With another blazing heater deposited squarely in the catcher's mitt and the booming strike three call from the umpire echoing through the largely empty local baseball field, my team had just won another game. But not just any game, no. Indeed, the Cicero Catboys had just won the playoff finals of the rec league they're playing in, after an unprecedented run of success where this team absolutely demolished every opponent it faced off with. Not that they made it look easy, mind. I took this team over about midway through the season, after it had already had three different coaches which all left very quickly afterwards, citing the team's players being impossible to work with. And, well, they are right in a way. This team is... difficult.
As the name might imply, somehow, this team consists entirely of catboys. I had no idea these people even existed, but sure enough, here they are, twelve grown men sporting cat ears and cat tails, playing baseball. And well, they have some of the characteristics of a cat as well, including being rather moody and begging for attention, which makes them rather high-maintenance. Indeed, one of my friends, who was the third coach this team had this season, practically begged me to take over, saying that only someone with professional level experience could whip this team into shape. Being a former minor league player with at least some experience in the professional baseball system, I suppose he figured I was the best bet.
In the end, it turns out he was right. These catboys are somehow the most incompetent players I have ever seen. Like, you'll have them running the bases, and they'll trip and fall flat on their face on their way to first base. You'll have them doing catching drills in the outfield, and they'll have the ball land on their head, which leads to them melodramatically whining until they get pets to calm them down. That sort of thing. But at the same time, these guys are the most insane talents I've ever seen. The pitcher is an absolute fireballer, throwing his pitches with speeds unheard of for an amateur. The batters, despite being unable to actually look at the pitches as they are thrown, somehow manage to swing, hit the ball, and knock it out of the park. And despite being clumsy in parts, the fielders also display incredible speed and, fittingly enough, cat-like reflexes, leading to them making insane plays that even professionals would marvel at.
All these guys needed is someone to give them a bit of discipline. Nothing rough, just making sure they know who's in charge, and making sure to reward them when they do well. You wouldn't believe how pliable these catboys become when you pet them and scritch them behind their ears. And sure enough, once they had a little bit of, y'know, actual training, they turn into world-beaters, cutting a swathe through the entire league, making the playoffs, and now winning them. Before I even know it, I'm raised up on the shoulders of the players as they parade me around the field, chanting to celebrate their victory as the opposing team sulks off. They seem so happy, and I'm happy too. Honestly, I'd forgotten just how good it feels to, y'know, win.
But this big victory means that something is in order... rewards. The players carry me off to the locker rooms, where they eventually set me down on a bench, all standing in front of me, shyly awaiting their praise and rewards from their coach. "Alright, guys, you all did a great job here today. You played your hearts out, and you've won the ultimate prize this league has to offer. You showed them all that the Cicero Catboys are not a team to be trifled with!" I tell them, all their cat ears flitting eagerly as they listen to me.
One by one, each of them pull off their baseball caps, kneeling down in front of me. It's very clear what they want, but I've made them learn that if they want something from me, they have to ask for it. And so, eventually, the captain speaks up, blushing and incapable of keeping eye contact with me, "Um... coach... can we get our pets now? I think we've earned them, and we're all so eager for them..."
Looking around at the other players, it's clear they're all so desperate. They want to be petted so bad, they want their belly rubs, they want their cuddles, and eventually they'll want a whole bunch of naughty stuff, I'm sure of it. So I give the captain a nod. "Yes, you've earned them." And the moment I give the word, I now have twelve catboy baseball players all huddling up close to me, all vying for my attention. God, I don't know where to start, they're all so cute.