weights. My parents allow me to build a mound in our backyard. I cement two beams 60 feet and six inches away, and hang a mattress between them. I pitch thousands of baseballs into the square I draw onto it. I can still hear the thud of a fastball hitting that thrift-store mattress. Spring of 1971 surpasses even my dreams. In my first six games, I throw two no-hitters, a one-hitter, a two-hitter, and two three-hitters. As a lefthander, I’m averaging a pickoff a game. I dream about setting up a hitter with a high, inside fastball and punching him out with a low and away curve that will buckle his knees. I’m copying what I’ve watched Koufax do all those years. One June morning, I’m reading the sports page and I turn to the feature article titled, “The Arizona All-State Baseball Team.” I search for my name…there it is: “John Lynch, left-handed pitcher. Washington High School.” Life feels about perfect this day. But when you’re dreaming a dream, you often don’t see past the moment of its realization. You see it happening and imagine all manner of stupendous good following it. But it doesn’t always work like that. Even dreams coming true often carry an ugly asterisk next to them. The Arizona All-State game in 1971 is played at the Cleveland Indians’ spring-training stadium. In the rows behind home plate are dozens of scouts with speed guns, monitoring everything in front of them. I pitch second for the North team and don’t allow a hit over my two innings. I’m hoping I’ve done enough for someone to draft me. After the game, a scout for the Giants finds me. “John, that was a mighty fine performance out there tonight. I’ve got to talk to some folks upstairs, but I think we’re going to take you in the draft next month.” I stood there frozen...with my dad, some friends, and a scout for the San Francisco Giants! It seemed too good to be true. It was... He ended with the words, “All right, John Pier- son, keep your nose clean. You’ll hear from us.” John Pierson? The scout had mistaken me for John Pierson, my teammate from Washington High, who had also played in this game. The John Pierson who was once a close friend. The John Pierson who had recently stolen away my girlfriend. That John Pierson. Ī WWW.AGRM.ORG MAY/JUNE 2017 41 Even dreams coming true often carry an ugly asterisk next to them.