#10
Hinds was playing in the winner’s bracket game in the 1999 NJCAA Region 23, Division 2 Tournament in Senatobia, Mississippi, coming off our 10-2 opening round win over the number 1 team in the nation, the Northwest Mississippi Rangers on their home field.
We were playing our south division arch-rival from Copiah-Lincoln and were in the midst of what we called the “Fortenberry” Curse, which included an 11 game losing streak to the Wolfpack that originated in an elimination game that got away from us in the same tournament two years earlier at Itawamba Community College in Fulton.
We actually had winning streak against them just before this particular curse began, so this rivalry ran in painful cycles for each team.
In the current tournament game, we were leading 4-3, batting in the top of the seventh inning, with runners on first and second, with nobody out and our number nine hitter coming to the plate. It was a Ron Polk Playbook classic bunting situation, so I summoned the hitter to strategize and the Co-Lin pitching coach, Pete Young (former Mississippi State and MLB ace hurler) made a trip to the mound to set the defense and pitching plan for the anticipated bunt.
Our nine-hole hitter was not your typical nine-hole hitter. He was Kevin Cronin and he could have hit in any number of spots in the lineup, but he was a perfect fit for this spot because he really complemented what had turned into an explosive offense in our late season run to the post-season. And just like we designed it, once again the number 9 hitter came to the plate with the game on the line.
Hitting ninth, Kevin got a lot of fastballs to hit and he never complained, like all of the others ones did, at least not to me. He was always productive and said that batting ninth “was better than batting tenth.” Words of wisdom!
Kevin had been deaf since birth, but through the great education provided by his family, he communicated well and was the master of reading lips. He never let being hearing impaired become a handicap. He could do anything he wanted to do and still does to this day.
I laugh when I remember the times when I would get on him about something and when he didn’t want to hear it, he would just look away. Scott Williams and John Paul Weigand, also deaf players who played on Hinds teams in the 1980s, would do the same thing. We would just walk around in circles until the messages were delivered.
I told Kevin to bunt the ball down the third base line and move the runners to second and third. He nodded and said “Okay” and then turned to walk back to home plate. And oh, by the way, he was a very good bunter.
In the meantime, Pete was talking to his infielders about what bunt defense they would use and I’m almost certain that he told his pitcher to just “throw a strike” and “let him bunt” and get the sure out at first and then perhaps, they would intentionally walk the next hitter, our red hot lead-off man Shondell Lockridge, with first base open and go for the double play with one out.
As Kevin was walking back to the batter’s box and still hearing impaired, I changed my mind and decided I wanted him to swing and not bunt. And for some reason, I said out loud, “Wait!,” knowing darn well he couldn’t hear me. I don’t even know why I said it, but guess what? He stopped… and turned around and looked right at me.
Master communicator!
I can’t explain why that happened. Maybe it was because he really didn’t want to bunt and wanted to give me a glance to see if I had changed my mind. I don’t know why he turned around at that exact moment, but he did and I was glad he did. I walked in his direction and without making a sound and with my hands cupped around my mouth so no one else could read my lips, I yelled, silently, “sit on a fastball!”
Nobody heard me, except Kevin.
The pitcher, the defense, and the opposing coaches were still expecting a bunt. And just like he was told, the pitcher laid a big fat fastball right down the middle of the plate, about belt high. Kevin swung and smashed a fly ball that was traveling with the appropriate launch angle and at a high exit velocity in the direction of the gigantic scoreboard behind the left field fence.
It was just like the final scene in the movie, The Natural. Everything was in slow motion and everybody was anticipating a loud crash as the ball hit the scoreboard, with lights breaking, sparks flying and other special movie effects.
But, ironically, there was only silence. There was big net in front of the scoreboard to protect it in times like these and the only sound it made was “poof!“
Then it got really loud, at least on our side of the field!
The three-run homer put us up 7-3 with just six outs to get, which our ace closer, Clay Overby got easily with his nasty, unhittable slider. (P.S.- it’s the best pitch in baseball)
The curse had been broken! Co-Lin moved to the loser’s bracket game later that day, lost to Northwest and then went back to Wesson later that night. This was a date that would live in infamy for both teams. For us, it was the thrill of victory and a trip to the championship game against Northwest on Sunday afternoon. For them, it was the agony of defeat, sort of like a curse of the loss and I bet they replay it in their minds even today. It just one of those things you can’t forget whether you won or lost.
We played the number 1 team in the country for a second time… which we won, 12-10. As Region 23 Champions, for the fourth time in a decade, advanced to the district playoffs in St. Louis, Missouri against the defending Region 23, Division 2 champions. We won two of three and earned a berth in the Division II World Series in Millington, Tennessee for the third time in six seasons. It would be the fourth World Series for Hinds, one in Grand Junction, Colorado and the other three in Millington. We finished fourth in the nation and beat the number 1 ranked team in the country 3 times along the way.
It was the greatest turn around ever! It was magical, improbable, but not certainly not impossible and no one expected it to happen… but us.
But, it did Blanche! It did happen! (famous line from an old movie)
Two lessons learned: 1) In baseball, the only important game is the one you are playing today. You always get to start with a 0-0 score and you always have a 50/50 chance to win, always; those are not Las Vegas odds, but real life odds… you either can or you can’t, will or you won’t, do or you don’t. 2) You don’t always have to be heard to communicate effectively. And oh yeah, 3) The universal rule is always in effect; the team with the most runs wins… always!
It’s a pretty simple game.
Rick Clarke's Diary of a Mad Baseball Coach 