Page 21 of Fastball Fever
The batter steps up to the plate, and I struggle to maintain a neutral expression when I actually want to grin at Amy and make rude faces at the Assitudes.Yeah, that's a little childish.But I'm feeling the groove for the first time in months, and the vibe is amazing.It takes a second for me to realize who's facing off with me.
It's Jared Morris, batting in the number one spot tonight.
Someone's gotten cocky.His smirk tells me without words that he thinks I've lost it.But before he can open his smart mouth, I wind up and hurl the ball with everything I've got.
The satisfying sound of a strike zipping past him fills the night air.Jared's grin fades just a bit as he turns to Amy in mock surprise.
"Looks like you taught him more than knitting," the jackass quips loud enough for everyone to hear.
Oh, it's on now.I throw another fastball, watching Jared flinch ever so slightly before he swings and misses.
The crowd eats it up, roaring with every pitch.My shoulder protests with a dull ache, but I tune it out.You're in good shape, Charlie, but don't get overconfident.
My next pitch is the one Jared's been waiting for, and he smacks it toward left field.I hold my breath as our fielder bolts for the ball, snagging it just before it hits the ground.Jared jogs back to the dugout, shaking his head like it's all a big joke.Meanwhile, Amy's watching me with an expression I can't read.Satisfaction?Concern?I'm going with satisfaction.
The next few batters are a blur of strikes and easy outs.Every successful pitch boosts my confidence.We're up by three runs by the end of the second inning, and my self-assurance is soaring.If we keep up this pace, Amy won't stand a chance at saying no to staying with me.
Then, maybe ten minutes into the third, I feel it—an insistent throb moving through my shoulder and right down to my fingertips.The ache I was ignoring.It's back with a vengeance.
Fuck.
Amy catches my eye from her spot on the bench and taps her head, the signal to use my brain.
Slow down, pace yourself, don't be an idiot.I give Amy a curt nod and then hurl another pitch with everything I've got.The bat connects, a line drive past second base.Jared's on first, looking back at me with that stupid, knowing grin.My shoulder screams for me to stop, but I don't care.The stadium lights seem brighter suddenly, making it hard for me to focus on the catcher's signals.My vision blurs slightly, and for the first time tonight, anxiety creeps in.
Don't doubt yourself now, just power through it.But every pitch loses some heat.The next batter walks.Then another hits.Double play keeps us alive for a few outs before we're finally back in the dugout.I can't even look at Amy as she calls me over to her.
"You need to slow down, Charlie," she urges, grasping my arm.Her voice is firm but laced with worry."It's not worth getting injured again."
My throat tightens as I pull away from her grip.Am I ignoring the truth I don't want to admit?That I'm afraid I'll never get back to what I used to be?
"I'm fine," I insist, almost growling the words.My vanity won't let me say more.
She gives me a long, searching look that feels more like a lecture than any words could convey."Phil can call in someone else."
"Not happening."I grab a water bottle and guzzle down the whole contents, keeping my eyes anywhere except on her.
But inside, I'm panicking.Me, the fastball king.This was supposed to be my comeback, the night when everything falls back into place.Instead, every inning drags me deeper into self-doubt.The fourth inning starts off rocky.My velocity's way down, and the Assitudes take full advantage.Three runs in quick succession before we finally put a stop to their rally.
My shoulder feels like I have hot coals imbedded in there, and my mind's flooded with worst-case scenarios.Cut from the roster.Shipped off to God knows where.Amy leaving, just like she said she would if I can't make my pitches count.I slump onto the bench after the disastrous inning, avoiding eye contact with everyone.I can feel their judgment burning into me and I can taste my own failure in the air.
Jared makes the rounds in their dugout.
"Not bad for a dude with one arm!"he shouts across the field, riling up his teammates further.
The asshole's not wrong.
"Charlie," Amy calls out, but I shake my head before she can remind me to be smart and strategic.
"I need one more inning," I announce, cutting her off, barely recognizing my own strained voice.
"No—"
"One more inning!"Shouting isn't enough to convince her, but desperation might be."I can come back from this.You know I can."
She watches me carefully, trying to gauge if it's bullshit bravado or if there's anything left in my tank worth fighting for.
"Okay, one more."Her tone makes it clear it's a reluctant concession."But Charlie, I swear—"
