Page 85 of The Battery
A new cheer ripped through the crowd. “Spar-tan, Spar-tan, Spar-tan,” when Leonidas Papadopoulos was called. I stood in the bullpen and couldn’t see him, but I imagined the fierce consternation that settled on his face at the crowd’s recognition of their new, beloved trade. One of the Assholes, Shoji, elbowed me for some reason when that happened. He raised his eyebrows twice, to which I gave him a questioning look. Did they suspect…?
I itched to see his reaction but had to wait until after the game. I’d pop over to the dugout toward the end. They intended to use me again tonight as a setup man. Leo’s strategy for the last game worked well enough and the Barracudas only modified a little here and there. So long as I prevented them from gaining any runs.
To say the Barracudas put up a fight would be an understatement. The relief pitchers in the bullpen all lined up along the fencing to watch with rapt attention. Four innings into the game and no one had scored a single run. They called these games a pitchers’ duel, each displaying their supreme ability and matching each other. Our starter was done after four innings and so was theirs. We each substituted in the same inning and continued to wage war for nearly another two inningswithoutany runs. The two zeroes on the scoreboard appeared to mock both teams.
Things changed during the bottom of the sixth. I had already made my way to the dugout at that point. I’d be up for the seventh and eighth innings and liked to prep myself with theother boys before playing. I sidled up next to Leo as I usually did. The only acknowledgment of my presence came at the extension of his leg so that our knees kissed.
Rome was on second base and Kaminski, a short man with cheetah speed, was up to bat. I leaned my elbows on my knees as Kaminski swung and missed, twice. It’d make for our second out if he missed a third time. At the rate the pitcher had been going, I wouldn’t be surprised, only annoyed.
But the Barracudas’ pitcher delivered a fastball on the outside corner. Kaminski slapped a sharp grounder through the hole between first and second into right field. Rome ignited and became a blur of blue and bronze as he ran for third. He’d know the right fielder had to field and make the throw—which he did, targeting third base since that was the concern. But Rome, with his superior speed, slid into the base with a perfect hook slide.
Kaminski wasn’t satisfied with first, though, and I didn’t blame him. He beat it toward second. The third baseman caught the attempt at a double. He threw to second to try and catch Kaminski, but the throw was off target and sailed into the outfield.
Rome seized the opportunity. He had barely made it up from his slide and was already off again. I thought he was fast before—now, hebecamespeed. His sprint for home had everyone in the stadium, and us in the dugout, on our feet screaming. My hands locked around the railing, Leo beside me, pressing his side into me.
The center fielder retrieved the ball from near the second base line and hurled the ball to the cutoff man, the shortstop, who relayed it to the catcher. Time slowed, as it always does in those moments. Rome emptied whatever energy he had left into a final burst of speed, then slid headfirst into home plate as the ball sailed over his head.
Dirt sprayed everywhere at the same moment we could hear thesmackof the ball into the catcher’s glove. A single beat of silence swallowed the moment. Then…
“Safe!” came the cry of the umpire.
Thunderous applause from the crowd drown out everything, second only to Rome’s booming walkup song over the speakers, the chorus to “Roam” by the B-52s.
Finally, we scored a run. It was now one to nothing, and up tometo see that the Barracudas stayed at nil for the next two innings.
Two batters in a row struck out, ending the sixth inning. Leo had been gearing up and together we walked onto the field, fist-bumped.
“You got this, Hill,” he said to me.
“Risin’ from the ashes,” I said, though it felt silly to say those words. He snorted out a bout of laughter, something that caught me off guard, then elbowed me before we broke to take our positions.
Rise from the ashes I did. The seventh inning passed in a blur. The closest the Barracudas got was third base. After two outs from striking out the hitters, the runner on third got impatient. During a line drive down the center, Freddie got to the ball first and threw to Leo, who tagged the guy out in time. We ended the inning without allowing any runs.
We jogged back to the dugout. Freddie moved up beside Leo and me and said, “Trying to make a joke about flames, but all I can think of is ‘flamer.’”
I cackled loud enough that the shotgun microphones most certainly picked up on it. “Says the guy with red hair,” I said in return.
“You two,” Leo added while he shook his head. We drained into the dugout. Congrats all around. The skipper pulled meand Leo aside immediately to give us some pointers for the next inning. I listened with rapt attention.
Leo and I were glued to each other during the bottom of the seventh as we waited our next turn.
“Don’t be nervous,” he said in a soft tone. I itched to hold onto his thigh to steady my nerves, but instead I had my elbows braced on my knees while my hands covered my lower face.
I shook my head. “Eager,” I said. “Not nervous.”
“Don’t lie to me,” he said in that commanding tone of his.
“Okay, I’m nervous.” I smiled. Looked at him. “In a good way. Eager kind of nervous.”
“Anticipatory, I believe is the word,” Leo said. I got one of his crooked grins. The sight eased my tension.
“Anybody ever tell you that you have a nice smile,” I said in a careful whisper.
That half smile of his bloomed into a full one. He looked away, to hide it from me. It gave me a moment to reflect on where we had been a few months ago. The effort it took just to peek behind the curtain of this man. Now here he was, doling out smiles like brochures in front of a museum. I marked it down as a win.
Leo shook his head. “Keep your head in the game, Hill.”
I ran my tongue over my upper teeth. “Yessir.”
