“What are you thinking about?”
“I was thinking about how we came up with the idea of setting a bat on fire. Looking back, it was so dangerous.”
“I’m afraid to ask.”
“Nobody in their right mind lights a piece of wood on fire when you play on a grass field. There were so many things that could’ve gone wrong.”
“Oh, I see what you mean. When you put it that way, I’m surprised your manager let you get away with it.”
“He was always more invested in the performance aspect of the game than safety.” He chuckled. “Our manager used to say, ‘The bigger the trick, the better.’ We operated on the mantra that it’s easier to ask for forgiveness after the fact.”
“Oh no.”
“Are you okay with eating catering from the truck the team ordered? It’s burgers and fries from BBQ Shack.”
“Sounds brilliant.” The intoxicating scent of barbecue was making her mouth water. They joined a short line of people queuing in front of a delivery truck parked on the edge of the warning track in the outfield. “So?.?.?. howdidyou come up with the idea for the flaming bat?”
“Brett and I were in Vegas for one of our buddy’s birthdays. I don’t remember if it was day or night, but we were walking down the strip from a casino back to our hotel when we saw a street baton twirler light their batons on fire. I’d seen it on TV before, but when it’s in person, it’s even more impressive.”
Gemma nodded.
“That image stuck with me for a couple weeks. I wondered in the back of my mind if there was a way we could do something like that on the baseball field.”
“How exactly do you get the fire effect on the bat? Is it hollow, with some type of candle or mechanism on the inside?”
“No. Nothing that fancy.”
“The suspense is killing me.”
“Now remember, we were dumb, just-out-of-college kids.”
“Okay,” she said slowly.
“What we did was?.?.?. uh?.?.?.” Tim made a sheepish face. “Dump kerosene on the bat and let it go.”
Her eyes widened. “You what?”
“We soaked the bat in lighter fluid and lit it up to see what would happen. We thought the bat would stay lit for a few seconds. I never imagined I’d get an at bat out of it, but we did and it became my thing because none of the other guys were stupid enough to try it.”
“Wow,” she said. “I hope you at least wore fireproof gloves and had a fire extinguisher nearby.”
“Yes to both of those.”
They advanced up to the window and each ordered a burger and a side of chips. As they collected their food, Tim ran into a few more former players and introduced Gemma to more of his enormous extended Sloth family.
As they enjoyed their lunch inside the clubhouse, Gemma joked, “I wish everybody had name tags. It would be easier for me to keep them straight. So I’ve met Joe, Brett, Jorge, Casey, Dirk, Felipe, Greg, Will, Alex, and?.?.?.” She wrinkled her nose, not quite able to put her finger on the last face.
“Al,” Tim added.
She face-palmed. “Al. How could I forget Big Al? He’s a literal giant.”
Big Al was the player who had first pioneered the use of stilts on the Sloths by pitching in them.
“Don’t worry, you’re doing great. I’m impressed you’ve managed to remember all those people.” Tim tucked all his rubbish onto his tray. “Are you all done?”
“Oh, um, yes.”
“Perfect, I’ll take those.”
