Jaron Williams called time and made his way from behind the plate to the pitcher's mound. Williams overheard the opposing team talking about his pitcher, Aaron Reese.
"He's only pitching with one hand. What can he really do?"
Placing the ball in Reese's left hand, the catcher told him what he had heard. Reese didn't respond. He struck out 10 and walked away with a win.
The only words Williams had for the opposing team at the conclusion of the game was, "That's what my pitcher can do."
This happened a couple of years ago at a summer-league game, but Reese has spent his baseball life hearing variations of the same question – what can a pitcher with one fully-functional arm really do?
At Carver-Montgomery High School, that question has stopped being about limitation and started being about production. He's become a legitimate pitcher competing without adjustments from his coaching staff. What began as a curiosity to outsiders has become, for Aaron, simply baseball.
His junior season ended last month with a win in the area tournament. He struck out eight.
'What we do with two hands, he can do better with one'
Reese was born 13 pounds at birth. He got stuck in the birth canal because he was so big, doctors had to forcefully pull him out. When they did, it dislocated a nerve from his spinal cord, causing Erb's palsy.
"At that time, we didn't care. My baby was alive," Deirdre Reese told the Montgomery Advertiser.
Since then, Aaron has undergone several surgeries and been through therapy. Doctors say he will never have full use of his right arm.
That didn't keep him from developing a love for baseball.
He followed his brother, Kendall Reese, everywhere on a baseball field. Aaron's presence eventually promoted him to batboy. But batboy wasn't enough for Aaron. Sometimes, while sitting on Kendall's lap in the dugout, Aaron moved his hands in all sorts of directions around his torso and head — attempting to give signs to the team.
"He brought extra energy to the dugout," Kendall said.
Kendall knew it was time to get to work with Aaron. He couldn't waste a love for the game because of a nerve condition.
A patient brother and a painstaking process
It started with a tennis ball.
Kendall tossed Aaron a ball over and over in the field that surrounds their house in the country. At first, it wasn't about throwing or velocity, just learning how to secure the ball cleanly with his left hand. Then came the glove, and Kendall transitioned to another basic skill: getting the ball out the glove.
Aaron caught the ball in his glove, threw his glove down on the ground, picked up the ball that rolled out when it hit the ground and made the throw.
"When I first saw that, I was kind of shocked because I was like, his mind is actually working because I was thinking that he was going to try attempt to grab the ball with his other hand," Kendall said.
As surprised as he was, Kendall knew that transition wasn't going to cut it during a game.
Instead, Aaron learned to catch the ball in his glove, tuck it into his right armpit, collected the ball and make the throw.
It wasn't easy.
He would fumble with the glove and lose precious seconds getting the throw off. Kendall clocked him at 6 or 7 seconds to make a throw.
When Aaron first started pitching, he wouldn't put his glove on because he wanted get rid of the ball faster. In one game, he fielded a ball with his bare hand. His finger swelled up from taking the brunt force of the ball, forcing him to be pulled.
The frustration built. Sometimes, it was too much.
Tears in his eyes, Aaron wanted to give up. But the desire to play baseball burned too brightly.
Kendall decided to slow things down and make training baseball simple and fun with the introduction of the three-inning game. The game was a one-on-one showdown between Aaron and Kendall, with the objective of hitting the ball and making it all the way back to home before the other brother could tag the batter out.
As the big brother, Kendall wasn't going to show any mercy. But he started to notice that when he'd hit the ball at Aaron, he attempted to try and catch it. Over time, Aaron started to beat Kendall.
Kendall noticed Aaron smiling and laughing more. So, they started again.
This time, they worked on Aaron taking the glove on and off with the ball already inside. Soon, Kendall was timing his transfer to throw at 2 or 3 seconds.
"I could never make the switch as fast he could, even with two hands," Kendall said.
Fielding the ball, tucking the glove in the armpit and grabbing the ball now only takes Aaron 1.3 seconds. After two years of countless reps in the backyard and in the mirror, it's a seamless transition.
Now parents of opposing players seek Dierdre Reese out after games.
"They tell me that their players or sons can't give them any more excuses," Deirdre said. "They tell me that watching Aaron is an inspiration because it is a rarity to ever do what he does."
'I'm just a pitcher. Nothing else'
Aaron stands tall on the mound, his eyes focused on the catcher. He cradles his glove upright in his right arm with his left hand fiddling with the ball inside his glove to find the right fastball grip.
He kicks his right leg up, puffs his cheeks full of air, pulls his right arm into his chest like he's hugging his glove and rears his left arm towards home plate. As his left leg swings around to touch the ground in front of him, Aaron is sliding his left arm in his glove.
"I would put him up against anyone," Carver coach Quawon Baldwin said.
When Baldwin was coaching at Park Crossing and he'd face Aaron on the mound, he didn't ever see a pitcher with a disadvantage. He encouraged his players to give their maximum effort because that's what they were going to need to beat him.
Now that he is Aaron's coach, he doesn't give the lefty pitcher any special treatment.
During his junior season, Aaron's fastball was consistently clocking at 82 mph and could reach upwards to 87 when he was really feeling letting it fly.
"He wants to feel normal. So, with that being said, I push him as hard as the rest of the team," Baldwin said.
Said Aaron, "I love baseball, it's just something I've always done, and I'm in a mindset that I'm just a pitcher. Nothing else."
Aaron has two dreams, One large and one small.
The grander of the dreams is to be enshrined in the Major League Baseball Hall of Fame, but before he gets to that point, he needs to reach the smaller dream first.
That dream is of playing college baseball at the Division I level. It's a dream that is slowly unfolding with showcase invitations finding their way into his mailbox. Schools like Alabama, Vanderbilt, Mississippi State and Jacksonville State want to see Aaron on the mound for themselves.
There haven't been any formal offers extended, but when Baldwin takes his seniors on visits during the offseason, coaches make sure to check in on Aaron.
Aaron has heard the question for years. What can he really do?
At Carver, it's no longer a question that defines him. The answer has stopped being theoretical, it's become routine.
Jaeden Day covers high school sports, Alabama State football and Auburn recruiting for the Montgomery Advertiser/USA Today. You can find him on X at dayjaeden12, or reach him at JDay@montgome.gannett.com.
This article originally appeared on USA TODAY: Carver's Aaron Reese striking out batters despite having use of only one arm