Page 9 of The Battery
Batter five, Sato, shortstop. Leo called for a fastball.
I faltered a fraction. Sato was a known home run hitter. The guy loved fastballs. Always saw them coming. At the mound, I shook my head in a clear rejection of Leo’s call. Sato would smash a fastball.
Leo repeated the call, however.Four seam fastball. High outside.
I didn’t want to reject him again. I had to trust Leo.
I threw what the doctor ordered, a fastball high and tight. Ball one.
By the time the ball returned to my glove, Leo already had the next call. Damn he was quick. Slider.
Do what the man asks or he’s gonna lay you out after the game.
No. Wrong thought. Although I did laugh to myself. People probably thought I was crazy.
I threw a perfectly executed slider that broke sharp. Strike one.
Fastball, Leo demanded. Yessir.
And I threw what he wanted, a fastball on the outside corner. Sato put everything he had into a swing that never made contact. Strike two.
Leo had that head-nodding thing going again, as if he could send me a message without speaking. All right. I was sensing his spirit. I liked the energy. I could feel the first strings of a connection forming. All they wanted was a strong battery, the perfect relationship between a catcher and pitcher. I could do that.
Changeup. Down and away.
“Comin’ right up,” I mumbled to myself.
I concentrated for a heartbeat. Let the moment extend into infinity as the power of instinct tracked the time. Windup, throw, and…
A perfect changeup, down and away. Sato swung with great enthusiasm. Alas, his bat touched nothing but the sweet, crisp Lexington air. Strike three.
I was in the corridor connecting to the bullpen before anyone could stop me. Romo made it clear he wanted to say something. I’d probably take a hit for that. I still had the next inning and, hopefully, the one after.
The pitching manager had the phone in his hand by the time I arrived. “Hill, you can’t just walk away like that. You gotta stay behind. Spartan wants to talk to you.”
I cursed myself. Yep, I’d take a hit for sure. “Hey, boss,” I said into the receiver.
“It’s your prerogative to question me,” Leo said, and he didn’t sound happy, “but you need to really be sure of yourself when you do. Were you absolutely certain a fastball wasn’t the best throw?”
I realized he wasn’t scolding me. That’s just how he sounded. This was a teaching moment. “Sato is a hell of a hitter. I didn’t want to gift wrap him a homer.”
“So you were afraid?”
I opened my mouth in abject defense of being called a coward. Then snapped my jaw shut.
“Hill, until we communicate like Professor X, you need to trust me. All right?”
I nodded, as if he could see. “Crystal clear.”
“Good. See you shortly.”
*
The bottom of the fifth came faster than I had anticipated. Cinnamon burned through my mouth as I took the mound again. I had my eyes on Leo as the Winds’ catcher, O’Brien, stepped up to the plate. He was an unknown, recently elevated from the minors, like me. Could Leo read him like he could the others?
Fastball. Up and in.
But my fastball leaked over the plate and O’Brien singled on a line drive to left field. Okay, not the best start to the inning.
