The time had finally come, the start of the Dizzy Dean State of Louisiana 13-14 Age Group Tournament.

We were ready.

We had it all: the coaching, the confidence, the players, the pitching, the hitting, the base running, the defense, and most of all, the best fans in the entire state. When we hit the diamond, it “showed” from the dust and roared from the stands. We dominated that first round and earned our shot at the championship tournament in Avondale, Louisiana, playing for the right to represent our state once again at the Dizzy Dean World Series age group 13-14.

We came out hot, and stayed hot.
Saying we were confident doesn’t even do it justice. We had been through so many games, so many battles together, that it was almost unfair for any team standing across from us. We played like pros but still had the time of our lives doing it.

One memory stands out.
We had a night game in Avondale and were winning big. On defense, the batter popped up a routine fly ball to right field. My teammate, Richard “Tricky Dick” Martin, jogged under it, like always, patting his leg twice with his glove before making the catch.

1st pat.
2nd pat.

Then out of nowhere, a scream and a missed catch!

We all cracked up. After getting the ball back to the mound, we asked him, laughing and fussing at the same time, “Trick, what happened?!”

“Man, a mosquito bit me!”

We were rolling, on the ground, in the middle of the game, laughing like crazy.
And to this day, I still wonder if that mosquito was related to the one that got Terry during the steal sign mix-up years ago. LOL

But then, the fun turned serious.

We needed just one more win to clinch the Dizzy Dean Louisiana State Title and punch our ticket to the World Series.
That’s when we ran into the Kenner Green squad, the only team that had given us a real fight all season.

We lost the first matchup against them in a tight, low-scoring game.
Honestly, I don’t think we took them seriously enough. Lesson learned, fast.

In the second game against Kenner Green, the pressure was thick. I remember crushing one deep over the left field fence into the trees early on, FOUL BALL the umpire said.  A few pitches later striking out looking, furious with myself because I knew I could hit their pitcher.

It all came down to the final inning:

Tied game.

My cousin Terreke Grover on first base.

I was up to bat.

First pitch… CKINK!!!

I hit lined a shot right down the third-base line into the outfield!

As I rounded first heading toward second, I locked eyes on Terreke tearing around third base, racing home.

The throw came in.
He slid.
He scored!

SAFE! SAFE! SAFE!

WE WON!

Our dugout exploded.
Our fans went absolutely crazy.
It was like a scene straight out of a movie, and I had the game-winning hit.
(And if memory serves, Ms. Debra Anderson even fell out of the bleachers in all the excitement!)

Because it was a double elimination, and we had now each won one game, there was a final third game to decide it all.

It wasn’t even close.

We crushed them with the 10-run rule. Game over.

Those young Black boys from LaPlace, Reserve, Garyville, and Edgard had done it again.
We were headed back to the World Series!

Our families, friends, and new fans roared with pride, passion, and love.
That kind of experience doesn’t happen to everyone, and it’s something I will never forget for the rest of my life.

Up Next (Episode 16):

We’re heading back to the World Series — but this time it’s personal. We’re coming for unfinished business. Pensacola, Florida, here we come!