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Post by terry on Aug 26, 2011 12:26:17 GMT -5
 pulled the insects off plants,
no time to think of consequences[/size] Terrance usually could rely on certain players on his team to be consistently decent. The McKinley Titans were by no means an elite baseball team, but they were fairly good, good enough to consistently top the midwestern high school leagues. People got drafted out of McKinley, so they weren't hopeless as a baseball team. And of the players he had on his squad right now, Riley Taylor was one of the people he, normally, could rely on to make a single or two, catch everything that came his way, and be a generally good fundamental player.
That's why yesterday's game bothered Terry a little bit. Taylor began bobbling things. That wasn't something Riley did often; Terry could count the number of errors he had prior to the last game on one hand. Hoping Riley didn't think he was going to get his ass handed to him - Terry wasn't that kind of person - he told the teen to show up at the baseball diamond after classes. They were going to practice this catching thing until Riley started acting like Riley again.
To be fair, though, Riley did have a lot on his plate. Terry grabbed the ball bucket out of his office and wandered to the baseball diamond, which wasn't far from the locker rooms. It wasn't as noticeable as the gigantic football stadium, which could probably fit every Lima resident in it comfortably with room for hundreds more, but it wasn't something that you could ignore, either. Bat slung over his other shoulder, Terry thought of all the crap he saw Riley do on campus. He was the newly-approved president of the Celibacy Club, formerly famous for being run by a pregnant cheerleader. That was before Terry came to school, but, apparently, the student still attended McKinley. Riley also did work with the AV Club, in addition to everything Terry made him do for baseball. If the kid ever slept, it was probably during free period, but somehow Riley maintained good grades, too. Kid was a robot.
Then there was the little matter of Riley not standing up for himself around some of the nastier bullies... sure, that rock-headed Karofsky asswipe kid had laid off everyone, but his Bully Whips were barely doing anything to punish those outside of football. The hockey team was nasty, probably as a result of getting high-sticked in the head every game. Terry sighed, dumping the ball bucket by home plate before leaning the bat against it. Where was that kid? words 418
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Post by RILEY GRAYSON TAYLOR on Aug 26, 2011 12:49:50 GMT -5
| [atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, background-image:url(http://i54.tinypic.com/2vafwqd.jpg), border: solid #ffffff 5px; width: 400px; height: 500px;] Naturally, Riley Taylor - being somewhat of a timid guy - thought he was screwed when Coach Scott had asked him to meet him on the diamond after school today. And, naturally, Riley knew exactly what he had done wrong. Maybe he just needed a couple more hours of sleep or needed to stop trying to be Superman with all his different activities, but for some reason, he hadn't done so well at yesterday's game. Actually, that was a bit of an understatement - he was pretty sure that he'd made more errors in that one game than he had in his whole baseball career. Of course, that could have just been because he was inflexible in the sense that he had only ever played second base and so he was pretty good at it by now, but it could also have been that he had just, to put it one way, sucked yesterday.
The only decent excuse Riley could come up with was that he was too busy for his own good. It was a believable excuse - probably because it wasn't at all a lie - since he was now president of the Celibacy Club on top of all of his baseball and AV club duties, and was now crazy enough to consider trying out for glee club. He knew he probably should drop a few activities so he would stop staying up till midnight every night trying to prep meeting agendas and get his homework done. He knew he was barely scraping by with a B-average, so his grades were of the utmost importance. It made sense that all of the stress from his many activities was what had made him so antsy during the game and made him miss all of those catches. It could've also been that catching had never been his strong suit, but he'd never missed so many before (and didn't want to admit that he was a weak player in any way, shape, or form...after all, being on the team was important to him). In other words, Riley probably needed to drop a few extracurriculars. But he was way too stubborn to even consider going through with that.
Coming onto the field, Riley couldn't stop stressing over what this after-school meeting was all about. It had to be better than he was expecting, since Coach Scott had asked him to meet him on the diamond instead of in his office. But he couldn't stop freaking out about what the coach would say to him. He'd always liked Coach Scott, and he'd never been insanely strict unless he caught a kid drinking in the locker room or something (which had happened before...Riley had witnessed it), so the reasonable part of Riley wondered why on earth he was so frazzled about this. Jogging out to meet Coach Scott, who was standing on the diamond with the ball bucket at his feet, he skidded to a stop and ran his free hand through his sweaty mess of hair. "Sorry I'm late, Coach," he apologized, starting to wonder what all the balls were for. It was probably a good thing that Riley had his glove tucked under his arm.
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Post by terry on Aug 26, 2011 17:52:26 GMT -5
pulled the insects off plants,
no time to think of consequences [/size] The kid himself finally decided to show up, a few minutes after Terrance got himself settled at the diamond. Well, Terry knew he'd been harsh on some kids in the past, but not for performance in a game. For drinking in the locker room, yes. Terry came this close to smacking the buzz off of that idiot's face. But Riley being off his game only meant that he needed a bit more practice. Even though Riley was probably taking his performance harder than Terry was, most others, in the same situation... wouldn't. Terry was having a hard time accepting that some of his students just didn't take baseball that serious. It was true for every extra-curricular. There was probably a less-than-enthused Cheerio stuck at the bottom of the stunt pyramid in the auditorium at that minute. Just because it used to be Terry's entire life... he paused, nodding as Riley reached him, apologizing for being late. Terry picked the bat up effortlessly, noting that Riley had his glove shoved under his arm. Well, late and prepared was better than late and useless. "It's fine, Taylor." He noted Riley was staring at the ball bucket, and smirked. "You know why you're here, right?"
Riley was a smart kid; Terry figured he didn't have to do much explaining. "I'm just gonna hit balls at you." He paused. "...these balls." He kicked the bucket lightly with his torn-up Converse. "You don't usually fuck up on fielding, so I figure you just need some extra practice. Please stop looking like I'm going to kill you, I'm not going to kill you." Riley was a skittish little thing, from what Terry could tell. He glanced at Riley, noticing how sweaty and frazzled he was. "You okay?"
Terry glanced down to the ball bucket, yanking out one of the worn baseballs, staring at it for a few seconds. "I'm gonna try to hit everything to you, but, you know, I'm not great at it, so... eh..." Terry smirked, tossing the ball lightly in the air. Unlike Coach Sylvester, who took it upon herself to wear a track suit every day (in case a marathon broke out?), Terrance tended to wear something different, but equally casual, every day. Only when he remembered - oh yeah, hitting, that was hard - only when he recalled that did he question wearing jeans and a button-down. Well, Riley wasn't exactly field-ready, either. Things would even out. He glanced at Riley. "Dude, get to second base, what are you doing?" words 437
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notes i assumed riley wasn't dressed to play? please correct me if i assumed too much  |
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Post by RILEY GRAYSON TAYLOR on Aug 27, 2011 10:58:34 GMT -5
| [atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, background-image:url(http://i54.tinypic.com/2vafwqd.jpg), border: solid #ffffff 5px; width: 400px; height: 500px;] Riley figured he probably shouldn't be so hard on himself, since Coach Scott seemed to think he only needed a bit of extra practice (it didn't take him long to figure this out from the ball bucket sitting at the coach's feet), but baseball was the one sport Riley actually liked and was somewhat good at. He wasn't the most coordinated - being tall and gangly and not knowing what to do with himself most of the time - so it was a shock that he could manage to even play any sport at all without hurting himself. But, no; he'd made it through his entire time playing the game without breaking anything...no, wait, that was a lie. There was that one time he got hit in the face, but that was when he was, like, twelve. Or something like that. Riley snapped out of his thoughts when Coach Scott asked, "You know why you're here, right?" "Um, yeah; I know," he answered, taking his glove out from under his arm and shoving it on his right hand. He'd always written with his right hand, but been a lefty when it came to anything else.
Riley stopped staring at the ground and looked up at Coach Scott when he started explaining what they were going to do. He was only half-listening, since it hadn't taken much thinking to figure out what was going to happen; he wasn't stupid. However, Riley's full attention was grabbed when the coach said, "Please stop looking like I'm going to kill you; I'm not going to kill you." "Hm? Oh, yeah. Right. Sorry," Riley stammered, shoving his free hand in his back pocket and kicking up dirt with the toe of his hi-tops. "I guess I thought I was gonna get it a lot worse for screwing up." Which was entirely the truth, though he wasn't completely sure why he'd thought that.
"Yeah; I'm fine. I just kinda...sprinted over here," Riley admitted, a sheepish grin spreading across his face. "There was a mandatory AV club meeting, so I had to duck in there and tell them to e-mail me the minutes. Sorry." He apologized again, eyes shifting from different spots on the ground - his feet, Coach Scott's feet, the pitcher's mound, home plate. He dazed off a bit until he heard the coach say, "Dude, get to second base, what are you doing?" "Right," he muttered, jogging out to his position and feeling kind of stupid for just standing there like an idiot for so long. He probably shouldn't have worn skinny jeans to school today.
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Post by terry on Sept 5, 2011 17:39:34 GMT -5
pulled the insects off plants,
no time to think of consequences [/size] Riley didn't exactly elaborate when Terry asked him if he knew why he was getting extra practice. Riley was kind of an awkward kid, but Terry did expect a bit more speech. In any case, Terrance stared at Riley for some time, waiting for him to stop looking so shell-shocked. Eventually, he had to tell his second baseman to please not look so scared. Riley, acting as he usually did, mentioned that he thought he was going to get a lot worse for his screw-up. Terry watched Riley scuff up his high-tops, sending dirt billowing in the light Lima wind, letting out an exasperated little sigh. "You didn't do much wrong." Terry knew what doing wrong was, and knew that some of his kids feared him a bit, but Riley's only sin was being a bit off during a game. That could be worked out. "You were just off, so we're going to work it out. Why would I go nuts on you for that?"
Riley admitted that he was late because there'd been a mandatory AV meeting, and he couldn't miss that, but he couldn't miss this practice, either. Terry rolled his eyes. "You do way too much, you." Secretly, like every coach for every sport ever, Terry wanted Riley to do nothing but baseball. He wouldn't tell Riley that, because Riley seemed to enjoy what he did, but it was quite a load for the kid. He needed to lighten it up. Or something. The stress was probably what caused him to make so many errors last game. But Terry would definitely get to that.
The teen moved to second base, getting into position, readying himself. Terry picked up the bat effortlessly and dumped the ball bucket over, the balls circling around his feet. He grabbed one, glancing at Riley. "I'm gonna hit some grounders. Since that's what you were busy olay-ing all last game." No bitterness in his voice, but sometimes, his words came out a little harsher than necessary. Terry hit the first ball, sending it directly towards Riley, bouncing along the ground. He then hit another one, a bit farther right.
"So, you definitely weren't focused last game," Terrance said to Riley, hitting another grounder, this one sharp right of him. "Why not? And don't lie, I know what unfocused players look like." words 400
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Post by RILEY GRAYSON TAYLOR on Sept 6, 2011 15:33:42 GMT -5
| [atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, background-image:url(http://i54.tinypic.com/2vafwqd.jpg), border: solid #ffffff 5px; width: 400px; height: 500px;] Riley knew he hadn't screwed up all that badly, but he was still having little flutters of butterflies in his stomach. It could've been that he was just nervous about never improving - maybe he'd get stuck in this rut and become one of those infinitely-distracted ADD kids, forever doomed as a benchwarmer. A little shudder passed over him at the mere thought of never getting any playing time. Their team didn't have too many kids like that, but there were a few who hardly ever left the bench. Coach Scott did a good job at rotating everyone in as necessary, though....probably so the kids didn't disappoint their dads by sucking at the sport. Riley knew that his dad especially would have probably had a heart attack or a stroke or something if he hadn't ended up with his gene for second base. But that was probably specific to his family; he figured they were pretty atypical rather than normal. Yet again, had he ever really wanted them to be normal? Yes, he thought sourly, and he stopped kicking up dirt as he heard Coach Scott ask, "Why would I go nuts on you for that?" "Um..." he began, trailing off as he was unsure how to finish. The question wasn't really one that he had an answer for.
"You do way too much, you," the coach said, and Riley averted his eyes. He knew it was true, but he was being too stubborn to admit it. Sometimes he had the urge to drop everything but baseball, but he knew he'd never actually go through with it no matter how strong the feeling in his gut was. He wasn't even sure if he could manage to drop just one of his activities. Besides - if he dropped something, what would it be? Celibacy Club, was his immediate first thought, but he knew he could never do that. He had just been appointed president and it wasn't that difficult of a job...the only hard part was trying to act like he knew what he was doing or what he was talking about, when half the time he was just improvising. He did write up meeting drafts, but they always seemed stupid, so he never really stuck to what he wrote down. Riley had no idea who would want the job if he quit, anyways, and he knew he would disappoint his parents if he quit...and probably himself, too, he thought with another tiny sigh. Representing his faith was important to him and if he quit, he'd probably just spend the whole time conflicted against himself.
Riley almost cracked a smile at Coach Scott's comment, but caught himself before it could get further than a slight smirk. He readied himself as he heard the crack of the bat against the ball. A grounder started to roll towards him and he scooped it up, lighting underhand tossing the ball to the left of the bucket. "Yeah, I know," he said in agreement as he veered right to palm the next slower-moving grounder that had rolled to a stop about a foot away from him. As he tossed the ball back, he explained, "I don't really know what it was. High school is stressful, I guess. I have a lot on my plate and a lot to deal with every day." For one, there was the load of homework and the thousand and one activities he had involved himself in. On the other hand, there was the taunting, the teasing, the gossip, and the whole getting-thrown-into-the-dumpster-on-almost-a-daily-basis thing. But he tried not to think about that too much...besides, he couldn't remember that sticking in his mind during the game anyways.
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