Page 18 of Left on Base

But right now? I feel like I’m calling all the wrong pitches. And the game—the one that matters—is slipping away from me, one missed signal at a time.

After my morning class,I head back to the athletes’ dining hall for lunch. Business economics was brutal—not because of Callie drilling me about Camdyn, but because trying to understand market equilibrium and opportunity costs on four hours of sleep isn’t exactly fun. And I have no idea when I’m gonna make time to study.

Jameson, Kingston, and I meet up with the rest of the team for hitting practice. We got back from Long Beach on Monday, and we leave for Pittsburgh in a few days for a tournament before conference play starts. If you haven’t guessed it, I'm a starting sophomore catcher for the Huskies—pretty fucking good and probably going pro someday. NCAA requirements limit us to twenty hours of required practice per week during season, but between voluntary workouts, film study, and actual games, it feels more like forty.

Some ask, why baseball?

I’m not sure how to answer that. I’ve never loved anything more than baseball. Well, there’s something I’ve loved as much and can’t imagine not being a part of my life.

I don’t know what it is about the game, but it relaxes me. For a kid who struggled to find something that calmed his nerves and made him feel like he was a part of something bigger, baseball was that for me. When I stepped behind the plate, nothing else mattered but me and the pitcher. The game was there for me when life got too much to handle. It helped me through my dad nearly dying in a fire, and it was there for me when my grandpa passed away.

It’s never let me down... until now. Until the pressure of maintaining a 3.0 GPA for eligibility while taking financial accounting and business economics makes my head spin. Until every practice feels like a tryout for the pros.

The moment I’m inside the hitting facility lined with batting cages, Jameson asks about Inez.

“Who’s the chick?” Jameson asks while feeding balls into the pitching machine.

I hadn't told him, or anyone besides Camdyn, about Inez. Somehow, it’s all around campus today like we’re back in high school and I got caught holding hands with another girl. I’m assuming Callie told him. Or maybe Inez is telling people; I have no idea.

I groan. “Not you too.” I stare at the grip on my bat, checking the wear on the tape. “I don’t wanna talk about it. And why’d you tell Cam I played Fortnite with her?”

He flashes a nervous smile. “My bad. Didn’t know it was a secret.”

“Mhm.”

Jameson Gomez—he's been my roommate and teammate since I got to UW. He’s from Alabama, not as country as you’dthink, and a hell of a pitcher. He throws consistently around a hundred miles per hour, and I’m the only one who can catch his knuckleball. We got paired up together during the first few practices last year, and now it feels wrong if I catch for anyone else.

The rhythmic thwack of balls hitting the back net usually calms me down, but today my timing’s off.

“All right, hear me out,” Jameson continues, setting another ball on the tee. “I mean, I saw her when we came in. She cute, I guess. In a quirky way I don’t know what to think about.”

I try to figure out how to explain why I would go for Inez DeLuca over Camdyn. If you looked at them side by side you’d probably say, ‘what the fuck ya thinking?’ Any man with hormones would choose Camdyn. Without question.

I shrug, not knowing what else to say. “She’s nice, ya know.”

But nice doesn’t keep me up at night thinking about her. Nice doesn’t make my heart race when I see her name pop up on my phone.

Jameson sits on the bucket of balls and places another ball on the tee. “Yeah, but journalist chick, Camdyn… no comparison.”

I take a swing and send the first ball into the net. “There’s more to dating someone than their looks, my man.”

He places another ball on the tee. “Mmm. Okay. So you find her attractive.”

“I don’t know.” I shrug and get back in my stance. I look down at my feet to be sure they’re lined up correctly. “She’s cute.”

He grins. “Would you fuck her?”

I have to think about it. I definitely can’t say I’m physically attracted to Inez. Again, she’s cute, but she doesn’t get my dick hard if that’s what you’re wondering. Maybe you weren’t. I don’tknow. And I definitely don’t think about her when… well, you know.

“Nah, man.” I draw in a quick breath and shake my head at Jameson. “I don’t like her like that.”

He chuckles as I swing and then feeds me another ball on the tee. “Okay, well, now I’m even more confused. Why the fuck ya with her?”

“Bro, there’s more to a relationship than sex.”

“Not when you’re twenty,my man.”

Well, he’s not wrong.

---