Chapter 3.2

“Costly, huh?” Wade sipped his beer. The town didn’t have the money? Ideas stirred in his mind.

Down on the field, Tate’s team won the coin toss and lined up on the bench, presumably in batting order, while the opposing coach threw a couple of practice pitches.

Wade had money. More than he could spend in a lifetime even if he was trying to empty his coffers. Why should seven-and eight-year-olds do without?

Of course, nobody was saying that a machine was better than a coach.

That angle merited investigation. There had to be some benefit for the batter to see an intense pair of eyes staring back at him from the pitcher’s mound. Had to get used to that.

On the other hand, a nice, consistent pitch might help develop a batter’s skill.

Or not. What the hell did he know about it? He would wait and learn.

And ask.

The first kid up to bat swung hard and connected, but the ball fouled out.

“Do the teams want a pitching machine?”

“I’d have to say yeah. Ever since they played in that tournament a