Page 71 of Fastball Fever
I step up to the altar, trying not to fidget as guests fill the rows of white chairs.I spot several of my Admirals teammates, all looking uncharacteristically polished in their suits.Even Phil and Ray are here, looking more comfortable than I would've expected.Those guys were the ones who insisted Amy should take me on as a special project back when my career was circling the drain.Phil saw something in me that I'd forgotten was there.
The string quartet begins to play, and my heart rate doubles.I wipe my palms on my pants, earning a sarcastically disapproving look from Teddy.
"Dude, keep it together," he murmurs.
"I'm trying," I mutter back.
The bridesmaids begin their procession, each one more beautiful than the last.Kaitlyn winks at me as she takes her place opposite Teddy.Then the music changes, and everyone rises.
And there she is.
My bride appears at the end of the aisle, her arm linked with her father's.Her dress is simple but stunning, hugging her athletic figure before flowing out around her feet.Her hair is swept up elegantly, a few tendrils framing her face.She looks like an angel, all grace and calmness.Amy smiles directly at me with that same focused look she gets when she's calling plays from the dugout.It's a look that says she sees exactly what she wants and knows how to get it.
My nervousness evaporates, replaced by a certainty so profound it feels like I'm standing on the mound with a perfect grip on my fastball.This is where I'm supposed to be.
Amy glides toward me, every step purposeful and graceful.When she reaches the altar, her father kisses her cheek and places her hand in mine.
She winks."Hey, slugger."
I smile."Hey, Coach."
Her hand is warm in mine as we turn to face the officiant.The world narrows to just us—me and Amy in this perfect moment.
"Dearly beloved," the officiant begins, but his words blur as I gaze at Amy's profile.The determined set of her jaw, the slight curve of her lips, the way the sunlight catches her hair—I'm memorizing every detail.When it's time for vows, I reach into my pocket for the paper, but something stops me.I let my fingers slip away from the carefully written words.
I gaze directly into her eyes and speak from the heart."Amy, I had this whole speech prepared.But standing here looking at you, I realize no script could capture what I feel for you.I came to you broken—a pitcher who'd lost his confidence, his fastball, and his way.But you saw something worth saving.You pushed me harder than anyone ever has, believed in me when I couldn't believe in myself."
I take a moment to gather my remaining thoughts, but Amy doesn't seem to mind the small delay.As I gaze deeply into her eyes, I can feel her love like a palpable force.I give her hands a light squeeze.
"Before you, baseball was just about me—my stats, my career, my ego.You taught me it's about something bigger.It's about trust and teamwork and fighting for something together."I suck in a breath, releasing it in a rush."That's what I'm promising you today.To be your teammate in everything.To have your back in every inning of our life together."
A tear slides down Amy's cheek, but her smile never wavers.That's my coach—emotional but unbreakable.
"I love you, Amy Keller.Not just because you saved my career, but because you made me want to be better—as a player and as a man."
Amy's eyes shine with unshed tears, but her voice is unwavering as she begins her vows.Pure Amy, composed under pressure.She twines her fingers with mine."Charlie Braddock, when the team brought you in, I saw a pitcher with a million-dollar arm and a ten-cent head."
The crowd laughs, and I can't help but join them.It's true.
"I thought I could fix your mechanics.I never expected you to fix my heart."Her voice softens."I've spent my life studying the science of this game—velocity, spin rate, release points.But loving you?That defies all analysis."You taught me that sometimes the most beautiful plays aren't the ones you diagram on a clipboard.They're the ones that happen when you trust someone enough to improvise."
Suddenly, I've got a lump in my throat.But it feels…good.
Amy's lip curl into the sweetest smile."I promise to be your biggest fan and your toughest critic.To celebrate your wins and help you through the losses.To build our team—our family—with the same dedication we bring to the field every day.And I promise never to call time out when the game gets tough."
The officiant seems genuinely moved."The rings, please."
My best man hands them over, and I slide the simple platinum band onto Amy's finger right in front of the engagement ring.She slips my ring on, tears glistening in her eyes.The weight of the ring feels right, like the perfect grip on a baseball—something that belongs there.
"By the power vested in me," the officiant says, "I now pronounce you husband and wife.You may kiss the bride."
I don't hesitate.I haul Amy into me, one hand at her waist, the other cradling her face.Our lips collide, and the crowd erupts in cheers and applause.I can pick out the distinct whoops and hollers of my teammates, who aren't exactly known for their subtlety.
When we finally peel our lips apart, Amy says, "Nice execution, Braddock."
"I had a great coach."
We whirl around to face our guests as the officiant announces, "Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you Mr.and Mrs.Braddock!"
