect of her game. At bat, she was no power house and never swung for the wall. She spent hours in the batting cage and developed herself into an exceptional contact switch hitter. Last season was her best yet, she hit .300 from both sides of the plate.
A couple of years ago, she got interested in pitching. She watched her father coach Billy and got as many pointers as she could. Throwing a few with Danny quickly became a habit. She was getting good and her father started letting her pitch at batting practice to her teammates. Last season, with more help from her father, her arm became stronger and she threw the ball with more power and action. She knew she was onto something good when not even her brothers could get a decent hit.
By the end of the season the bull pin was faltering and gave away several key games in the last innings. She knew she could do better and begged her father to put her in as a reliever.
Her father was understanding but refused. “We’ve developed the infield into a well oiled machine of which you play a key role,” he had told her. “I can’t afford to make any changes this late in the season. It could throw off synchronicity.” Although very disappointed, she knew he was right.
They finished the regular season with the bull pin still weak. During the playoffs, her father had compensated by keeping the starters in for as long as he could. The pitchers were exhausted, but they managed to hold it together and get the team into the championship game.
It was a wonderful sight. It seemed to Joe the whole town had come out to see the game. The packed stands were a collage of color and excitement. People carried signs, made banners and the high school band was playing the fight song.
They were to play the Tri-City Eagles. The Eagles had the best record in the State and a reputation for punishing pitchers. Joe’s team had played them in the regular season and had come away without success.
Most of the game was an exciting pitching duel. Billy was pitching and by mid-game had orchestrated a phenomenal series of strike outs. But the other team’s pitcher had done equally well and the game was tied with zeros.
Situations changed in the sixth, however, with hits being earned by both teams as the pitchers got tired. The Eagles scored first then the Mustangs answered. The Eagles were starting to light Billy up, but exceptional defensive play by the infield kept the Mustangs in the game.
Miraculously, by the end of the eighth, the Mustangs were ahead by one. The Eagles started the ninth with a fresh pitcher and the Mustangs went down one, two and three. The whole team was surprised when Joe’s father sent Billy back to the mound to finish the game.
The first batter connected with Billy’s first pitch and put it out of the infield for a base hit. Joe could see Billy had nothing left and she looked to the dug out wondering why her father didn’t pull him out. The second batter was the top of the line up. He too jumped on Billy’s first pitch and put it in the gap for a double.
“Time!” Joe’s father yelled as he stepped out of the dug out then strolled slowly to the mound. Danny ran over from the plate and Joe came in from short stop to listen in. The tying run was on third and the winning run was on second with no outs.
Joe’s father took the ball from Billy. “You pitched a heck of a game, son. Thank you. The bull pin can take it from here.”
“Daddy!” Joe exclaimed. “Do you want to win this game or not?” She glared at him. It was the last inning of the last game of the year. She knew his previous reasons for not letting her pitch were no longer valid.
> Her father looked at her for a moment and sized up the situation. “Strike ‘em out.” Was all he said as he handed her the ball then turned and walk back toward the dug out. Both Billy and Danny flashed their little sister a proud smile before turning and leaving the mound.
The crowd was dumbfounded. What was the coach doing? they all wondered. Eagle fans jeered her and even some of her home fans booed the decision. Joe was on the mound, exactly where she wanted to be, but suddenly she realized the game was different some how.
All eyes were on her as everyone looked for any sign of weakness or misstep. With all of the attention her hands began to shake. No, she told herself. This wasn’t the time for a case of nerves.
Her father saw what was happening and understood. He stood up and motioned for the rest of the dug out to do the same. “Let’s go!” he yelled. “One, two, three!” The rest of her team cheered her on as well, then slowly her home town fans started in.
The encouragement helped but she struggled to stay focused. “Know yourself,” she remembered. “Then know your enemy.” She forced her mind to replay the batters statistics she memorized the night before. She was calmer now.
“Batter up!” the umpire yelled. The next batter was the second in the line up. She would be pitching to the heart of the order.
Someone in the stands yelled. “She probably throws like a girl! Hit a home run so we can all go home!” This brought laughter from the stands but this time it didn’t shake Joe. She was going to use it to her advantage.
She looked at the batter as he stepped into the box. He was smiling. She remembered his stats. He was a power hitter with a .292 average. He always, always, always swung at the first pitch. She knew he would be swinging for the wall and that he was over confident. She decided to throw him garbage.
Drawing back for the wind up, she appeared to put everything she had into it but instead throw a very weak slider. The ball headed for the center of the plate. The batter swung hard but as Joe expected, the ball fell out of the air at the last second and landed just short of the plate. The batter missed it by a mile.
“Strike one!” the umpire yelled.
This brought laughter and jeers from the stands. Even the batter began to laugh. “She can’t even get it across the plate!” someone yelled.
Nobody realized she meant to do that. She looked again at the batter. He took a couple of practice swings then rested the bat lazily on his shoulder and waited. Joe wound up and this time fired a missile down the heart of the plate. The batter reacted too late and again missed by a mile.
“Strike two!” the ump yelled. Again laughter from the stands, but this time it was directed at the batter. He didn’t like it, even his own teammates were razzing him. Now he was mad and more determined than ever. Cocking back the bat, he stood ready as he glared back at Joe.
She decided to waste another one and see if he went for it. Drawing back for the wind up, she aimed for the outside corner and let the fast ball fly. The batter leaned inward and began to swing hard. Realizing too late that it was outside the strike zone, he couldn’t pull back and almost fell over as his bat found air yet again.
“Strike three! Batters out!” yelled the ump.
Head down, the batter stomped off angrily to the tune of more laughter and jeers. Joe heard the next batter tease the first. “I’ll show you how to hit off a girl,” he chuckled.
She recalled his stats. Hitting .307 during the regular season, he was currently in a batting slump and was dangerously susceptible to high heat. Knowing what she had to do, she wound up and fired bullets. Inside, outside then center, she sent him packing with three high fast balls in a row.
The atmosphere in the stadium had suddenly changed. There was no more laughter from anyone. Her home town fans were cheering while the visitors fell silent. People in the stand were starting to believe. Could she possibly pull it off? they all wondered.
Joe watched the next batter walk slowly to the plate. He was watching her, trying to size her up. He was not going to underestimate her as his teammates had. The crowd fell silent.
Joe recalled the batters stats. He was the clean up hitter. Batting .324 for the season, he hit everything well. He was calm, patient and dangerous. With new pitchers, he liked to see what they had so he routinely let the first pitch sail past in order to study it.
Joe was counting on it so she was going to make it a good one. She wound up and fired a fast ball down the heart of the plate. The batter’s muscle tightened when he realized it was a perfect pitch. He began to swing then held back at the last second.
“Strike one!” the ump yelled.
The batter didn’t care. He had gotten a good look at Joe’s best stuff and knew that he would be ready for it when it came by again. Joe analyzed the data in her brain hoping to find some chink in the batters armor. Maybe she could fool him with another slider. She wound up and let it fly. The batter watched it coming in fast. He leaned in on it and began to swing but at the last instant pulled back as it dropped short of the strike zone.
“Ball.”
Continuing to think, Joe ran through the situation in her head. Other pitchers had been afraid of this guy and threw to the outside trying to keep it away from him. Less that twenty percent of everything he had seen all season was inside. She hoped that would be enough of an advantage. She wound up and let fly an inside fast ball.
He was expecting a pitch to the outside, but this was in his wheel house. He swung hard and was able to turn on it. Putting solid lumber on the ball, he launched it deep down the left field line. There was a loud gasp from the crowd as every eye watched it sail over the fence just foul of the pole.
“Strike two!” the ump yelled.
Joe could have sworn her heart had stopped. As the echo of the crack of the bat faded from her ears, she had to remind herself to breathe. She could feel every hair on her body standing on end as a new ball was thrown out to her. She was afraid yet exhilarated at the same time.
“What was she going to do?” she wondered intensely. She looked over at him. He was slowly and calmly digging in for the final volley. Everything he had seen before he has crushed. Desperately looking for a solution, Joe again went over the stats, then it hit her. Everything he had seen before… She had thrown nothing but straight balls the whole inning.
Her eyes narrowed as the ends of her mouth curled up into a thin devilish smile. “Time to throw this bum a curve,” she decided.
Drawing way back, she wound up and gave it all she had. The crowd held their breath as they watched the ball race toward the outside corner of the plate. It seemed like slow motion to Joe as she watched the batter lean forward and swing. Instantly, the spin on the ball overpowered its forward velocity. The ball rose up and in towards the batters hands. He tried to correct but it was too late. The bat caught nothing but air as the ball sailed past it and into the catcher’s mitt.
“Strike three! Batters out!” the ump yelled.
The crowd erupted with cheer. Her teammates threw hats and gloves in the air in triumph then raced to the mound to congratulate her. Billy and Danny lifted their little sister up into the air and carried her around on their shoulders. She looked for her father and saw him standing outside the dugout with a huge smile on his face. He couldn’t be more proud of her and he knew, as she did, that she would be addicted to pitching for the rest of her life.
* * * *
Chapter 2
The Edge