I chuckle. “That’s probably accurate.”
“And he’s so unnecessarily picky. He redlined a comma today,” she says, propping up her phone so she can aggressively tug her hair into a ponytail.
“A comma?”
She levels me with a flat look. “A comma. He said it ‘lacked confidence.’”
I choke on a laugh. “I’m sorry, your comma wasn’t assertive enough?”
“He said precision reflects discipline.”
I roll my eyes.
“Yes!” She jabs a finger at the screen. “Exactly. I’m not saying large errors shouldn’t be addressed, but a comma?”
“Sorry, Mil.”
The sigh leaving her mouth could cast a fleet of ships to sea. “It’s okay. I mean…it’s not, but I’ll be okay.”
“You absolutely will,” I say with complete confidence.
I haven’t seen a mountain my older sister couldn’t tackle.
“How’s the team today?” she asks.
“They’re fine.” I wave a hand. “Another game this afternoon.”
“Wow,” she deadpans. “You seem really enthused.”
“I didn’t mean it like that. It’s work. You get it.”
Amelia tilts her head. “Do I, though? I’m suffering in the legal trenches now because eventually I’ll get my pick of clients. Why are you suffering through a sport if you don’t like it?”
“I do like it,” I say defensively.
I wouldn’t be keeping this relentless schedule if I didn’t. Being at the ballpark hours before the first pitch, tracking bullpen usage, and juggling clubhouse conversations isn’t for the faint of heart. One hundred and sixty-two games a season means there are barely any off days. I speak to players and managers more frequently than reporters covering any other sport.
“But you could report onanything.”
I cross one arm across my chest since I’m still holding the phone in the other. “I like sports.”
“So report on tennis, volleyball, or…surfing.”
My stomach seizes at the word. “You know I can’t do that.”
“Can’t or won’t?”
“Mil,” I say with a groan. “I need to be camera-ready in twenty minutes. I can’t do this right now.”
“Fine. I’ll accept that as today’s excuse.”
The way she saystoday’s excusegrates even as I know my sister is right. There’s no physical reason why I couldn’t cover surfing.
“You know why I chose baseball.”
Amelia levels me with an unimpressed look. “Save me the sound bite.”
“What sound bite?” I ask, even though I know exactly what she’s referring to.
