Page 76 of The Battery
The game would start in two hours. Our time on the field would be up soon and I needed to get out there to make an appearance. I was already wearing Riders-branded workout gear, so I made my way to the field. Emma, our blond bombshell for PR, caught me the moment I waddled my way from the dugout. By the batting net, I spied Leo and Rome taking turns hitting. Leo stared me down like I had just stabbed his grandmother. All danger and loathing.
He winked.
Danger and loathing. But all for show. I grinned and he turned away with the hint of a smile on his lips.
“We’ve got two networks here,” Emma said as she walked alongside me. “Basic questions. Think you’re up for answering?”
“I think so, yeah.”
“Yes or no?”
Her tone caught me off guard. “Um.Yes.”
“Good. Cody,” she said as we reached two camera crews and two reporters, “this is Shana Monohan and—”
“Christopher Bellamy,” I finished for Emma.Everyoneknew Christopher. A former MLB star himself, he held the current record for the most consecutive games with a hit, at fifty-freaking-seven.
I grabbed Christopher’s hand emphatically. He stood near Leo’s height and had roughly the same build. At forty-five, the only sign of his age was the graying hair at his temples.
“Nice to meet ya, kid,” Christopher said. “Helluva arm for a rookie.”
“Thank you, sir,” I said, suddenly enamored with the man. He was more handsome in person than he was on TV now that he was retired from the game.
“When do you think you’ll be back on the field?”
“Actually,” Shana interrupted, a petite woman with copper-colored hair. “Emma said I could get in some questions first. Do you mind standing right here so we can get the sun?”
“Yeah, sure,” I said.
“Can you tell us about when you remember waking up? What was it like having laid in front of a nearly packed stadium after you just almost died?”
The hell kind of question…
I looked at Emma, who gave me an encouraging gesture to answer.
“Um, well, it was scary. But, uh, y’know, I don’t remember too much.”
Shana launched into a string of questions that had nothing to do with my time as a pitcher or my ability. Instead, she focused on the injury itself, and it almost felt like she was trying to make me relive one of the scariest, worst moments of my life. I quickly learned to give lame, fumbled answers. Maybe that’s what Emma was trying to teach me.
Finally done, Shana and her team left to peruse the field while Christopher shot his questions. He focused on my stats and surprised me with his knowledge of my time with the Mariners. I answered in full, no stumbling, and wanted him to keep going when the camera shut off.
The camera crew shuffled away, but Christopher remained. He leaned in close. “Saw your knuckleball. When you gonna debut it?”
I nearly leaped in place with surprise. Leo and I had been practicing that all summer before my injury. I had it perfected. The call was coded on PitchCom, but no one ever used it since knuckleballs were too unreliable for the game.
So how did Christopher know?
The Mariners, I realized. If he knew my stats and could rattle off some facts of my time there, he would have known or seen that I used my knuckleball a handful of times in those games.
“Word of advice, kid,” Christopher said as he leaned in closer, “save it for the perfect moment. Use itsparingly. Once or twice per season.”
I nodded. “Thanks, Christopher. I’ll keep that in mind.”
Advice from the veteran of veterans? Hell yes.
I made my rotation around the field just as the Riders’ time was almost up. The Jacksonville Barracudas would take to the field next for their own practice session while we recuperated in the clubhouse. I swung over to see Rome and Leo, who were chatting with a batting coach.
“First interview?” Rome asked as I approached.
