Chapter 4: The First Evaluation
The next morning, Rafael arrived at the field before most of the players. The sun had barely climbed above the buildings, and the school grounds were still quiet. Daniel Cruz was already waiting near the infield with a clipboard in one hand and a bucket of baseballs beside him.
"You came early," Daniel said.
"You told me not to be late."
Daniel glanced at his watch. "Most teenagers hear that as a suggestion."
Rafael smiled. Alex was beginning to understand why Daniel had managed to coach teenagers for so long. The man didn’t waste words, and he didn’t seem interested in making Rafael feel special because of yesterday’s batting practice.
That was good.
Alex didn’t want special treatment. He wanted a test.
Daniel pointed toward the running line marked along the field. "We’ll start with speed. Twenty meters. Two attempts."
Rafael took his position. Alex looked down at his legs. They were healthy, but they weren’t his old legs, and that was something he had already accepted.
When Daniel gave the signal, Rafael pushed off hard. His first step was quick, and his coordination was better than Alex expected, probably because of the basketball background Rafael had built over the years. But there was nothing extraordinary about the speed.
Daniel checked his stopwatch. "Again."
The second attempt was slightly faster, and Daniel wrote something on his clipboard.
"Decent."
Alex nodded. That word was going to follow him for a while.
In his old body, Alex could turn a routine single into a double because of his instincts and athleticism. He had stolen bases against some of the best catchers in baseball. This body couldn’t do that yet, but it wasn’t a problem. Speed could improve, strength could improve, and throwing could improve. What mattered more was whether the mind inside this body could still play the game.
Daniel moved to the next test.
"Throwing."
Rafael took the ball and waited while Daniel moved farther away. "Throw it as hard as you can."
Alex rolled the ball once in his palm before throwing.
The ball traveled straight, but the velocity wasn’t impressive. Daniel caught it without moving.
"Again."
Rafael threw harder. Better, but still ordinary.
Daniel watched the motion carefully. "Your arm isn’t trained."
"No."
"Did you ever play baseball before?"
"Only casually."
Daniel frowned and wrote something down.
Alex wasn’t bothered. He already knew the answer. Rafael’s arm had never been developed for baseball, so there was no reason it should suddenly behave like a professional’s.
The strange part was that Alex could feel exactly what needed to change. His release was slightly late, his lower body wasn’t contributing enough, and his shoulder wasn’t transferring energy efficiently. The mechanics needed work, and Alex knew how to fix them. He simply couldn’t turn years of physical development into results overnight.
Daniel moved on.
"Fielding."
A ball rolled across the dirt.
Rafael moved toward it. His first step was slightly late, but he adjusted and got in front of it. The glove work was rough, and the ball nearly bounced away before he secured it.
Daniel nodded. "Again."
The next grounder came harder. This time Rafael moved earlier, caught it cleanly, and threw toward first.
The throw was low.
Daniel caught it anyway.
Another ball came, followed by another. Alex’s movements slowly became more natural, not because Rafael’s body had suddenly become better, but because Alex was learning its limits. He adjusted his positioning before each hit, shifted his weight earlier, and stopped trying to move like his old body. Instead, he began playing according to what this body could actually do.
Daniel noticed.
The coach stopped hitting grounders. "Why did you move before I hit that one?"
Alex looked at him. "Your shoulders."
Daniel raised an eyebrow. "What about them?"
"You opened them before contact."
Daniel stared at him.
Alex realized he had said too much and shrugged. "You looked like you were pulling the ball."
Daniel didn’t respond immediately. He picked up another ball and deliberately changed his swing.
The ball went toward the opposite side.
Rafael moved there anyway and caught it.
Daniel’s expression changed. It wasn’t much, just a slight tightening around the eyes, but Alex noticed. The coach had started paying attention.
Good.
The next test was reaction speed.
Daniel stood near home plate with a bucket of baseballs. "Watch the ball."
Rafael nodded.
Daniel tossed one toward him without warning.
Rafael caught it.
Another came.
Caught.
Daniel changed the angle, and Rafael moved slightly left before securing it. The pace increased as the balls came from different directions, forcing him to react rather than simply predict.
But prediction was exactly what Alex had spent his career doing.
He wasn’t simply watching the ball. He was reading Daniel’s shoulder angle, hand position, body weight, and release point. The smallest changes told Alex where the ball was going before it reached him.
He caught another ball.
Then another.
Daniel stopped.
"Have you done this before?"
"No."
Daniel looked at him for a long moment. "You’re lying."
Alex almost laughed. "I’m not."
The coach picked up another ball. "Then explain it."
Alex thought for a moment. "I watch the movement before the ball comes out."
Daniel frowned. "Most players don’t see that quickly."
Alex shrugged. "I guess I do."
Daniel didn’t look convinced, but he continued the test.
Then came batting.
This was the part Alex had been waiting for.
Daniel placed several balls on a stand. "Show me your normal swing."
Alex stepped into the box and adjusted his feet. The stance wasn’t perfect. Rafael’s body didn’t have the same balance as Alex’s old one, but it was workable.
Daniel nodded toward the first pitch.
Alex swung.
CRACK!
The ball screamed toward right field.
Daniel watched it disappear beyond the fence without reacting. He simply picked up another ball.
"Again."
Alex swung again, sending another deep drive toward center. The next went toward left, then right, then center. He wasn’t trying to hit home runs. He was testing control, and that mattered more.
Daniel finally stepped into the cage.
"Enough."
Alex lowered the bat.
Daniel looked at him. "You said you’ve barely played baseball."
"I have."
"Then how do you know where to hit the ball?"
Alex paused. There were a hundred answers he couldn’t give because he’d spent twenty seasons studying pitchers, faced thousands of professional at-bats, and learned how a hitter should move before the pitch was even released.
Instead, he gave the only answer that sounded remotely believable.
"I just understand the game."
Daniel stared at him. "That’s not an explanation."
"It’s the truth."
The coach shook his head. "Fine. But let’s see if you understand pitching."
Alex smiled.
"Okay."
Daniel moved to the mound.
He didn’t tell Rafael what he was throwing.
That was exactly what Alex wanted.
The first pitch came.
Fastball.
Alex watched it without swinging.
"Strike," Daniel said.
The second pitch was outside.
Ball.
The third pitch came low.
Changeup.
Alex let it go.
"Ball."
Daniel looked at him. "How did you know?"
Alex shrugged. "It looked slower."
Daniel frowned before throwing again.
Slider.
Alex recognized it immediately but didn’t swing.
"Strike."
Another pitch came.
Curveball.
Alex recognized the rotation instantly. He waited until the right moment, then drove it into the opposite-field gap.
CRACK!
The ball rolled all the way toward the fence.
Daniel didn’t speak. He picked up another baseball.
This time, he changed the sequence.
Fastball inside.
Slider away.
Changeup low.
Curveball outside.
Alex barely moved. He only swung at one pitch.
The slider.
He sent it hard toward left.
Daniel stopped.
For several seconds, he simply stared at Rafael before walking toward him.
"Who taught you?"
Alex held the bat loosely. "Nobody."
Daniel’s eyes narrowed.
"Nobody?"
"Nobody."
The coach looked toward the field, then back at Rafael.
"You read every pitch."
Alex didn’t answer.
"You don’t chase."
Still nothing.
"You aren’t just swinging hard. You’re choosing where to hit."
Alex finally nodded.
Daniel took a slow breath. "That’s not normal."
Alex smiled faintly. "I’ve been told that before."
Daniel looked at him sharply.
"What?"
Alex realized his mistake. "Nothing."
The coach shook his head. "You’re strange, Rafael."
Alex couldn’t argue with that.
The evaluation ended shortly after. Daniel wrote several notes on his clipboard while Rafael stood nearby.
Speed: average.
Throwing: weak.
Fielding: raw.
Conditioning: below average.
Reaction: excellent.
Plate discipline: exceptional.
Pitch recognition: exceptional.
Hitting ability: extraordinary.
Daniel closed the clipboard.
"You’re not ready for everything."
Alex nodded. That was fair.
"But you’re making the team."
Alex looked at him. "Really?"
Daniel gave him a tired look. "Don’t make me repeat myself."
A smile appeared on Alex’s face. "Thank you, Coach."
"Don’t thank me yet." Daniel pointed toward the field. "You’re going to have to prove it against players who actually know what they’re doing."
Alex glanced across the field.
"Good."
Daniel studied him. "You look happy."
"I am."
"For what?"
Alex looked down at the baseball in his hand.
"For getting another chance."
Daniel didn’t understand the answer, and Alex wasn’t about to explain it.
"Be here tomorrow."
"I will."
Rafael started walking away. He had almost reached the fence when a familiar voice called his name.
"Rafa."
He turned.
Mia was standing there with a small bottle of water in her hand.
"You forgot this."
Alex looked at it. "I didn’t bring one."
"Exactly."
He accepted the bottle.
"Thanks."
Mia smiled. "I watched the whole thing."
Alex raised an eyebrow. "How much?"
"Enough."
"That’s not an answer."
She laughed. "You were amazing."
Alex looked away. That strange reaction returned, his heart speeding up and his face growing warmer.
This wasn’t him.
At least, not entirely.
Mia noticed his expression.
"Are you okay?"
Alex sighed. "Yeah."
She smiled.
"You keep saying that."
He looked at her and, despite himself, smiled too.
"Maybe I need a new answer."
Mia laughed softly. "Maybe."
They started walking toward the school building together.
Alex glanced back at the baseball field one last time. Yesterday, he had only wanted to know whether baseball could still belong to him. Today, he had his answer.
The game was still inside him.
And now that he had a body capable of playing it again, Alex Sterling had no intention of staying ordinary for long.