"I'm ready!"

Coach called him up to start in their next away series. He was the youngest player on the team and he was definitely one of the youngest pitchers in the league right now. At twenty-two, he was at the precipice of his career. Well, he hoped to play for as long as possible. It's why he treated his body like a temple. No drinking, no smoking and eating as healthy as possible, and working out like a beast to stay in shape.

"There's no pressure on you." The coach said after their team meeting. "Just do what you do best."

"I'll throw that heat," he stated, confident in his abilities.

"Stick with that confidence."

He made sure he was well rested, instead of staying up late the night before, no hanging with the guys. Also, he made sure to eat food that energized him and did not drag him down. He stuck with his warm-up routine that he had been doing since he was fifteen to help with blood flow. A round of dynamic stretches including arm circles, leg swirls, and high knee jogs. Then he stretched with bands to get his shoulders and arms mobilized. Then there were stretches for the neck, back and shoulders, lateral lunges for the legs, trunk twists and circles and bends,

That was not it. After the stretching warm up he had a throwing routine to go through. q   

He had other little rituals he followed as well. He wore his arm warmers before they were called out to the field. Then he continued to warm up with a few pitches. Starting with a few long-distance pitches to get his arm ready, then increasing the distance and throwing to several other players. Not wanting to tire his arm out before the big game, then he would take a break and hydrate. Let other pitchers get a warmup in. Then he would go back to the mound and throw to all the bases several times, and then to hitters in a pretend game.

All of this was before the game even began.

They would be at a disadvantage being away. This was not their city, not their crowd. There would be no cheers for him or his team. There may even be boos. They were playing a team that had a nice winning streak while they were coming off a few losses. His head was a buzz from all the thoughts that could go wrong.

What if the first pitch he threw out the hitter scored a home run?

What if all the hitters scored a hit from him?

What if his arm gave out and he could not deliver?

It all rested on his shoulders, playing the game of his life to show that he needed to be there.

He wished his parents could see him. They were home in Caruthersville, surely watching the game on TV. They used to come to all his games as a kid, even came to watch a few in college and of course the Minors. When he moved up to St. Louis, they tried to catch as many home games as they could.

His parents were not rich. He was enough making to offer to pay for them to travel more to see his games, but they flat out refused. As soon as he could save more, he wanted to buy them a bigger house and anything else they needed. They deserved to be taken care of.

"Get us out of this slump!" Anthony said to him. He was the lead hitter so far on the team, outscoring all the old heads on the team. Not bad for his second year on the team.

Anthony had proven himself to the team. He had yet to.

Tonight was his night.

As the game started, he was ready. He was in the lineup sixth, so at least he could rest his arm. First at bat was Thomas Jones, the second baseman, who struck out. Great!

Second at bat was his friend Anthony, and he hit a base hit on an error from the opposing team. Good. This was a better start.

Third at bat, Perez Landon probably had the worst record and was struck out in no time. They needed someone to get things going.

No such luck with the fourth at-bat player, who hit a popout with an easy catch from the center fielder.

Now he was up.

The crowd roaring had to be tuned out to him as he walked out of the dugout with the rest of the team. He fist-bumped the umpire and gave him their friendly dap up before he made it to the mound. It was do or die now.

He looked around at the crowd, the lights, the large screens all around. Even though he had played a few games last season, and even this season, it felt different all of a sudden. He was no longer in the shadow, as a closer, he was on display as the starting pitcher.

Little Federico McGhee from Caruthersville, Missouri.

The first pitch was a fastball at ninety-six miles per hour. The batter didn't even know what was up. And then more of that three times. His warm-up was working so far.

He followed that up by striking out the next two batters.

He was on fire!

Back in the dugout, his team hyped him up a bit, but it was only the first inning. He had a lot more game to play. He had to show them he was more than just a pitcher, he knew how to hit the ball. During his time at bat, he scored a double, after the player in front of him made it to first base. And now they had a chance of scoring.

No out, a man on second and third. The next batter up, a strikeout.

He groaned in frustration, hoping for some action with the next batter.

Boom! And there it was. A hit to center field, and the outfielder miscalculated the catch and missed the ball. The crowd roared in anger, but again, he blocked it out.

If the player in front of him could make it home, maybe he could as well. He was a fast runner, so he rounded third base and gunned it to home. The coaches waved him on and he slid into home base as the ball whizzed by his face and the catcher caught it.

"Safe!" he heard the umpire yell out, motioning with his hands.

Now they had a game.

He was in the zone now. They were in the lead 2-0 when he took the mound again, and just like before, he scored three strikeouts. He had to stay in the zone though, no celebrating just yet.

"Focus! Focus! Focus!" he chanted to himself.

He cleared his mind of all thoughts. This was more than a game. This was his life. What he worked for many years. There was no one better than him. He wanted to keep the starting spot for as long as he could.

By inning six they scored a couple more runs and he still was that man with all strikeouts, but he was not going to say the word. The Coach felt it too, and called a timeout to approach the mound. This was unbelievable for his first time starting.

"You good?" Coach Richter said to him while the pitching Coach Dawson was there as well. "You need to be relieved or do you have a few more in you?"

"I'm good Coach."

Top of the seventh inning, the other team called in a pinch hitter. He was still going strong. Most pitchers only pitched five or six innings. As long as he felt fired up, he did not want to stop. The opposing team needed something to happen, but this did not intimidate him. They did not score anything more but that was okay, they still were holding on to their lead.

Bottom of the seventh, he threw a curve ball with his first pitch to catch the hitter off guard,  heat.

Another strikeout.

The guys in the bullpen were going wild. Still, no one needed to say anything. Baseball was a very superstitious sport. Two more innings, maybe he could make it to perfection. He tried not to let that get into his mind. Just play the game as best he could.

Top of the eight, he was up at bat next. He could play it safe, or show them what he was made of. First ball, a swing and he knocked it out the field into the stands.

The roar of boos did not faze him as he jogged around the bases and made it back to home plate.

"Big showoff!" Anthony said as he dapped him up when he made it back to the team.

"Stay on their necks!" Perez said to him.

"I hope you didn't injure that pitching arm."

"Keep the heat!"

He sat and took a swig from his water bottle, caught his breath, and got himself back into the zone. His first home run of the season. Something about it energized him. He wanted to do it all over again.

They were winning 6-0 now. It was like a massacre. He had to get through two more innings of perfection. Did he have it in him?

Yes, yes he did.

It was a complete shutout game, with them winning 7-0, after another player scored a homerun in the ninth inning.

"You are the man!" several of his teammates were saying to him.

Back in the locker room, all the media wanted to talk to him. They could finally say the words they were not allowed to say during the game. He pitched a no-hitter game. He allowed no hits to be recorded by any player on the opposing team. Or also called a shutout since the other team was unable to score. The home run he scored made it even sweeter. He was the new golden boy. All eyes were on him.

He wanted to get away and call his parents, ask if they saw his perfect game. Of course, they had and they were in tears. They were so proud of him.

Life was good, what else did he need?