Page 57 of Knox
I hit a few balls before stepping back to reset. “So, how’s life been treating you?” I asked.
“It’s been good. Bouncing around the minors more than I’d like, though.”
“I hear that.” Even after I got my shot with the Rockies, I got sent down a couple of times. It sucked, but it was part of the game.
“I’d love to say I hope you stick around, but … you know.”
He nodded. “I’m just here to keep his seat warm and maybe hit a few bombs in the meantime.”
After Pearson and I switched places, I grabbed my phone and checked my messages. There was nothing. I knew Crew would reach out once he had information to share, but that didn’t stop me from worrying.
If he went on the IL, I’d have to go on our next road trip without him. We’d spent so long finding our way back to each other, I didn’t want baseball to be the thing that pulled us apart again.
22
CREW
I drovemy truck into the player lot and parked in the same spot I’d been using all season. Knox sat in the passenger seat with his arm resting across the console, close enough that his thumb brushed my leg every so often. I flexed my right hand against my thigh before shutting off the engine. It didn’t hurt as much as it did three days ago, but the stiffness hadn’t let up.
The X-rays had come back negative for broken bones, but the MRI showed I had sprained my index, middle, and ring fingers, and had a bone bruise too. They referred to it as ‘discomfort and inflammation’ in the official press release. The injury wouldn’t end my season, but it was enough for the Seawolves to put me on the ten-day IL and to render me ineligible for the All-Star game. It was funny how I had wished to stay home for the break, but I never thought it would be because I was injured.
When we climbed out, Knox grabbed his packed bag for the six-game road trip against the Dodgers and Giants. The team was heading to LA after the game and would be gone for eight days. Since I was sidelined, I wouldn’t be leaving with the teamafter the game, which was weird. It would be the first time I’d be catching the games on TV and not in person.
We approached the players’ entrance together, but inside, we split off by the clubhouse doors. He went into the locker room, while I made my way to the training room where Reynolds was waiting. I dropped onto the edge of the table and held my hand out for him to look over. I stretched my fingers and rotated my wrist while he pressed along each knuckle and checked the swelling. It wasn’t as tender as it had been, but it still hurt.
“It’s better than it was.” Reynolds moved my wrist again, slowly, then reached for the stim pads. “Still tight. You keep doing the exercises and you’ll be fine.”
“I have been, but it doesn’t always feel like it’s helping much.”
“That’s because you’re impatient. If you rush it, you’ll double how long I keep you out. Give it time. It hasn’t even been seventy-two hours.”
“I’m not trying to rush it, but it sucks sitting out, especially with the guys going on the road.”
“You know as well as I do that the season is long. You’ll be out there again before you know it.”
“Hope so.”
He hooked me up to the TENS machine that sent electrical nerve stimulation into my hand, and I watched my fingers twitch until the cycle finished. When he peeled everything off and wrapped me up in fresh tape, he gave me a stern look.
“You’re cleared for the dugout, but if I catch you trying to snag a foul ball, I’ll have you watching the game from your chair in the clubhouse.”
“You think I’d really do that?”
“You’re a catcher. I’d be an idiot not to warn you.”
“I’ll duck if a foul ball comes for my head.”
“Good plan.” We both laughed. “Let me get you an ice pack, and I want you to do twenty minutes on, ten off, and repeat three times.”
By the time I stepped out of the tunnel, the starters were already heading onto the field. Knox jogged out to first, Ramirez hustled to short, the outfielders peeled off to the grass, and Pearson got intomyposition behind the plate.
Matthewson came and stood beside me. “Good to have you down here.”
“Wish it was just my normal day off from behind the plate.” Though that would usually have me at first base unless I really needed the rest.
“Yeah. I know.” He didn’t say anything else. Didn’t need to. He knew what it was like because it was inevitable that every player would be injured at least once during his career. It was all part of the game, and how it took its toll on your body.
Knox looked over from first, his eyes locking with mine. He gave a small grin before turning back to the infield.
