Page 63 of Comeback
If him standing on the pitcher’s mound at a postseason game isn’t proof of that, I don’t know what is.
The first pitch is outside but fast enough that the announcers comment on it.
“Wooweee. That is going to be hard to hit if he can keep it straight,” one says. Then they must pull up his bio because they start talking about him being an Arizona native who played one year of college ball before being drafted by the Twins.
I hear each fact like it isn’t my baby brother and still it fills me with awe.
The catcher tosses the ball back to Flynn, who spins it in his hand as he returns to position. He adjusts his hat and continues palming the ball as he communicates with the catcher. He shakes off the first signal and then nods. He winds up and throws another cannon.
The umpire yells, “Striiike!”
The crowd screams for him and Brogan finally lets out a whoosh of air.
“Fuck yeah, baby Holland.”
“He hates when you call him that,” I say, but a grin tugs at my lips.
“That’s what big brothers are for.”
I chuckle and nod. He’s right. Hendrick and Knox tortured me plenty, but they were always cheering me on too.
Flynn throws for three innings. It’s not a bad start, but when he gives up three base hits in a row and then walks the next batter, he looks rattled for the first time all night.
His next pitch is wild, and the Twins call a timeout. The coach walks out to the mound. Flynn’s gaze is downcast as the coach speaks to him. We all know it’s coming, but it’s still disappointing when they bring out another pitcher.
“Nice job.” Brogan claps for him like Flynn can hear or see him. But fuck it, I join in, and we clap as our youngest brother leaves the field.
We finish watching the game, but it’s not as interesting to us without Flynn. The Twins hang on for a win, tying up the series.
“Think he’ll get another shot?” I ask as we walk up to our rooms.
“Definitely,” Brogan says as he flashes the key card in front of the lock. It beeps and turns green before he pushes it open. “See you in the morning.”
In my own room, I toss my hat on the dresser and remove my shirt. I do the same with my shoes and jeans. As I climb into bed, I fire off another text to the brothers’ chat congratulating Flynn.
I wish I could have been there. Knox made it and that seemed fitting since he was the one that stepped into the father role the most for Flynn. After Mom died, our lives changed a lot. Dad, who was never around that much to start with, came around even less. For a while it was often enough that we could manage in his absence.
But then Hendrick graduated high school and went off to play college ball, and without Dad, or our oldest brother, Knox had to step up.
I was still young enough that I didn’t quite understand then the sacrifices he had to make, but looking back now I’m not sure how he did it without resenting us all.
Our group chat is already blowing up when I pull out my phone. I smile at the newest group name for our brother chat, which is most definitely Brogan’s doing.
Flynn Holland Fan Club
Brogan
BABY HOLLAND! You were on fire!
Hendrick
Great job, bro. Everyone at the bar was cheering you on!
Knox
You should have heard the crowd. They love him already.
Brogan
