Dean Nevarez is insistent.
“That was three,” he calls.
“Four,” replies catching coordinator Tony Arnerich, calmly loading a ball into the pitching machine for the next batter.
“Three,” insists Nevarez, holding up three cigar-sized fingers. His tone is playful but persistent. Finally stepping out of the cage, he seeks out the hitting coach leaning on the batting turtle and begins pleading his case in rapid-fire Spanish. The coach laughs, shooing him away, but a few batters later, Nevarez is back in the cage, this time trying to wheedle an extra pitch out of Arnerich. “Come on, that one was outside, give me a good one,” he entreats.