Page 4 of The Yips

“It’s St. Anthony. And, of course, I will. But you know your success has nothing to do with that silly medallion.”

“Let’s just hope I find it in the next couple of days, and we won’t need to test your theory.”

CHAPTER 5

Kelsey

Iwas scheduled to close atThe Mound, the sports bar where I worked as a bartender, Friday night, but my manager, Jac, had switched my shift so I could get home and sleep before my early morning Logan run.

“I appreciate it, but I’m used to operating on minimal sleep. I’ll stick around and help restock the bar before I leave.”

There was a home game earlier that night, so we had two rushes: pre-game and post. The post-game rush could have been better; the Minutemen lost. A few poor souls without tickets stayed and watched during the game, complaining about every mistake the players and manager made. Boston fans were some of the most passionate in sports, and their passion was both positive and negative.

“What the fuck was wrong with Drummond tonight?” played on repeat as the bar crowd analyzed every pitch he threw.

“I’m so glad I don’t like baseball. Otherwise, tonight would have been a bad one,” I told Jac as I changed a keg of Narragansett beer.

“The Minutemen put a lot into that guy, he’s making a fuck ton of money, he needs to last more than two innings,” she said. Her frustration wasn’t limited to the game, a shitty start translated to shitty tips for us.

“How much money is a fuck ton?” I asked.

“About $43 million a year, if you earn that much money, you aren’t allowed to fuck up.”

One of the bar customers piped in, “Yeah, what she said.”

What does someone do with that much money? I had an extra $500 in my savings account, and the security it had provided me was immeasurable. Ten grand would be life-changing at this point. They showed his photo on sports shows afterward, and I agreed with Jac; he was hot but apparently overrated and a waste of money. Of course, ten minutes later, when I repeated the sentiment that he was overrated, Jac got pissed. Baseball fans in this town were all over the place. It was a love/hate relationship with the team, the coaches, the players, and the fans. As much as she loved to complain, she didn’t want anyone else to badmouth her team.

When it started to wind down for the night, Jac caught me yawning and sent me home. “Go home and let your dad get some sleep. I’ll see you back next week,” she said. Jac couldn’t always be flexible, but she did her best to help me when she could.

I had the rest of the weekend off with Kylie, but tomorrow was a day game anyway. I never worked during the day because I didn’t have coverage for Crew, but Kylie had promised to help while she was home to help maximize what I earned each shift.

When I finally got home, my dad was asleep on the couch, he had planned to sleep over and stay with Crewwhile I drove Uber and picked up my sister. Usually, if I hung around Beacon Hill in the morning, I’d pick up a ride to bring someone to the airport. If all went well, I’d make a little cash on the way to get Kylie. I hadn’t made much money driving the last few months, and Crew needed me during some of the more lucrative times.

Crew slept in a bassinet in my room, my apartment only had one bedroom. I checked on him just before I collapsed into bed and he was out cold. I had just dosed off when I heard him whimper. I waited to see if he would fall back to sleep, but he screamed in protest two breaths later. I sighed and wiped my eyes as I attempted to force myself fully awake.

“Hey,” I shushed him, kissing the top of his head as I adjusted my bra so I could nurse him. He latched on aggressively, and I wondered if this might be the start of a growth spurt. I had asked and found so many answers to these late-night questions through virtual friends I had met on Facebook groups. Tomorrow, when I had more energy, I would post the question. I sought out friends and family whenever possible, but I wished I had someone else to share this responsibility with me at times like these.

Crew emptied one breast; I burped him and switched sides. I yawned and kept blinking my eyes to stay awake until he finished. Once he dozed off, I removed him from my breast, kissed his head, and placed him back in the bassinet.

“I love you, sweet boy,” I whispered into the dark just before I passed out.

CHAPTER 6

Sam

That had to be the worst outing of my career. No matter what I did, my pitches were off, either too slow, too low, or not enough spin. In the last few days, I had gotten a new phone and given it to my assistant to handle the calls that I’m sure were blowing up my phone. I had given my new number only to a very limited number of people. My father couldn’t reach me, but it didn’t protect me from his voice in my head.

When I went to the trainers for post-game recovery, I wondered if it was even necessary. I had only been out for an inning and a half, but the damage to my ERA would be felt for a long time. Twelve fucking runs I gave up before barely retiring four batters. I was pulled from the game once they realized that this game was starting to look like the home run derby, and there was no way I would recover.

Gramps: Are we still meeting for dinner?

Me: You want to be seen with me?

Gramps: Everyone has a bad game—even your father.

Me: You sure it’s not too late for you?

I was good for a late dinner but felt guilty keeping Gramps out too late at night. I had wished that it would be more celebratory. I wanted to succeed for Gramps because I knew that he loved me no matter what. I could quit baseball tomorrow and become a carpenter, and he would still be proud of me.

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