Scotty punches his glove and the manager Gainsboro relaxes his shoulders in the dugout. He’s standing next to Neuman. I know one look of agony on my face or even one wild pitch, and they’re pulling me out of the game. I won’t let that happen. I’ve worked too hard to get to this point. This is gonna be my year.
The next batter comes to the plate. He’s the sixth batter and I’ve only ever faced him once before. He’s new to the league but a rising star. Scotty snaps up from his squat and jogs toward the mound.
“Looking good, Tuck,” he says when he reaches me.
“Thanks. What’s up?”
“I know we don’t usually go with the fastball on this one, but I think we should. He’s been hitting well, but he hasn’t faced you much, so he isn’t comfortable with your speed.”
I shake my head. “No. Let’s stick with the original plan. Let’s start with the cutter.”
He pauses with his hands on his hips. His gaze travels to the dugout behind me, but I don’t look back. That would be a sign of uncertainty. I know my pitches and I’m sticking to the plan.
“Fine. Let’s do it your way.”
I nod and he walks back to the plate and squats into position. I throw the cutter.
“Strike one!”
I position my fingers for the curveball and throw it with as much finesse as possibly can.
The rookie makes contact; it’s a hard hit ball down the middle but our shortstop makes a diving catch, quickly recovers, and throws the man out at first.
The crowd goes crazy and I tip my hat off to him. Great play.
Walker comes up to the plate next, and I’ve faced him many times. We used to play ball together in college. When it comes to these sorts of match ups, it’s usually the hitter that has the advantage, but not today.
I roll my shoulders back. The tiny twinge is there, but it’s under control. At least for now. I feel good. No, I feel great. I don’t care what Walker’s numbers are against me, he’s going down today.
Come on, Walker. Give me your best shot.
Walker lifts his bat and waits for my pitch. He stares at me with an intensity in his eyes that is all too familiar. He wants this to go very differently than I do, but only one of us can win the match-up.
When Scotty signals for the curveball, I shake him off. He calls for the slider next, but I shake that off, too. After some hesitation, he sends me the fastball sign and I nod slowly. That’s the pitch I want. I know I can blow it past Walker. I always have. He loves a fastball and won’t lay off of it. I just have to make sure it’s a little too high for him to hit.
I raise my leg and deliver the pitch.
Crack!
Walker hits the ball and starts running. But I can’t turn around, something hurts so badly. It’s my head.
It all happens so quickly.
I fall to the ground hard, and in a stadium filled with forty thousand fans, I don’t hear a sound.
Then, everything goes dark.
15
Sage
The large green road sign with the white font above the road is familiar, yet uneasiness rises in my throat and threatens to choke me.
My grip on the steering wheel tightens as I inch closer to the vehicle in front of me. I've been nervous ever since Frankie suggested we go to Niagara Falls for our road trip and visit the Canadian side. I haven’t been to Canada since my parents died. It would be the first time I’m returning without them.
“Why are you so worried? It’s not like we’ve got drugs in the car.”
I know Frankie doesn’t mean to be self-absorbed right now. Losing both her parents and having to relive painful memories isn’t something I’d wish on my friend. I struggle between trying to explain what I’m feeling or just letting it go. I choose the latter. I don’t really know how to explain it, anyway.
