Die Like an Eagle Read Online Free PDF Page B

astonishing accuracy at just the right speed for relatively inexperienced hitters. Since we were currently playing at the “coach pitch” level, in which the batters faced not balls thrown by pitchers their own age but the familiar gentle tosses made by one of their coaches, Michael’s skill augured well for the team’s success. One of the fathers was behind the plate—possibly Vince Wong, although it was hard to tell since his face was hidden behind a catcher’s mask. In between, Adam Burke was at the plate, and beside him a whippet-thin blond woman in khaki shorts and a Caerphilly College t-shirt was making corrections to his grip and his stance.
    â€œTory’s amazing, isn’t she?” I turned to see that Chuck Davis had come up to lean on the pasture fence beside me and was beaming at the batting practice with visible pride.
    â€œYour wife?” I guessed.
    He nodded.
    â€œShe seems to know a lot about baseball.” Not that I was an expert myself—except maybe when it came to the rule books, thanks to all my recent insomnia. But I could see that Michael and the father in catcher’s gear weren’t objecting to what she was showing the kid—if anything, they were nodding in approval.
    â€œYeah, she’s definitely where Tommy gets his athletic ability,” Chuck said. “Me, I have two left feet and more than the usual number of thumbs, but Tory’s a whiz at any sport she plays. Baseball’s always been her favorite, though. I think if this country had a really competitive, organized professional women’s baseball league, she’d have tried out in a heartbeat, and I bet she’d have made it.”
    â€œSo she went into coaching instead?” I asked. The more I watched Tory work with Adam, the better his swing got—clearly she had a gift for teaching the sport.
    â€œNo, she went into nuclear physics instead,” he said. “Got her doctorate from Cal Tech. She teaches at Caerphilly College now. We just moved to town in the fall, when she got the post. I can’t tell you how excited she was to see Tommy starting to play ball.”
    â€œFeel free to tell me to mind my own business, but was there a reason she didn’t volunteer to coach Summerball? Workload at the college, for example? I mean, you’re doing a great job, but—”
    â€œNo, I’m doing a wretched job,” Chuck said. “Anything the boys have learned at practice, it’s mostly because of Michael, and maybe just a little because Tory teaches me all kinds of drills to pass on to the boys. And the drills help, too, as long as Michael’s there to help me run them. It should have been Tory, but the guy who runs the league never even responded to her application. So when they sent out the second or third call for coaches, I applied, and got accepted within an hour. Kind of discouraging, really. And we figured, okay, I’d be the coach in name and she’d do the actual work, but we quickly figured out that was a no go. Not if we didn’t want to get kicked out of the league. It’s frustrating. I mean, coming from Northern California we knew there would be trade-offs, moving to a small southern town, although we were hoping that since it was a college town—not that Caerphilly isn’t a lovely place—”
    â€œAnd we’re not all Neanderthals,” I said. “Just a few of us—including, unfortunately, the jerk who’s running the local Summerball league at the moment.”
    â€œAt the moment?” Chuck echoed. “Does that mean there’s some hope he won’t be running it indefinitely?”
    â€œI have no idea,” I said. “I only figured out today what a menace Biff Brown is, so I haven’t yet had a chance to figure out what we can do about him. But I’m putting it on my to-do list.”
    I pulled out my notebook, flipped it open to the proper section, and wrote