Page 86 of The Battery
We didn’t score any runs, despite each player trying their damnedest. Rome was the closest to scoring but ended up closing out the inning by not making it to home base in time. We maintained one to zero, which now put us again in the precarious position of holding back the unstoppable force of the Barracudas with the immovable Riders battery.
I couldn’t get to the mound without the impetus of Leo’s fist bump. I was not a superstitious person, but Leo was making me one. With my foot on the rubber, I couldn’t see Leo’s face through his mask, but in my mind’s eye I saw his cool andconsternation. Unemotional, reliable, steady. A rock that I once found infuriating but had come to need.
I experienced a flash of realization as I stood there waiting for the first Barracudas hitter to step up to the plate. I had needed to separate my desire for Leo from my reliance on his abilities as a catcher. But now, I could combine the two. It strengthened our bond and did not diminish my concentration on the game like I thought it would. My love for him paired with my reliance on his skills made for an unbreakable connection. Stronger than any other battery because we had something unique between us that no one else had.
How could I not lean into that?
Riding on a high that hit me like a fastball, I did my job as a setup man. Between Leo’s expert calls and my nasty throws, we managed to, one after the other like dominos, knock out three hitters in a row to close out the inning. The crowd cheered for us when we left the field together. Behind me, the jumbotron flashed with our massive cartoon counterparts, the Spartan and the Phoenix. This time, they were screaming and high-fiving each other. To appease the fans, Leo and I exchanged a high five as well. Uproarious laughter from the stands. Leo rolled his eyes, trying to hide his smile. I beamed.
I sat with him in the dugout instead of going back to the bullpen. If the Barracudas didn’t score any runs from our closer, we’d win the Wild Card Series and advance to the pennant. Leo didn’t have many tells and I had come to rely on that solid display of impassivity. However, now, sitting in the dugout waiting for our closer to kick some ass, Leo’s right knee bounced as his foot gyrated. I wanted to put my hand on it, to still him, but the nervous tic gave me another, albeit brief, insight into the man’s psyche.
This was a penultimate moment for him. Of course he’d be nervous.
“I’m taking you up north tomorrow,” Leo said suddenly. I took a sharp breath in surprise. Our closer had just thrown for the second out. We only had one more to go. Runners were on first and second.
“What?” was the only way I could respond. I knew he wanted to do something during the break between the Wild Card games and the pennant series.
“I rented us a cabin for two nights.”
He was spilling his guts because of his nerves. He had scooted to the edge of his seat. Our closer had just thrown a strike. Only two more.
“A nice getaway, eh?” I asked.
He stood after the second strike. I had to stand as well. Everyone was quiet. Waiting.
Leo’s grip on the railing before him was like iron. I thought he was going to crush it.
“We’ll make a memory out of it,” he said as the closer winded up for the throw. “I promise.”
He didn’t give promises lightly. Saying those two words were as good as gold for this man. He put everything he had into those words when he said them.
I had been caught staring in surprise. My eyes tracing over the contours of his face as he watched the game.
I missed the third strike. I missed the burst of sudden celebration in the dugout and stands as everyone realized we’d be going to the League Championship series.
All I could think was…
He made a promise to me.
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
Cody
It only tookan hour and a half for us to get all talk of the game out of our systems. After securing our place in the pennant race, we left the following morning for a little town in southern New Hampshire. We would spend two nights in a log cabin set on a pond, surrounded by peak New England foliage the likes of which graced calendars and post cards around the world.
We’d attend a charity event the afternoon we got back, then another charity dinner in Boston that evening. The following day was filled with community activities at the stadium, and then we’d leave early the next day to fly to Austin, Texas. We’d be fighting the Lone Stars for the pennant. And we would win. I was sure of it.
The drive was spent discussing tactics for the pennant. Leo, in his usual blunt manner, told me all the minor things I did wrong during the last game. I didn’t take offense (I would have earlier in my career but he broke me of that nasty habit) and listened to the expert that he was.
Our view transformed as we left the highway and hit the back roads. Gone was the stretch of pavement and the roar of cars, we were swallowed by mighty evergreens. Stalwart guardians denying the chaos of modernity. The green was interspersed with majestic shades of burnt orange, red like the early dawn, and yellow the crispiest shade of sunshine. My mouth had dropped open to take in the magnitude of colors. I had experienced autumn in New England plenty of times, but here deep in the woods, peak foliage took on another meaning.
As pavement turned to gravel, the rough and tumble ground filled the car with noise. Leo navigated us in accordance with the maps, driving up a slight incline as showers of leaves hit the windshield. We pulled into a narrow driveway leading to a single-story log cabin. We got out and stretched. The cabin itself blocked the view, the building surrounded by thick copses of trees. I grabbed our bags while Leo hauled a massive cooler. The primary entrance was apparently in the front so we walked along the porch that wrapped around the side of the house.
I slowed to a halt as my mouth dropped open. A beautiful serene and placid lake stretched behind a sandy beach. Endless reiterations of fall colors painted the horizon, reflected perfectly upon the water as if in a mirrored realm. The sun was high, casting golden light on all it touched, like a spotlight on the beauty of autumn. As if on cue, a pair of hawks soared across the water in search of an afternoon meal.
The cooler slammed into my back and sent me stumbling forward.
“Shit, sorry,” Leo barked. “Was caught by the view, too.” He set the cooler down to enter the code to get into the house. I didn’t want to peel my eyes away from the vista. The cabin sat atop a small hill, a stoney path meandering down to the water where the dock had been set on the beach, removed for the winter.
