Let her finish

You keep watching, noting details as she positions herself and then swings, seeing a few flaws but not as many as you would expect in a teenage girl.

Finally the machine beeps three times and she gives a long sigh and relaxes. As she steps back to lean her bat against the cage she notices you and gives a tiny start of surprise before recovering.

"Coach Watts?" she says with the tiniest of smiles.

"That's right. And from what I was hearing, you're Dontai Williams."

"You heard that?" She looks faintly embarrassed.

"Don't worry about it. The story is that Ted Williams used to do the same thing. And it worked out pretty well for him."

She gives a small laugh and shakes her head. "I heard that story too. I figured if it worked for the greatest hitter who ever lived, it wouldn't hurt to try."

"You were hitting the ball pretty good in there," you say as she steps out of the cage.

"You see anything I could be doing better?"

"A few things. Your hands sometimes drift and your head doesn't come still all the time. It can be worked on."

She nods, thinking about what you've said, then looking at you with inquiring eyes.

"You played pro ball. You were Oakland's fourth pick in the draft," she adds, surprising you with her knowledge. "You never got out of the low minors. What happened?"

"I couldn't hit professional pitching. Once they figured out that I had trouble with the curve and that a slider was a mystery to me opponents killed me."

"You never saw breaking pitches in college?"

"Not like those, at least not that often. There is a hell of a difference between even the lowest of minors and college ball."

She nods again thoughtfully. "I looked you up. When they sent out the package this year and said you were hired and would be the new coach, I looked you up. You were a great fielder."

"I was pretty good, but the old story in baseball is "good field, no hit" isn't good enough. I was so bad the Mendoza line would have been an achievement. You know what that means?" you laugh as she chuckles knowingly.

"My grandad taught me a lot about baseball. How to play it and how to talk it. He mostly raised me," she says with a touch of pride. "I played baseball on boys teams til I was fourteen. Then they wouldn't let me play anything except softball. I don't like it much, but it's better than not playing at all. You miss playing?"

"Only everyday that I wake up."

She nods and smiles, looking at you as if trying to decide something.

"Last year the coach, Ms. Naylor, she didn't play me much at shortstop. Had me playing outfield mostly. Said my speed and arm was more useful out there. Will you try me at short?"

"Sure. As far as I'm concerned players should get a look during practice and tune up games at almost any position they want. I'll make the decision who's best suited after I see them play."

"That's fair," she says with a nod of her head. "I'm a scholarship girl here. Had to work hard for everything, all my life. Not like some of these...," she breaks off and looks away. "All I want is a fair chance," she adds quietly.

"You'll get it from me," you promise, finding yourself impressed by her determination and plain speaking.

She turns her gaze back on you and you feel as if you're being x-rayed.

"I hope so Coach."