Lucas lay in bed for a few minutes longer than yesterday, his eyes closed as he tried to figure out just what felt different. For one thing, he hadn't remembered setting the alarm for 6 AM last night, as there wasn't any reason to. Maybe he had just forgot to turn it off the night before. But something else seemed ... peculiar.
Finally, he got out of bed and stretched. He heard rustling from downstairs, and the muffled sounds of both his mom's and his brother's voices. That was another odd thing, Lucas thought, with Jordan waking up this early on a Sunday. He must have had some trouble sleeping after yesterday's loss. Lucas sighed, figuring he best go downstairs and comfort him like a big brother should.
As he walked downstairs, however, he was ran into by Jordan, who was running upstairs with an excited grin on his face. ”There you are, Lucas! I was just coming up to get you. Mom made us both a big breakfast to get ready for the game!”
”Game?” Lucas asked, a puzzled look on his face. ”But, Jordan, you lost yesterday. That's the end of the season.”
”Huh?” Jordan scrunched up his nose and tilted his head to the side. ”What are you talking about? Our last game was a week ago, and besides, we've won out last six! That's why we're playing for the regional championship today, remember?” Lucas stared at Jordan blankly, but his brother didn't wait for a response, turning back around and heading downstairs. ”C'mon, the eggs are getting cold!!”
Shaking his head, Lucas slowly made his way downstairs. In the kitchen, his mom was sitting at the table, reading the paper. ”There you are, sleepyhead,” she said, smiling warmly. ”You weren't going to oversleep today and be late for Jordan's big game, were you?"
”No-- I mean, the game has already happened,” Lucas said, starting to feel a bit uneasy. ”His team lost by six runs yesterday. The other team was just so much bigger and stronger. Right?” He tried to say this last part with some confidence, but he wasn't sure of anything right now, and it showed in his voice.
Jordan looked up at Lucas, then back at his mom, and his excitement was starting to dip a little. Sensing this, his mom said, ”Oh, don't be ridiculous, Lucas. Jordan and the boys will have no problem winning today. No matter how big the other players are.”
After a few moments, she turned to Jordan, saying, ”Honey, would you do me a favor and refill my coffee mug? The pot’s on the counter.”
”Sure, mom!” he said, and leaped up to grab the cup and run towards the kitchen.
Once Jordan had left, his mother leaned forwards towards Lucas, speaking in a low but firm tone. ”Listen, Lucas. It's understandable that you’re feeling a little jealous that Jordan’s team has made it this far. But that doesn't give you the right to try to mess with his head like this.” Lucas started to protest, but was immediately cut off. ”I don't want to hear any more about it, okay?” she asked as Jordan came back in, carefully carrying a coffee mug filled to the brim. ”Thanks, hon,” she said, taking the cup from Jordan and sipping it, trying to keep it from spilling.
The rest of the breakfast went by in an awkward silence, and when Lucas had finished, he went upstairs to check the date on his cell phone. Somehow, some way, it seemed to be showing that it was still Saturday. Running to the family's computer, he looked at the date there, and it read the same. Pulling up the website for the atomic clock, he verified that it was still somehow Saturday. ”But that’s impossible!” he cried out aloud. ”How could it be the same day over again?" He started thinking that yesterday had been just a dream -- but he had remembered it so vividly.
Before too long, he found himself at the ballpark again, and sure enough, the rest of Jordan’s team was practicing, just like yesterday. Or at least, just how Lucas had remembered yesterday happening, but he wasn't so sure anymore. Something weird was definitely going on, that's for sure.
When the other team arrived, however, that's when Lucas realized just how weird things were. The players looked to be the same players from yesterday, the same faces and names on the uniforms-- except they were, somehow, even bigger! Where as yesterday, the tallest player on the team was just at six feet tall, today, the shortest player easily surpassed that, and the biggest stood well over seven feet!
”What the hell?” Lucas exclaimed, pointing and gawking. ”How in the world are any of those boys under fourteen years old?!” They did still have boyish faces and horsed around like twelve and thirteen year olds would, but they had bodies bigger than any adult he had ever seen. Even besides their incredible height, the boys were each ripped with bulging muscles that seemed to cause their uniforms to nearly burst off of their chest and arms. Their feet, too were huge-- Lucas guessed that they all had to have over size twenty shoes.
Looking back at Jordan and his teammates, though, Lucas quickly realized that no one else seemed to be fazed or even surprised by the incredibly imposing hulks before them. ”Of course they are,” Jordan answer his brother. ”What are you so surprised for, anyway? We've been watching tape on them for the last week. And we know just how to beat them!”
Unfortunately, that claim seemed to be way off the mark. It was clear even during batting practice that Jordan's team faced nearly impossible odds, as every member of the opposing team hit a home run on nearly every ball that was tossed at them. This carried over to the start of the game, as the first four batters each hit a home run on the first pitch of their at-bats, and by the end of the top of the first, the score was already 14-0. Jordan did his best to mix up curves and change-ups along with his fastball, but no matter what pitch he through, the batter would almost always be able to hit it.
Things went from bad to worse once the home team stepped up to the plate. The first pitch whizzed by the lead off batter, knocking him back with its sheer force. Lucas glanced over at a radar gun that a parent of the opposing team had brought to measure their pitch speed, and though he couldn't quite make all the numbers out, he swore he saw that it was triple digits. These pitches would be difficult for a major leaguer to hit, much less a twelve year old. Appropriately enough, as Lucas looked into the stands behind the cheering parents, there appeared to be several men that were watching the pitcher and jotting down notes - scouts, Lucas quickly realized.
WHOOSH! WHOOSH! Two more strikes without so much as a prayer of a swing, and the batter was out. The boy up to bat second was a carbon copy of the first, being sent down after three blazing fastballs. Jordan was the third batter, and he too had two quick strikes before finally being able to make contact, if barely, sending the ninth pitch of the inning foul off the first base line. The tenth pitch, however, got him swinging, and the inning was over.
The second and the third were more of the same, the opposing team scoring seven and twelve runs respectively, making it 33-0. With two outs in the bottom of the third, though, the home team got their first base runner, as one of those 100 mph+ fastballs ran a bit too far inside and hit the batter in the thigh.
The boy screamed in pain, collapsing to the ground right after being hit. The head coach, his teammates, and parents, immediately ran out to see if he was injured, and Lucas cringed as he heard the boy’s whimpering, painful even from where he stood in the third base coaching box. That feeling immediately changed to anger and disgust, though, when he overheard the opposing coach mutter to himself in the dugout behind him, saying, ”There goes the perfect game.” Lucas wanted to turn around and scream at him, berate him for being so blithe and uncaring about a boy with a possibly devastating injury, but he somehow found the restraint to hold back.
The boy finally came to his feet, shaking and wobbly, but managing to muster up a smile. A pinch runner came in for him at first, and the base runner became a moot point as the next batter went down on strikes.
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