[AZTarHeel]

Andrew Zarzour slept like a baby on the eve of his first Major League start, but he woke up with jolt in the morning, his adrenalin already pumping.

He called his old high school coach after breakfast only to discover that news had long reached the Bunn community. Signs were already up in front of the school: "Good luck Andrew Zarzour" and Wildcat players were making plans to watch the game on TV at their coach's house that night (the coach had one of those satellite packages that allows you to watch every game all season long).

Yes, the first pitch wasn't scheduled to be thrown until 10:05 EST -- on a school night. But no one in Bunn seemed to mind.

Andrew's mom of course was in LA being the faithful mother/groupie. But it didn't look like Andrew's dad was going to be able to make it. Hurricane Floyd had torn through North Carolina a week earlier, dumping upwards of a foot of rain (or more) in and around Franklin County. The Zarzour's farm wasn't devastated or anything, but there were some serious losses and concerns.

The elder Zarzour just had too much on his plate trying to clean up and assess the damage. Andrew was disappointed but he understood — and admired his dad for how hard over the years he had worked to run a good business and treat his workers well.

Zarzour was just glad to get to the ballpark that afternoon. He felt great during warm-ups, his pitches gliding out of his hands with seeming ease to the bullpen catcher. He was hitting all his spots well. His slider had plenty of bite. The few weeks off from game action had done him a world of good, enabling his arm to heal up from the long summer. He had been faithful to keep throwing on the side on prescribed days and kept up his running and conditioning routines.

"Now remember what we agreed on," catcher Mike Piazza said. "We're going to go right at these guys, alright? They haven't seen you before and they're expecting you to be a nervous kid. But from the first pitch on, we mean business.

"I'd like you to throw a couple crazy pitches during warm-ups, maybe even send one or two to the backstop, just to throw off these guys and get your nerves out. But then on your first pitch to Gonzo, we're coming right down the middle with your fastball. Hit 100 mph if you can. Got it?"

Zarzour nodded, excited. He felt great. His arm felt great. He trusted his catcher. If he got knocked around, then he got knocked around. It wasn't from a lack of confidence or preparation.

"Let's do it," he said.

Sure enough, on his fourth warm-up pitch, Zarzour rared back and sent one about three feet over Piazza's head. On purpose. He pretended to look disillusioned about the throw getting away. Piazza feigned worry. A few pitches later, Zarzour bounced one about four feet short of the plate that careened way off to the right. Again on purpose.

"Oh boy, this could be a long night," Piazza said, knowing that Cubs' lead-off man Andrew Gonzalez was within ear shot. Then he winked at Zarzour.

The next pitch would be for real. It was show time from 18-year-old Andrew Zarzour.

Batter up.