His team only had two home games left and then the season would be over. It was wild how fast time was passing, yet Javi didn’t think he’d ever felt so settled. In less than six months’ time, he’d moved across the country, entered a committed relationship, and unexpectedly became a guardian to a now teenager. His life had become tremendously enriched in a short time and he knew it was only going to get better. Next week he’d be scheduling his final defense, hopefully submitting not long after, and then, in late December he’d be graduating. All the years of hard work were finally paying off.
Javier had never experienced a stadium as electric as Chase Field was tonight. He swore the air was crackling and the crowd was roaring in anticipation of Cal’s next pitch. The dude was on fire, and if he could maintain that fire for two more pitches, he’d have a no-hitter. Javi couldn’t be happier for him.
Cal wound up his next pitch, and the grin stretching across his face looked maniacal to Javi. The guy from the other team at the plate wasn’t known for his batting ability. He had to be shaking in his cleats.
This was the last game of the season, and Callahan Gallegos was about to take this team out with a memorable win. Tonight would be a great achievement for his friend, and Javi was proud to be part of it.
The seconds between pitches seemed palpable and drawn out. Javi resumed his position and signaled for the pitch. Cal released the next sinker, and it found Javi’s mitt with a smack.
“Strike!” called the ump, and the stadium erupted. Shouts, cheers, flashing lights, music blaring from the sound system. It was deafening and exhilarating.
He caught Cal’s eye and threw the ball back before using the PitchCom to signal for a repeat of Cal’s fastball for the final pitch. Cal shook his head in disagreement. He rarely ever disagreed when Javi recommended a pitch. Javi used the PitchCom to request a curveball, and Cal shook his head again. Those were Cal’s go-to pitches. Something was wrong. Javi called time to approach the plate, and he watched Cal motion to the coach that all was well.
He pulled off his face mask and met Cal at the edge of the mound. “Don’t freeze on me now, El Conquistador,” he joked. Ever since he’d learned Cal’s nickname that had been following the guy since high school, he’d made a habit of dropping it. The guy was the actual descendant of a Spanish conquistador, which meant Cami was, too. That was freaking cool. Javi wasn’t aware of anyone noteworthy in his own ancestry.
Cal exhaled roughly. “I’m not, man, but I need to throw something gentler on my arm.”
Worry immediately struck Javi’s gut. “Dios mio!Are you hurt?”
Cal looked away towards the stands then responded without making eye contact. “Nah, bro. But my arm is tired. I don’t think I can throw another.”
Javi narrowed his eyes with suspicion. He was almost certain Cal was lying to him, so he decided to push. “You only need this pitch to end it, and you don’t think you can throw another fastball?”
Cal finally met Javi’s gaze and his eyes were pleading. “I may never get another chance like this. And you know Williams won’t be able to hit anything I throw. I think I’d rather end this night blowing everybody’s mind.”
That wasn’t an answer. Rather, a very clear deflection. Not distracted by Cal’s shade on Williams, Javi said, “Hermano, you’re already doing that.”
Cal nodded. “I know, but what do you think if I throw a knuckleball? Like the ones we goof off in practice with.”
Javi was thrown. Cal was seriously asking to throw an unpredictable pitch with a no-hitter on the line. “Nobody will see that coming, but you’re not freaking Phil Niekro, and you’re already tired. You know how hard knuckles are to control. That’s why nobody throws them anymore.”
Cal nodded. “Let’s do it, man. Let’s strike out Williams and end this season with something the syndicates can talk about. Let’s win this thing!”
Javi knew their manager and the pitching coach were going to kill him if he agreed to Cal’s pitch, but he also knew a knuckleball would cause a buzz. He might not be pitching, but it would still keep his name in the news, too, if Cal pulled off a no-hitter, and good publicity would increase his chances of the team keeping him. After mulling over the decision for a moment, he agreed. “Let’s go then. Let’s put Williams out of his misery.”
As Javi jogged back to home, he could see Callahan’s family in the stands. His grandparents, parents, and some friends he’d introduced to Javi. But the person who held Javi’s attention was Cal’s sister who had his little cousin seated right beside her. He caught Cami’s eye and winked. She blew him a kiss in return and he pretended to reach up and catch it. He was mad about that woman.
He put his mask back on before settling behind the plate. Then he prayed this pitch went as well as it did for them in practice. If by some off chance Williams got a hit, his chances at staying on for next season were shot. It wouldn’t matter how well he’d played up until now. All the GM and front office would remember was how he’d gone along with Cal tossing out a reckless pitch in a high stakes moment.
The next few moments were racked with anticipation. The whole stadium went eerily quiet as Williams stepped into thebox and took position. Cal nodded at Javi, wound up, and released. Javi swore the ball floated towards him in slow motion, like how some people describe a near-death experience. Those short moments stretched ’til he heard thewhooshof Williams’ bat, but it was too early, and the ball collided with Javi’s glove instead.
The ump bellowed, “Strike!” and the stadium erupted into chaos. Fireworks boomed overhead, drowning out the roar of the crowd. Javi threw off his mask, pocketed the ball to keep for Cal, and charged the mound where his teammates were already celebrating. Just as he got to Cal, the guys from the dugout dumped nine-gallon coolers over their heads. It was an icy shower, but Javi laughed with joy as he pulled Cal into a hug.
“You did it! I was worried about that last pitch, but you nailed it!” shouted Javi, to be heard over the commotion.
His friend grinned back. “I can’t believe you doubted El Conquistador,” he replied back, causing them both to laugh.
What a way to end the season. They might not have made it to the postseason but tonight had been a significant win. Javi couldn’t wait to get changed so that he could celebrate with Cami and Lola. The only damper on tonight’s win was not having his parents here. His mother would call him. He knew she’d been planning to watch the game on television. But not being able to share this moment with his father somewhat diminished it for him. It had been several years, yet he still caught himself looking for him or thinking about how he’d react. Tonight his dad would have been boisterous and radiating pride. It was a bittersweet thought and a reminder that life wasn’t fair. The best thing he could do was live his life to the fullest and find a way for his father’s legacy to live on.
“Go on up. I’ll take out the pup, lock up and turn out the lights,” said Javier as he, Cami, and Lola dragged themselves into his townhouse. He was exhausted, and it was so late that he’d probably sleep ’til noon tomorrow. The adrenaline from the game was long gone, replaced by a bone-deep weariness. He dreaded climbing the two flights of stairs to his bedroom. If Cami hadn’t been staying with him, he probably would have collapsed on the couch and slept there for the night. But she was here, so he’d drag himself up the stairs because there was nowhere he’d rather sleep than beside her.
As Lola passed him for the stairs, she yawned and mumbled, “Buenas noches.” Poor kid was worn out.
His team had celebrated together on the field, and again in the dugout before hitting the showers, then celebrated again when they joined their families and friends in the packed clubhouse. The place had been a hive of activity, with even the owner showing up to congratulate the team for the series sweep and especially to praise Callahan for his no-hitter.
Javi would have much rather gone home and celebrated privately with Cami before knocking out, but since it was her brother who’d thrown the no-hitter, they’d hung around at the park way later than he would have preferred. And much later than he should have had Lola out.
They’d had to wait for everyone, including the reporters, to speak with Cal. And the whole Gallegos and Callahan clan had been there, so there’d been no dragging Cami away. He’d also spoken with a couple of the reporters with Lionel, their pitching coach. And their media person had set the team up for more interviews over the next few days. They weren’t headed to theWorld Series, or even in a pennant race, but their team was still ending the season on a high note. They’d swept their final series opponent, and their last game had been a no-hitter—an excellent way to wrap the season up.
