Page 44 of Fastball Fever
Amy catches my eye again, grinning and fist-pumping.Just seeing her again gives me the biggest boost ever.Not only a hundred feet tall, but a thousand feet for sure.
I shake off the first signal from my catcher, then the second.I want my fastball for this—the pitch that's working like magic tonight.When I get the sign I want, I nod, wind up, and release.
The ball rockets toward home plate, but even as it leaves my fingertips, I know something's off.It hangs just a fraction too high, and Jared's eyes light up like it's Christmas morning.The crack of bat meeting ball echoes through the stadium, and the high I've enjoyed starts to dwindle.Time slows as I watch the ball sail toward center field, climbing higher and farther.Our center fielder backpedals, then stops and watches helplessly as the ball clears the fence.
Jared takes his time rounding the bases, arms raised in triumph.He makes sure to throw a cocky grin my way as he crosses home plate, pointing directly at me before high-fiving his teammates.
"That's how it's done, Little Chucky!"he calls out, his voice carrying across the field.
I grip the baseball tighter in my hand, fighting the urge to hurl it at his stupid grinning face.Amy jogs up beside me, her hand extended for the ball."Shake it off, Charlie.One run doesn't lose us the game.Just take a few slow, deep breaths, and then shake it off.Remember the mantra."
"I had him, Coach.I just—"
"I know.Your fastball was working perfectly—until it wasn't."
I inhale deeply, following her guidance despite the frustration boiling in my gut.And I recite the mantra—forget the world, forget the pressure, stay calm and balanced and the game is yours to win.
"Just do that thing we've been practicing.Find your center, and refocus," Amy reminds me.She hands me a new ball with a reassuring nod."You've got this, Charlie.I'd kiss you for good luck, but that might give Morris a chance to harass you again."
"I won't let him get to me ever again."
She moves closer as if to kiss me but stops halfway there.Instead of giving me a smooch, Amy speaks in a fierce tone."Now, you go get that rat bastard Jared Morris and grind his face into the dirt."
"You're so hot when you go demonic on Morris."I drop my voice to an even softer whisper."We'll definitely use that massage oil later."
Amy smirks over her shoulder at me as she jogs back to the bullpen.
I roll my shoulders and find my stance.A new batter is waiting and ready.I erase thoughts of Jared's home run from my mind.One bad pitch doesn't upset me.Not anymore.
The next batter goes down swinging on four pitches.Even with Morris's homer, we're still up 5-2.Not bad at all.I head back to the dugout with my head held high, teammates patting my back as I descend the steps.
"Don't sweat it, Charlie," Phil advises, offering me a cup of water."We're still up by three."
"I know."I gulp down a long drink."Thanks, Phil."
Amy jogs into the dugout—to check on me again, I'm sure.Amy Keller might be a tough coach, but she worries about me a little too much.Still, I love that she fusses over me.It's a sign of true love or something like that.
Okay, I secretly love it.And I need to marry that woman as soon as possible.She's my North Star, keeping me aimed in the right direction.
Coach Martinez eyes me from the other side of the dugout."How's the shoulder feeling, Braddock?"
"Good."And I'm not bullshitting.It's true.No twinges, no shooting pain, just the normal fatigue."I can go another inning, Coach."
"He's right," Amy concurs."Charlie's in better shape now than he was before the injury."
Martinez nods, apparently satisfied."We'll see about another inning.Depends on how our offense does."
Once I'm back on the field, for the eighth inning, I scan the crowd again.There's Alicia, back with the same guy—some tall dude in an expensive-looking suit.They're sitting a few rows behind our dugout.She waves to get my attention.I give her a slight wave too but keep my focus on the game.
The scoreboard shows we've added another run.Six to two—a comfortable lead, but baseball has a way of turning on a dime.I've seen too many late-inning collapses to get overconfident.
"Braddock, you're up for the eighth," Martinez confirms."Keep it tight, son."
"Will do, Coach."I stand and start my warm-up throws, feeling the pleasant stretch in my shoulder muscles.
Amy approaches with her clipboard, professional as always when others are watching."Your release point was a little high on that pitch to Morris.Keep your elbow tucked just a hair more."
"Got it."I make the adjustment with my next practice throw."Better?"
