Page 15 of The Battery
We took to the field. A quick conference between the skipper, Cody, and myself had set expectations. Cody was reminded that he had the final say in the throw, but that he should default to my suggestions until we formed a stronger bond. For them, the battery was everything, the sacred tie between pitcher and catcher. The Brawlers could not have cared less about it, but I did. I always went out of my way to make sure the pitchers understood me.
Cody and I shared a brisk conversation as we walked out onto the field, both of us well aware the cameras and mics could pick up most things.
“Got your cinnamon?” I asked.
“How…?”
Right there, in front of cameras and the team, I held up my right index finger as if to say number one, a deadpan look on my face. To Cody, though, I knew that finger meant something else entirely.
He didn’t blush. Just laughed.Good.That’s what I was after.
“Stay loose, Hill.”
“Yessir,” Cody said and jogged to the mound as I took up my position.
I put my mitt over my knee so I could hide the remote for PitchCom. Prying eyes were everywhere, and it was anybody’s guess as to how someone could figure out which buttons we programed to correspond with the calls. I sent Cody the command for a fastball, high and outside.
The ball smacked into my glove as if they were magnets. A solid throw and off to a great start. Strike one against the hitter. I called for the same pitch and Cody threw exactly the same. Arm, elbow, shoulder, everything mirrored precisely as the first. Another strike.
For shits and giggles, and because I could, I called for exactly the same throw. Cody didn’t flinch. Another perfect re-creationwith zero variation in his mechanics. More importantly—a third strike and first out of the inning.
Like the starter, I fell into a good rhythm with Cody. By our third hitter after two outs, I honed in on his movements, the way he rotated his shoulders a certain way after too many fastballs. I observed his other tics, like how he adjusted the nicotine pouch in his mouth when—I assumed and would need to check it later—he was getting excited about things.
We closed the top half of the fourth with no runs. We bumped fists on our way to the dugout, with rounds of congratulations and ass-slaps from the other teammates. I wanted to pull Cody aside and congratulate him but I was second up to bat and needed to get ready. He disappeared into the tunnel connecting the dugout and the bullpen before I could at least say anything.
The Riders scored a run—Captain Nicest Guy in the World managed a homer—and now we were two and one. The Libertines were a fun group with zero animosity and nothing but friendly banter. It reminded me of the old days, way back before things became too serious. Just me, my twin Archie, our dad, and a field of endless possibilities. Their spirits hit me like a force of nature sometimes when things reminded me of them. I had always imagined them as something ephemeral when I was on the field. Always there. Always watching.
Our nascent battery bond was back on the field at the top of the fifth. As we walked back onto the field, Cody turned to look at me, then slapped a hand over his mouth, as if to smother himself. Just like I had.
I shot him a cool gaze but a fire danced in my eyes. Mischievous. Eager. Cody cocked a grin, satisfied in my reaction, and took to the mound.
I called for another fastball, high and outside. Only an idiot would start the next inning with the same play. Which wasperfect, because I wasn’t the brightest student and preferred to use brawn instead of brilliance.
Swing and a miss.
Fastball, low and inside.
Swing and a miss.
I rolled my neck as we reset. Eyed Cody as he walked back to the mound. Third fastball, this one high and inside.
Third swing and a miss, and our first out.
Cody adjusted his nicotine pouch.
All right, Hill, calm down, calm down. We’re just getting started.
I held genuine excitement at bay. Cody and I were connecting—finally—as I hoped we would. His mechanics stayed solid throughout the inning, something I made a mental note about to discuss with Rex. Cody was also making adaptations without my intervention. If certain batters sat on fastballs, Cody could vary his pitching speeds to throw them off. It gave me confidence in his ability to take the lead eventually.
The moment the ball smacked my glove on the last strike, I popped to my feet and nodded my head emphatically. Cody’s lips pursed to suppress the grin as much as he could. His entire body pulsated with energy I willed him to carry through to the next inning.
Hot damn.Another inning of no runs. Cody’s report card was looking good.
We bumped fists again as we neared each other while leaving the field. Another round of congrats. This time, I had a chance to pull him aside after the last person congratulated him. I worked at yanking off my catcher’s gear while Cody stood with a carefully controlled smile.
“Use only a little bit, Hill,” I told him. “Hold onto that. Don’t lose any of it. Don’t use all of it. Get me?”
“Yessir,” he said with an enthusiastic nod. “That was damn good though, wasn’t it?”
