Baseball Ch. 01: First Base

I was able to get through the rest of the game with only one other bobble, but this one i was able to toss to first, where the pitcher had covered the base for the out. I looked to Casey and she gave me a few claps for my trouble. The guy didn't look up.

In the top of the ninth inning, we were up 4-3. Ken came in to pitch, and from where I stood, I could see him getting a little flustered again. He walked one guy, then let him steal second, and now had a full count on the current batter. He looked over at me, and I gave him a confident nod. 'You can do this,' I tried to send him telepathically.

Then he looked in at the plate, got the sign and fired a fastball outside. The batter swung for strike three. One out. I clapped for him and so did the rest of the infielders, as well as most of the crowd. He then struck out the next batter on two fastballs and a curve. Now the crowd was louder, getting behind him. He looked more confident in the mound now.

The next batter smacked a liner right over my head. I leapt as high as I could, but I had no shot at catching it. The right fielder ran over to scoop it up, but the runner on second was able to score. The damage was done; the game was now tied at 4. Ken was able to retire another batter to end the inning there.

Ken was pissed at himself for blowing the lead, but we assured him it wasn't a big deal. He'd given up one walk and one hit, with two strikeouts, not a bad outing, just unlucky.

We went out for the bottom of the ninth, and I was batting second. The guy in front of me was struck out so bad and so fast it was almost hard to watch. He was swinging at garbage pitches. But it helped me know what to expect.

I stepped into the batter's box and dug in. I saw the look in that pitcher's eyes and recognized the apprehension and uncertainty that I see in others when I'm the catcher. His catcher wasn't doing anything to help him or calm him, which made the pitcher isolated and nervous.

I stood motionless as he threw three different pitches in three different locations. One too high, one near my feet, one way outside. Now he had to throw something right down the middle, and he did. I clobbered the ever-loving shit out of it, then watched it fly over the right field fence. My first Triple-A home run, to win the game.

The crowd went wild, and came to their feet as I rounded the bases. Casey cheered for me, and for the first time, the guy next to her looked up from his phone and clapped. I ignored him and saw my teammates streaming from the dugout, waiting to mob me at home plate.

After the showering and dressing, a few of the guys wanted to take me out to dinner. Who was I to turn that down? And despite my telling him it was unnecessary, Ken insisted on buying my drinks. Since he pointed out that we had Monday off, I decided to take him up on his offer.

I was riding high as we walked to The Bull Pen, a bar that was obviously a baseball pun. I didn't like it as much as Eddie's, as the drinks were more expensive here. As we were entering, I saw Casey across the street. She'd changed from her jersey and shorts into a classy cocktail dress. The guy she was with was escorting her into the fancy restaurant there, his hand on her back. She didn't see me.

That hurt. But, somewhere in my primordial man-brain, I decided that was fine. I had thought we might have had something brewing, but apparently I was vastly mistaken. Casey was taken by some rich guy, and he was more her type than I was. That's okay. I was walking into a bar where there were many single women waiting to meet the hero of today's game, the hitter of the walk off home run.

Two hours later, I was snuggled into a booth with a busty brunette team-chaser named Lola. To this day, I don't know that I ever got her last name. I just remember I'd been more than halfway drunk, kissing and nuzzling her neck, when Casey walked in. She saw me, gave me a funny look, and immediately left.

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To be continued...