Page 80 of The Battery
I feigned a swing as the pitcher threw. Held it way back, not because I could anticipate what he would throw, but I wanted to see what it would be. I held, it looked like a fastball, high and way outside. The ump called a ball, and the catcher returned it to the pitcher.
Okay. I think I understood these guys better today.
The pitcher threw and I swung. Ball whiffed right by, as if it phased right through my bat.Dammit.Strike one.
Time to be aggressive.
I wanted—needed—us to start showing we meant business. The Riders weren’t always known for their strong starts, and indeed our strategy had always been a strong defense and coming back to life when everyone thought we were against the ropes. But this was for the Wild Card, which was ultimately for the pennant and my uncle. I had to give it everything.
Third pitch. He threw a changeup, but it came in too high. The perfect level for my bat.
Crack.
The ball practically teleported into the gap between the outfielders. My feet had wings as I kicked up dust devils on my way to first and then second without breaking stride. Rome had already reached home. I thought I’d stop at second, but the outfielder fumbled to get the ball and when he threw it was off target. So I kept going. Thought it was a mistake halfway there. I knew the ball was coming in, fast…
I leaped into a dive and skidded along the dirt, hands stretching before me to reach the pristine white base with Rome’s dirty footprint on it. I couldn’t read the play exactly and my confirmation bias told me my fingers touched the base before I heard thesmackof the ball reaching the third baseman’s glove.
“Safe!” the umpire exclaimed. I heard screaming from my dugout. Popped to my feet.
All right. Off to a good start.
Third base was right next to our dugout. I heard Rome shouting words of disbelief in his famous clean mouth speak amidst a snake pit of profanity. I pumped my fist in the air toward them, then turned my focus back to the plate.
This was only the beginning, we had a long nine innings in front of us. I had to stay focused. This was the first of many gates that would bring me to a fulfilling promise. Wehadto win.
*
We won.
We secured our spot in postseason, eked out by a single run at the top of the ninth that we managed to hold in the bottom. It was not the most glorious of wins, but a victory, nonetheless.
In the clubhouse afterward my song was blasting at volume eleven. They even got me to stand in the middle of the crowd and jump with them. I let myself cut loose, if only for a moment. This was something I never would have done with the Brawlers. Ever. But with Rome and Freddie and the Assholes and everyone, something had shifted for me.
Cody.He was there right beside me. Hand on my back as we leaped together. Almost like we were dancing.
Not much longer now, Uncle Andy, I thought through the chaos of booming music and screaming teammates.
He didn’t respond, but it felt like he did. Because I had been looking at Cody. The man had more than just delight in those eyes of his as we jumped together. Something a whole lot deeper than that.
Don’t forget the other promise, my uncle seemed to say to me.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
Cody
We had aone day break before the Wild Card Series kicked off. Leo transformed a section of his backyard into its own little bullpen with a radar gun, pitching net, weighted baseballs, and a slope board.
Gone was the thick, humid heat of summer, replaced by the crisp breezes of autumn. The pool would be seeing less and less use as the days went on and the hot tub became the favored spot in the backyard. For now, however, Leo stood beside me while I threw weighted baseballs into the net at the far side of the yard. With decent cloud coverage overhead and temperatures in the low sixties, it was perfect practice conditions.
I had my monitor removed and the feeling of being free of that sticky patch gave me wings. I received a perfect score (if you could call it that) with zero issues through the monitoring cycle. As expected, and explained to me by the doctors, the hardest part of recovery would be my ribs healing. The heart stoppage was a onetime thing due to poor, awful timing. It had almost no chance of happening again.
Of course, that did nothing to stop my paranoia. I had yet to enter a game. I would soon. Management already had their fingers on the “go” button to put me back in. How much of Leo’s compartmentalizing trick could I use? Sure, I could separate myself from the crowd, the anger toward another player. But what aboutfear? Actual life-and-deathfear? I had never had to separate that before.
“Almost there with your mechanics,” Leo said as he did a slow walk behind me while I threw. As he had instructed, I didn’tturn to listen or acknowledge. Just kept picking up balls and throwing while he assessed. “Chest expansion is just shy of what it used to be.”
That, however, made me paused. I finished throwing another and then turned to him. “How could you possibly pick up on something that minor?”
He shrugged, then gestured for me to continue. “Don’t be afraid. Really expand out. Maybe over-expand your chest when taking a breath. Get a feel for that so you can find the middle.”
