Page 84 of The Battery
I popped to my feet to stretch and nodded my head like I detected a beat only heard between us. Beautiful Cody had his eyes on me, nodding along to that silent beat.
Batter two. My suddenly love-drunk head got a dose of reality. Cody sent a slider on the first pitch that was hit into the gap in left center. He ran a damned double. I was pissed but glad for the reminder to focus.
Batter three came up next. Our buddy Lawson. He had already met with Cody prior to the start of the game for an off-camera and private reunion. Here, on the field, everyone was aware of the two. Before he stepped up to the plate, Lawson gave an overly dramatic bow toward Cody, then raised his bat in the air like he could pull lightning from the sky. In return, Cody held up his fist that grasped the ball. The crowd erupted in cheers at the sportsmanship of it. I exhaled a little cheer myself.
For the first throw, Lawson took a fastball inside for ball one. I called for another fastball, but it went high and the ump called it ball two. A changeup came next for a swing and a miss. Strike one. Cody sent me a slider that Lawson hit as a sharp grounder to third. Our third baseman fielded it cleanly and threw to first for the out but the runner on second made it to third. On his way out, Lawson double-tapped his heart and pointed at Cody, who mirrored the gesture.
Yeah, yeah, get a room, I thought. I had the sudden urge to blow Cody a kiss.
The fuck is wrong with me.
Batter four received a curveball for his first throw. It broke sharply and was called for a strike. Then came a fastball on the outside which the ump blindly thought was a ball. Idiot. The batter swung at a curveball that fouled off. I called for a changeup that Cody rejected. He sent me the command for a fastball and I didn’t deny him. He sent me the gift but the batter managed a hit. It went directly to our shortstop Freddie, who turned a double play, throwing to second and then to first.
The top of the seventh closed without any runs from the Diamonds, just like we wanted. The Riders drained off the fieldto some pop song for our outro music. Cody jogged up beside me.
“How’s it feel, Phoenix?” I asked him. Cody rewarded me with a laugh.
“Pleasedon’t start calling me that.”
Back in the dugout, the team practically piled atop Cody for his triumphant return. Half of them called him by his new nickname and I could see on his face how much he didn’t like it. Which would only make things worse because once people realized that it’d be the only name he’d ever have.
I stripped out of my gear, since I was batting third. “Stay in that place mentally,” I told Cody as he stood beside me. “Don’t get distracted. Stay focused. We’ll breeze through the next inning.”
“No pressure,” he said.
I tapped him on his chest, noticeably knocking my knuckles against his chest protector. “How was this?”
His brow went up. “Actually, I completely forgot I had it on until you said something.”
I nodded. “Good. Stay focused, Hill. We’ll win this.”
“Yessir.”
My hitting is shit compared to others, but that’s par for the course when it comes to catchers. We scored another run to put us at seven to five.
And Cody? Well, Cody delivered. No runs at the top of the eighth. He did his job to everyone’s complete satisfaction, as if he hadn’t missed a couple of months because he almost died. Did everyone proud. Didmeproud, more than I care to admit.
We won the game by holding the score through the top of the ninth. The Diamonds put up a good fight and we proved our mettle. One step closer to the pennant.
I wanted to take Cody in my arms when we got home but we were both too exhausted to even speak. I’d save it for our break, for the special getaway we had planned. Until then, pure focus.
Except for when my head hit the pillow. Then, and only then, I let fantasy take flight as it carried me to the clouds of dreamland.
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
Cody
October ninth hitwith an electrified vengeance.
On the fifth, we traveled to Jacksonville and won our first game against the Barracudas in the second Wild Card Series. The final score was five to four. They fought almost as hard as we did. Almost.
We stayed there for game two, where Jacksonville humiliated us in an eight to two defeat. Hours were spent afterward and the following morning on our flight back to Boston reviewing every minor infraction of each minute. Leo and Rome had the entire game memorized by the time we landed. When we arrived back at the stadium, Leo already had worked out a pitching plan catered to their hitters. I wouldn’t be playing in the third game, but he still included me in the discussions.
On October eighth, we won our second game against the Barracudas in game three of the series. We needed three wins to take the series and advance to championship, the glorious pennant. We had eked out a win, three to two. It was tight, as tight as the first game. The Barracudas refused to let us ahead as much as we did them.
The fourth game had arrived. If we won, we would move forward. If we lost, there’d be a tie-breaker game. We had home field advantage, and the fans were well aware of that. The game started an hour before sunset and there wasn’t a single empty seat, as if everyone in all of New England showed up for their Riders.
Game four kicked off with a beautiful rendition of the national anthem by a local singer who was big in the pop world.Her ethereal voice suffused the stadium with a glorious vibration that the crowd returned in kind with raucous applause. The Barracudas’ starting lineup was introduced to horrific jeering that made every Riders player beam. Then they announced the Riders. “Ro-mo, Ro-mo, Ro-mo,” undulated through the crowd, as it usually did when they introduced Romolo Moretti.
