Page 55 of Fake Love

I’m right there with them.

There are some people in the stands here today that think Maddox shouldn’t have been called up.

That he doesn’t deserve to play after using drugs.

I heard it as we were walking to our seats earlier. I saw it in all the comments online yesterday when news broke that Maddox was called up.

Fans don’t believe in him.

But right here, right now, I do. I believe in him, he just has to believe that he can.

First pitch gets thrown and I block out all noise and just listen to the TV in the suite and the TV announcers calling out the call.

A ball.

The ball gets thrown back to Maddox. He takes a second before he steps up once more to throw the next pitch.

Maddox whines up and lets the ball go and all you hear is the moment it hits the catcher's glove.

Ball two the announcers call out.

It’s okay, he can still get this batter out, no problem.

At least that’s what I keep telling myself as I watch Maddox get ready to throw a third pitch.

My eyes close the second that the ball releases from his hand and stay closed as I hear it hit the leather.

“Swing and a miss. One and two.” the announcer calls out, but my eyes stay closed.

“That was a beautiful curveball.” The second announcer voices and I would agree with him if I had seen it.

“It was. That curveball has become one of his staple pitches.”

I continue to listen, still not opening my eyes and seeing what is happening on field. Instead I let the announcers paint the picture.

“Here comes the whined up. Strike two.”

“Bauer looks good in Miners colors. Definitely a change from the white and blue.”

“There are just some guys that really know how to pull off the uniform, and he’s one of them.”

Oh my god, stop talking and just say what is happening on the field.

“And here’s the pitch.” There’s a pause in the talking and if I was sitting I would be at the edge of my seat. “Got him. That's the first strikeout for Maddox Bauer as a Miner.”

My eyes fly open just as the clapping from the stands starts. He struck out the batter.

I look down at Maddox, wishing I can yell something at him but knowing that he won’t hear me from up here.

The next batter is up and with four pitches, he is out just like his teammate before him.

When the third batter steps into the box, I don’t look out at the field but at the TV screen and watch his concentration as he is getting ready to throw the ball.

He’s in his element.

He’s where he belongs.

And by the small smile on his lips and the concentration in his eyes, he knows it.

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