“My arm,” I say through gritted teeth. “It hurts like fuck.”
“Let’s have Lee take a look at it. Maybe it just needs a rub down.”
I’ve pulled muscles before, so I know this isn’t a pull.
But I follow Neuman off the field and into the training room. Gainsboro says nothing the whole walk back. He just rubs his mouth and stares straight ahead.
It makes me nervous, but I can’t worry about him right now.
Neuman talks to our physiotherapist Michael Lee and explains the situation to him.
“When did it start hurting?” he asks.
“After I threw the first fastball.”
“You didn’t feel anything before that?”
I recall the twinges while I was in the bullpen, but I shake my head.
“How long did you warm up before the game? Did you do those stretches I gave you?”
“Same as usual and yeah, I did them.”
He purses his lips as he presses his fingers into my shoulder.
“Ow!”
“Does that hurt?”
I stare him down, but he doesn’t flinch; instead he pokes his fingers into my bicep. “Does it hurt here?”
“It’s uncomfortable, but it doesn’t hurt like my shoulder does.”
“We need to do an ultrasound and check for any muscle tears or tendon injuries. There’s a clinic nearby and I’m friends with the doctors there.”
“Okay, give me the address and I’ll meet you there after I shower.”
“There’s no time. The sooner we take care of this the better your chances of recovery.”
“Recovery?” The word shocks me, and my mind wants to play this down. “It’s just a twinge.”
“I don’t think it is, but I won’t know for sure without seeing the images.”
“Look, I’m not leaving like this. I just need—”
“Tucker, you’re going now,” says Neuman. “We’ll have a car waiting for you outside. I’ll get your things from the locker.”
Neuman’s face is etched with worry while Gainsboro still hasn’t said a word. A knot forms at the pit of my stomach, and I have the hardest time taking a deep breath.
“I’ll meet you out front.”
As I exit the locker room, I catch a glimpse of familiar faces in the crowd. “Uncle Casey!” Anthony shouts, waving his hand.
I turn to greet him, but Neuman’s voice stops my trajectory. “There’s no time to meet with fans. Aren’t you the least bit worried about your arm?”
I consider explaining that those aren’t fans but family, but I don’t think Neuman would care at this moment. And his words have the effect he intended.
For the first time in my career—in my life—I am worried and I’m not sure what’s going to happen next.
