Page 56 of Fastball Fever
The next few innings pass in a blur of concentration and sweat.The score remains tied at zero, a pitcher's duel between me and Vega.My fastball is working well today, hitting corners with precision.But I'm having to work twice as hard with those torpedo bats in play.Every pitch needs to be perfect.
By the sixth inning, fatigue starts creeping in.The thin mountain air doesn't help, though I'm still unsure of how much the elevation in Aspen could possibly affect us.Every breath seems to deliver less oxygen than I need.But I refuse to show weakness, especially to Decker, who's due up third this inning.
The first batter grounds out to first, an easy play.I strike out the second batter on four pitches.Then Decker swaggers to the plate, that damned torpedo bat resting casually on his shoulder.
"Getting tired, Braddock?"he calls out, his voice carrying across the diamond."That mountain air's no joke, huh?"
I ignore the taunt, focusing instead on Tripp's signals.Fastball away.I shake my head.Curve?Another shake.Slider.That's the one.
I wind up and deliver, putting everything I have into the pitch.The ball spins toward the plate, breaking sharply at the last moment.But Decker's ready.The torpedo bat connects with a sound that's different from normal wood—deeper, more resonant.The ball rockets toward left field, a line drive that keeps rising.
My heart sinks as I watch it sail over the fence.Home run.The Altitude fans erupt in cheers as Decker rounds the bases with a triumphant fist pump.
1-0, Altitude.
Despite our best efforts, we lose the game.But this is only game one in the series.
Amy sits down beside me in the dugout."You lost one game, Charlie.It's not the end of the world."
"Yeah, but our next game is here in Aspen too.I'm completely exhausted."I swipe my jersey over my face, mopping up the sweat."We've played at Altitude Stadium before, but something's different this time."
"Maybe you're anxious about the torpedo bats."
I shrug.Who the hell knows what the problem really is?
Amy clasps my hand."Listen to me, Charlie.The team needs a different kind of training, that's all.You guys need proper hydration and nutrition.Some altitude simulation training might help too.By the time we play the next game, the whole team will be ready."
She always knows what to do and say.But I need to point out the obvious."We can't overcome the torpedo bats.The Admirals haven't practiced with those."
"So, we'll practice."
The more I think about the problem, the less certain I am that altitude alone slowed down our best players today.What else could it be?Maybe I'd better talk to Phil and Ray about that.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
The World Series, Pt.2
The Admirals won game two, but game three was held at Altitude Stadium.We lost again.The whole team has been doing everything Amy suggested, yet we still can't catch a break.And I can't stop thinking about our bizarre loss of performance—or maybe it's deliberate.Not by our team.But someone who wants to win the World Series badly enough to…I don't know what someone might do.
I glance over at Amy in the dugout, concentration etched on her face as she scribbles something in her notebook.She's been analyzing every play, every swing, studying the Altitude like they're a complex math problem she's determined to solve.Despite our losses, the team respects her for it.Hell, I respect her for it.
"Something's off with our batting," I complain, joining her on the bench."Nothing helps.It's like we all just get…woozy."
She doesn't look up from her notebook."You noticed too?"
"Hard not to.Their contact rate is through the roof compared to our regular season matchups."
Finally, she meets my gaze."I've been tracking their slugging percentage.It's up almost fifteen percent since the playoffs started."
The stadium roars as another Altitude player rounds the bases.I clench my jaw, watching their dugout erupt in celebration.
"Maybe they're just hot right now," I suggest, but I don't believe it.Neither does Amy, judging by the skeptical look she gives me.
"Charlie, when was the last time you saw an entire team suddenly improve this dramatically?"She taps her pen on her notebook."Something isn't adding up."
I lean forward, elbows resting on my knees, watching their pitcher wind up."What are you thinking?"
"Not sure yet."She closes her notebook and slides it into her bag."But I want to check something.After the game, meet me by their equipment room."
