“Ready for your close-up fail?” Rob taunted, letting Connor know that this time, he was going to throw it off center. If Connor was going to catch it behind his back, this was the time. I took a deep breath and glanced nervously at the dozen cameras pointed at Connor. He could do it, I told myself, praying it was true.
Meanwhile, Connor straightened slightly and angled himself so that his left shoulder was aimed at Rob. When the pitch came, he’d whip his glove behind his back and catch the ball there. Maybe.
“Ye—”
Whoosh.
A clean miss.
Crap.
Rob crowed. “Told you he couldn’t do it.”
One of the cameramen picked up the ball from where it had nailed his video camera case and tossed it to Rob. Heidi, Rob’s girlfriend and one of the reporters here, handed him a pen. He rapidly signed it, before tossing it into the crowd.
“Ready to try again?”
“Bring it, babyface.”
Rob grinned. He really did have a bit of a babyface, but it worked on him. I crossed my fingers and silently willed the pitch to be slower. Easier. Then I held my breath as Rob wound up and let it fly.
Whoosh.
Connor nearly had it, but it ricocheted off the edge of his glove and went soaring into the crowd.
Double crap.
“Two for me,” Rob laughed.
“I’m just getting started,” Connor growled.
“Well, hurry up. It’s going to be winter before you find your groove.”
Another throw. Another miss.
This was not going well.
“Maybe this will work,” Rob said. Then as a joke, he lobbed a pitch underhand, as if it was a softball. But the throw was also really short.
Connor lurched forward, starting to catch it in front of himself, then remembered at the last second to flip around. Too late. The ball bounced high into the crowd.
“You’re supposed to throw it home,” Connor said. “Not to third base.” I didn’t detect any edge to his voice, certainly nothing the cameras could pick up. But I was worried about the clench of the man’s jaw. What he was trying to do was difficult, and he had cameras catching every move.
“Come on, Connor,” I murmured under my breath. “Please, please, please.”
His sister wasn’t so subtle. “Show them what you can do, Connor,” she called. And then when he missed the next pitch, she held up the calendar. “Who cares if he can catch when he looks like this?”
Um…everybody? They were all here for the All-Star Game. Of course they cared if he could catch. Though, no one was really expecting another behind-the-back miracle in this game like he’d pulled off against the Tigers.
“Okay, how about an easy one?” Rob called.
“Over the plate, please.”
“Which is where, exactly?”
Good question. I hadn’t drawn a plate.
“Gia, give me the chalk.”
