With the evaluations of more than one hundred prospective professional baseball players finally done, and the sun having sunk beneath the horizon, I retired to my container house. The System soon shone in front of me with a message demanding I ‘upload’ the results of the try outs.

All of the results from every individual drill were saved within my visual drive. When I spoke the word: “upload”, text typed at lightning speed, top to bottom. Names, numbers. I grew dizzy in a hurry. Thankfully, this lasted less than a minute.

Then I’d received the following:

[HUMAN:

Assessment results received.

The following comprises your team’s 40 man roster:]

“Wait a minute,” I said, speaking to the invisible entity, wherever it was, “I thought I was choosing the team roster.”

The System didn’t respond, and continued spitting text.

[(You must read this aloud to all candidates):]

Oh.

Great.

This was the part I was dreading because it meant telling people they hadn’t made the team. They weren’t going to earn gold playing baseball. They weren’t going to feed their families, improve their homes, and likely their whole lives while representing their village in battle against rivals. Worst part of the job.

The following morning, I’d rolled off a wolf pelt after a fitful sleep, and delegated the task of gathering everyone back to the ball park to Trevor, Dillard, and Denton. It took a few hours, but eventually the three of them came through.

By the time the sun reached its highest, there must’ve been two hundred souls gathered when you included relatives of those who’d tried out. The park was alive, and I was ridiculously nervous.

Without a stage to stand on, I chose the pitcher’s mound. Proctor had all of the prospects, and also the guys already known to be on the team gather in front of the mound. Nearly everyone sat on the infield grass, or knelt in the dirt. A few stragglers stood at the rear of the group. Meanwhile, family members of those gathered watched from the bleachers.

Proctor gave me a nod, and I did my best to project my voice. The constant and cold breeze did its best to make my task more difficult.

“Can everyone hear me?” I said, loudly, clearly.

A lot of nods from those assembled.

“Aye,” said a few.

“Alright,” I said.

The System’s text filling my view made it a bit easier to avoid direct eye contact with anyone sat in front of me. But, it also made it tougher to concentrate in saying anything other than what was dominating my vision.

“Please know, we appreciate all of you who came here to the park to try out for the Moonlight Magic,” I said. “You gave your time, and put your body on the line, and I am grateful.”

I began clapping in hopes everyone there would join in.

It didn’t happen.

Awkward.

A tinge of sweat formed on my brow, in spite of the bitter wind.

“Right, let’s get to it,” I said. “Just know that if your name is not called, it’s not personal. We value you as a person, and there’s no saying you couldn’t play for the team at some time down the road. But, for now I can only choose forty people for the team roster.”

“Get on with it,” Gak said.

His comment drew a few growls of agreement.

“Before I name anyone, however,” I said, “I want to point out, the System has chosen these names.”

“Sure, sure,” Dillard said, and he giggled.

“I assure you it’s true,” I said. “The System has picked forty players, and using our evaluation drills, it has selected the positions everyone is to play. I am learning this at the same time as you. I have no advanced knowledge here.”

Then I saw Proctor roll his hands over one another. Even he was growing impatient.

“Alright, here goes…”

I made sure the text in my eyes was scrolled to the top, so I wouldn’t miss anything.

“Of the team’s forty man roster, twenty will be pitchers. Of those twenty pitchers, eight of them will be labeled as starting pitchers,” I said. “When I call your name, please stand, and move to a standing position along the base line between first and second base, and if we run out of room, we’ll line up between second and third as well. Good?”

The group stared at me intensely. I could feel all of their glares boring a hole through me.

“Here then, are the Moonlight Magic’s eight starting pitchers:

Proctor Smythe…”

Dillard decided to clap, and when he did, the rest of the group clapped with him. The audience in the stands caught on, and also began clapping. There was a power to it, and it lent the proceedings serious gravity.

To be honest, I was surprised Proctor had been designated as a starting pitcher. But, this was the System’s decision, and the only thing I could think was it had to be due to his left handedness.

Proctor seemed happy about it, and he smiled and bowed to the audience’s warm reception. He jogged to first base, and stood adjacent to it with his hands clasped behind him.

“Torag Gill,” I said, speaking the name next on the list of starting pitchers.

He wasn’t great in the evaluations, but he was also left handed, so yeah that had to be the System’s reasoning.

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Torag jogged over, and stood next to Proctor.

“Landyn Barnette…

Auden Hale

Alfie Alvin

Dalen Edwardstone

Allis Derry…

and, lastly for starting pitching, Wyer Denman.”

A few gaps were noticeable from the crowd sitting in front of me. Our eight starting pitchers beamed with pride standing shoulder to shoulder between first and second.

“Next up, relief pitchers. Of our forty man roster, there will be twelve relievers. Again, when I say your name, please take your place over there,” I said, pointing. “First up, Adam Bridger.”

There was a quick burst of applause, which then stopped abruptly when people clued in at about the same moment I did.

“Right,” I said with a laugh. “That’s me.”

Relief pitching? My pitching evaluation had gone terribly, I thought. What was the System thinking?

“I won’t bother lining up over there,” I said. “But, just for everyone’s information, I’m on the roster as a reliever. Alright, moving on.”

The list scrolled upward in front of me.

“Ulrich Farrowhill…”

Now this pick made more sense. Ulrich had proven himself to be a formidable pitcher. Honestly, I’d expected him to be chosen as a starter, but maybe his age worked against him.

“Bern Kinley…

Leonard Weaves

Aston Bale

Grinth Done

Smith Reeve

Emerson Iler

Wynn Willowby

Dyer Thickenburg

Stuart Manetten

and, Monty Holt.”

Scrolling past those names, I could see the outfielders came next.

“Alright, let’s hear it for the Moonlight Magic’s pitching staff,” I said, and I started clapping. This time everyone else joined in… phew.

“Next up, it’s the outfielders. We’ll be carrying two center fielders on the forty man roster,” I said. “Our center fielders are, Stanley Axel, and Harold Grey.”

“Moving over to left field,” I said, continuing to read the System’s message, “we will have two players specializing in this position. Please welcome, Denton Carkner, and Woodrow Irvine.”

“Same thing in right field,” I said. “Two of these players as well on our roster. And, our right fielders are, Gak Bar, and Jux Quallon.”

I choked on my spit a little saying Jux Quallon’s name.

“Additionally,” I said. “We’ll have one utility outfielder. This person will play in any of the three outfielding positions based on organizational need. This person is, Cedric Harlane.”

“This brings us to the infielders,” I said. “We’ll start with the bat catchers. Of our forty man roster, we will have four catchers. Our catchers are:

Jeremiah Quallon…

Wulf Stanston

Ead Yellow

and, Oswald Chester. Congratulations.”

The line up of players had reached second base. The crowd in front of me grew more sparse as I called out names. A bunch of nervous faces glanced about one another as the men waited to hear their name’s called. My stomach churned, I wanted everyone to make the team, but it just wasn’t reality.

“Next up is first base,” I said. “We’ll have one player specifically designated as a first baseman. That player will be, Dillard Coal.”

The goofball himself chuckled upon hearing his name, and he waved to the folks in the bleachers while he walked to second base to take his place in line.

“Now for second base,” I said. “We’re welcoming two second baseman to the team. And, here they are:

Jorn Quallon…

Kimball East.”

In the back of my mind, each time I read a Quallon’s name, I thought about how I could go about getting them off the team roster. The System might make it impossible. I held out hope there’d be a way.

“Same thing for third base,” I said. “Our two third baseman are, Barnard Wastewell, and Edward Kin.”

Only four roster spots were left, and there were still an uncomfortable number of prospects seated before me. If I could’ve retreated into a cavern somewhere, and left this last bit to someone else, I would have.

“Shortstop is next,” I said. “Hugely important position. There’ll be two players at this position on our roster. Please welcome our shortstops:

Reilly Blackburn, and

Beckett Akin…

Congratulations, Reilly, and Beckett.”

Both men breathed out loudly, clearly relieved to hear their names called near the end of this whole process. They shook one another’s hands as they walked to the rest of the guys lined up between second and third. How appropriate they were standing near the position they’d be playing.

“Last, but not least,” I said. “We’ll have two utility infielders. Same thing as with the outfielders, these two players will be tasked with playing positions all around the infield as per the needs of the team. They may even be specifically designated to one infield position at some point, depending on various factors.”

I paused before announcing the final two names. My teeth came together, and I grimaced.

“Please know,” I said. “If you don’t hear your name, again, I appreciate the time you took in trying out for the team. I’m thankful for your families as well. Safe travels on your way back to the village. For everyone else on the team, please stay after the end. Again, thank you.”

The silence of the crowd unnerved me as they waited for the final two names.

“Right, here then are the names of our two utility infielders:

Eldric Hinn…

and, Clifford Summers.

Congratulations guys, well done. Again, thank you to everyone for coming out. We hope to see you at the ball park soon for the start of our season, or… well, the beginning of the tournament the System’s planned for us.”

Most of those seated in the grass rose to their feet, found their relatives in the stands, and wandered off. I wasn’t sure if I should’ve approached each, and spoken to them. Thinking about it in retrospect, that likely would’ve been the classy approach… professional. That’s not what I did.

I’m socially awkward at the best of times. It didn’t help I could see some angry faces over in the stands behind the home dugout. There were even a few men and women pointing at me.

I was on high alert someone might charge at me, Quallon style. Luckily, this time around I had enough allies who’d help out if it came to that. Maybe. Trust wasn’t a strong suit of mine either.

In the end, there was one man lingering near home plate. A guy who’s name escaped me, but I know he wasn’t among those whom I’d called.

The forty guys on the team stayed relatively close to where they stood after hearing their names. They chatted amongst themselves as the ball park emptied of villagers save for this one strange looking man near the plate.

I took a step off the mound toward home, and made eye contact with this guy who was staring intently back at me. If I could describe his facial expression in two words, I’d say: pure disdain.

“Yes?” I said, calling out to the man about forty feet from me.

He shrugged, and then his eyes darted away.

“Was there something you wanted?” I said. And, I admit, the tone of my voice was a bit cold, but the look of this guy… it was… off.

“You,” he said, his voice a low growl. “So much power, eh?”

I’d noticed some of the men’s chatter behind me had quieted.

“What do you mean?” I said to the ugly man at home plate.

“You think you know best,” the man said. “I will show you.”

A chill ran through me. Goosebumps raised on my forearms. Here we go, I thought.

You have numbers, I told myself. Don’t back down from this guy. There was also the fact I’d magically gamed my body into pretty much superhuman strength.

“You’ll show me… what, exactly?” I said.

He bared his teeth, what few of them he had. Then he pointed a bony finger at me.

“Watch your back,” he said. “You will walk in the village. You better watch your back.”

Then he paused, hung his head low, shaking it back and forth for a moment.

“Sorry you didn’t make the team,” I said. “But, you need to leave.”

“No,” the man said.

“Yes,” I said, and I noted all of the talking behind me had ceased. “You need to leave, now.”

We stared one another down for a good ten or fifteen seconds. Then the man began walking directly toward me.