Page 6 of Nailed at Home Plate

I snorted. Baseball was the one sport where you didn’t necessarily have to be physically fit to play. I’d seen some pitchers and basemen who had pot bellies that Santa would be envious of.

“Well, like you, I like being a quiet swamp witch in my apartment, thank you very much.”

“Yeah, that doesn’t seem like Jamie’s vibe at all.” I rolled my eyes.

“You don’t know that. Maybe he’s a witch-loving homebody.” When Jamie wasn’t on the field, I was usually combing through interviews and articles about him. There was never much. It was like he was allergic to the spotlight. When he did manage to interview somewhere it was typically to talk about his position and what the team was doing. Outside of baseball, he was seemingly an enigma.

Some of the other Philadelphia players didn’t shy from the spotlight. They were found out on the town, taking photos with fans or in the arms of some pretty model or influencer. Not that I knew who any of the women were. Nor did I care.

I liked to think that Jamie was a guy who was more comfortable at home. Maybe he had a dog or even a cat. Or maybe he was close to his parents and siblings, and he spent his free time hanging out with them.

“Come on, the man is too pretty. He can’t sit and waste away at home.”

“You do.” I quipped back at her. The unexpected compliment spawned a quick quirk of a smirk at the corner of her mouth. “Aren’t you the one who is supposed to be encouraging this infatuation instead of giving me shit for it?”

“Oh, right. I need something to razz you about daily. Well, until one of us finds a real guy and not one from a book or on TV.” We glanced at each other for a moment before erupting into a fit of uproarious laughter. A real man? Who were we kidding?

Blinding Lights

POP GOES AMBIENT & VANCOUVER SLEEP CLINIC

It wasn’t a game night, nor was it the night before an away series. So, pulling up to the Sillys’ stadium left me with a sense of worry. I’d been utterly perplexed by the emergency call from Coach Topper himself. The man only made gruff and to-the-point phone calls. Good or bad, his voice never wavered. So, it was always a crapshoot on what to expect.

But this call was different. Part of me was worried that something bad had come down from ownership. If there was even a hint of something off in any aspect of my life, my body went into immediate. “doomsday protocol”, complete with stress sweat and body-aching anxiety. Sometimes I was even treated to a “high heart rate” alert on my smartwatch. I had two alerts just on the drive over to the stadium.

It was no secret that trying to get this whole Entertainment League Baseball thing off the ground had been pretty rough. We still hadn’t managed a sell-out night since the stadium opened its doors. You’d think with all the amazing comedians from the Philly area that this place would be ripe to accept a baseball team like the Sillys. It seemed that Phillysports fans were keener on theserioussort of sports. Hell, the professional soccer team was still trying to get its footing with the fans. And they’d been around longer than we had.

To quell the stench of my pure unfiltered anxiety, I kept my car window down in the hope that the fresh air would give me the smell of Philly pollution instead of BO. Not that I would have much to worry about in the basement-smelling Sillys locker room.

Whatever it was, I hoped the news was good. The guys needed a little boost of something. It wasn't even close to mid-season and I could tell they were losing a bit of steam. The dance routines of late were a bit half-assed and without the usual spunk. It was also deep into the fiery and unpredictable hell that was Pennsylvania weather. The hot and humid temperatures always made things unpleasant.

As I made my way down the steps, there was a murmur coming from the locker room. It was an odd sight to see the guys in their street clothes and not their usual workout gear or uniform. They invited me out from time to time, but that was outside of the ballpark.

“Yo, Cadence, do you know why Topper called us?” Arlow looked up from his seat on the bench, straddling it as he leaned his elbows on his thighs. All eyes turned to me, even the ones from the other coaching staff members.

“What makes you think I know anything? I was just about to ask if any of you guys knew.” There were some murmurs of “no” and a whole lot of shaking heads. That made this meeting even moreunsettling. What the hell was so important to call us all in on our day off but not tell anyone anything?

“Do you think it's something bad?” Schmidt stood as he rubbed the back of his neck nervously. The guys all exchanged looks as if they all had the same feeling.

“I sure as fuck hope not.” I gave them a half-assed awkward smile to reassure them in some capacity. “I mean, if it was something serious, I’m sure Topper wouldn’t have been so casual about the meeting place forwhateverit is he needs to tell us. If it really was bad news, he would’ve invited us all someplace that had readily available alcohol.”

That at least got me some enthusiastic nods. Not that I had anything to compare this event to. In all my years with the Sillys, I couldn’t remember a time that we were all called in to meet under such mysterious circumstances. I tried to put on a brave face for the team.

Muffled voices grew louder beyond the main door to the locker room. The strain to hear made the room so quiet that one could hear a pin drop. It was the first time I’d ever experienced any measure of time where all of the guys were this silent before.

From what I could tell, there were at least two voices beyond the door, so it was a surprise to us all to see only Topper make his way into the room. He was in his usual team-branded gear. I once joked to his wife that I wouldn’t be surprised to know that he had Sillys-branded pajamas that he wore to bed. For Topper being such a grump of a guy, he sure loved this team. Maybe to an unhealthy level.

As soon as the door clicked shut it was as if the shaken bottle was suddenly uncorked. All the guyswent off at once, standing to confront Topper with their barrage of questions. It was times like these that I wished I wore my whistle around my neck at all times. Not that the guys would have shut up. We were all a mess with anxiety.

“Alright, alright, settle down gents.” Topper shot me a look with a quick nod. “And ladies.” He never needed to personally address me, apart from the men, but he always went out of his way to do so. There was some charm to his rough exterior.

I was always the one who was the first to shut up and listen when the typically quiet manager spoke up, unlike the guys. It was like corralling a room of sugar-high preschoolers most days. “We have a…new player joining the team tonight.”

There was a murmur throughout the room as I cocked my brow. Since I was a part of the coaching staff, typically I was briefed when we had a new player join the Sillys. I reviewed their audition tape and talent background so I could figure out where in the entertainment lineup they would fit. But that was always at the beginning of the season. To have someone join at such a weird time was suspicious indeed. From the looks around the room, it seemed that Topper was the only one akin to this information.

“This came down from ownership today and y’all need to be on your best behavior and show him how it's done around here. Just because he has more of astatus, doesn’t mean that we will treat him any differently. Especially since he will be with us for the foreseeable future while he recovers here.”

Now I was completely perplexed. Ownership? This shit had to be serious. Did they find someone in the farm that they wanted to bring up to the big city?Players had to work their way through the minors’ farming system as ownership cultivated them for the big leagues. Was this some hotshot player that they found out of the blue?

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