The Closer (18 page)

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Authors: Alan Mindell

BOOK: The Closer
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"That's an invitation," Murdoch answered.

*****

Evidently none of Billy's pitching talent rubbed off on Terry. Not later that night in Texas, anyway. No doubt his just being in Texas had plenty to do with it. His unpleasant memories here before the trade. The possibility that, based on recent performance, he could wind up here again—back in the minor leagues. And naturally, just to reinforce all this, it was a very hot August night.

Trudging off the mound after blowing his third consecutive save, he took no consolation from the fact this outing was actually a slight improvement over the two previous. In those, he failed to retire a single batter. All eight men reached base safely. Tonight, of the four batters he faced, one at least did not reach base. The one who hit a 350 foot line out to center field. A sacrifice fly that drove in the winning run.

 

"Maybe someone else should be closing," Terry told Rick.

"You're the closer."

"I haven't been doing the job."

"You're the closer," Rick repeated.

The two men stood silently a moment, in the visiting manager's office at Chicago Stadium, half an hour before their game. Terry had purposely waited until they left Texas to confer with him, almost certain nothing positive could ever occur there. Also, he hoped Rick's mood would improve with a change in scene, since Oakland had just lost three straight in Texas, dropping them five games behind in their division, three and a half for the wild card.

"Spot anything I'm doing wrong?" Terry asked.

"No, except your concentration."

The two men looked at each other. Terry could tell Rick wasn't happy. Why should he be? His team was in a losing streak. And his closer had lost his concentration.

"Can't expect to be the closer," Terry said grimly, "if I'm not doing the job."

"You've done the job," Rick responded emphatically. "Even you don't get another save the rest of the season."

Terry didn't reply.

"Where would we be without you? You've taken the pressure off the other pitchers. Starters know all they have to do is throw six, seven good innings. And the other relievers—they know they get the game to you, we got a solid chance to win."

"Not lately."

"Okay...so you had a couple bad outings. But that doesn't change things. Everyone still thinks the same way. They get the game to you, you're gonna finish it."

Terry was silent.

"Long as I'm the manager," Rick declared, "you're the closer."

When he walked onto the Chicago Stadium field ten minutes later, Terry felt much better. His manager had confidence in him. Maybe that would make a difference in his next performance.

 

It didn't. Not that the Chicago batters had anything to do with it. No, for all intents, Oakland could just as easily been playing in Detroit or Cleveland or New York. Simply put, the Chicago batters never had a chance to hit. Before Rick removed him from the game, Terry walked the only three he faced. On twelve straight pitches out of the strike zone.

Franks, his replacement, also failed this time. He inherited a 6-3 lead, albeit with the bases loaded, thanks to Terry. A double and two singles later, Oakland had lost 7-6.

Afterward, Terry remained in the dugout, sitting by himself. For some reason he remembered his appearance on postgame television, when the announcer mentioned the rookie of the year award. What a joke! What a difference a couple of weeks could make! At this rate, he might not last the season, whether Rick believed in him or not.

One thing for certain, no way the award would be given to someone who finished the season back in the minor leagues.

 

"Do the kids know?" Terry asked Lauren.

"Yes," she answered softly.

Silence followed, except for the mingled sounds of baseball and music coming from the children's rooms. The road trip had finally ended, and they both were sitting in their regular place, on her living room couch. He touched her forearm as he spoke again.

"What do they know?"

"That there are times when I don't feel well. That I might be going to the hospital. That I might not be coming home."

His only response was a shake of his head. How could things have gone so bad so quickly? His pitching career in the tank. And far worse, the news about her.

"I told them," she went on with resignation in her voice, "that sooner or later it happens to everyone."

"They understand?"

"I think so. One consolation, unlike with their father, with me they will at least have had some warning."

"I don't think that's much consolation," he said sadly.

She nodded.

"What about Tammy?" he asked. "She's a little young to make sense of all this."

"I told her that after the hospital maybe I'd go off to some strange faraway land."

It was his turn to nod.

"Of course," she added, smiling faintly, "she wanted to go with me to the faraway land."

He smiled also. He decided to discontinue his probing, especially since the evening, at least until now, had gone so well.

The circus was in town. Much earlier, they had taken the children. Surprisingly, Karen enjoyed it the most. For some reason, she'd felt instant affinity with the trapeze artists. Following the performance, with Terry's help, she'd even gotten autographs from them.

After the circus, they had stopped for hamburgers. Then for ice cream at a little parlor. Back at the house, Terry had willingly provided equal time between Billy's room and the girls', listening first to baseball, then to music.

"I didn't realize Karen was drawn to danger," he told Lauren, recalling her attraction to the trapeze artists.

"I don't think she is. She just likes people who are."

"I guess we have that in common."

But his last words diminished in volume. For his interest in conversation was declining in proportion to his increase in interest in her, sitting beside him. Yes, she looked sad from their conversation and tired from their earlier activities, yet she still looked very pretty to him. As he gazed at her, he noticed her nose and her neck, and how feminine they appeared.

He touched her neck and gently drew her toward him. He hugged her. Then he kissed her. She responded, at least at first. As louder sounds came from the children's rooms, however, she pulled away.

"The kids..." she said. "I'm afraid this isn't the right time."

"
Time
, Lauren," he reacted strongly. "Who knows how much we have left?"

What happened next possibly could only be explained by all his recent frustrations. Her illness. Carly's problems. His own awful pitching. It certainly was far from his style to force himself on anyone.

But that's exactly what he did. He tried to kiss her again. And again. She kept pushing him away.

Finally she angrily got up off the couch. He angrily got up too, and headed for the door. She made no attempt to walk him there, nor did either of them speak a single word. He didn't even say good bye to the kids.

As he closed the door behind himself, once more he heard the mingled sounds of baseball and music coming from their rooms.

 

Terry spent most of the next day brooding about his behavior at Lauren's. Fortunately, there was a game that night, so he could get his mind off things for a while. Fortunately, he didn't have to pitch, so he couldn't add to his streak of ineffectiveness. Unfortunately, Oakland lost again, a 9-2 thrashing at the hands of Toronto.

After the game, he drove home with Collie Quinn, who mentioned that he'd lined up a couple of women. One was for him, Collie, and the other was for Jack O'Rourke. O'Rourke, though, had to stay and get treatment on a temperamental hamstring. Would he, Terry, like to substitute? In his dismal mental state, Terry reluctantly accepted.

"You won't be sorry," Collie said. "She's a knockout."

"Why don't
you
take her then?"

"Wish I could. But I'd lose my source."

"Your source your girl?" Terry asked.

"You got it."

Collie turned out right, Terry's woman
was
a knockout. She was in her mid-twenties, blonde, busty and had long alluring legs. The last item was evident while she and her partner, a brunette who was not nearly as attractive, did a sort of striptease in the middle of Collie's bedroom floor.

Loud music was playing. Terry and Collie each sat on a bed on opposite sides of the room. Terry watched Collie as he definitely watched
his
girl much more than he watched his own. The women were tossing clothing everywhere. With each article, Terry was growing more depressed as he kept flashing back to last night with Lauren.

"You're absolutely in the big leagues now, Terry," Collie shouted gleefully across the room. His unkempt long red hair flowed as he bent down to snatch a couple of female clothing items.

The women finished their dance. Nearly in a state of undress, they scurried into a bathroom. Terry motioned for Collie to turn down the music. He obliged.

"Wish we could trade, man," Collie said, his tongue practically hanging out. "Love that blonde."

"I've got a better idea."

"What?"

"You can have them both," Terry spoke firmly while getting up off the bed and heading for the door.

"Hey man, where you goin'?"

"To my place."

"Want me to send the blonde over?"

"No," Terry sounded even more definite.

"Hey man, what do I do with
two
women?"

"Same thing you'd do with one, except have
twice
the fun."

Terry opened the door and shut it firmly behind himself.

Chapter Twenty-Four

"Back off!" Murdoch exclaimed. "No way! I'd go full speed ahead. On both counts."

"But I'm not getting anywhere with her, and I hurt the team every time I pitch."

The two of them were sitting across a corner table from each other in an expensive Italian restaurant with red and white cotton tablecloths and photographs of various locales in Italy on the walls. Terry had already informed Murdoch of the episode with Lauren, and his discussion with Rick about remaining the closer. Plus that, in both areas, he was inclined to retreat. Revelations that caused Murdoch's strong reaction.

"Let's start with baseball," Murdoch advised, aggressively digging his fork into a large plate of spaghetti.

"Okay," Terry replied, showing much less appetite for a ravioli dish.

"That first slump is key to staying in the big leagues. Guys who can't hang in there and fight their way through end up back in the minors."

Terry didn't reply. Instead he gazed between his ravioli and Murdoch.

"Same with Lauren," Murdoch continued. "You got to be patient and fight your way through."

"She acts like she doesn't want me," Terry replied sadly.

"She say that?"

"Not in so many words."

"I read her right," Murdoch said, about to ingest a huge forkful of spaghetti, "she's damn proud. Hates the idea of sympathy."

"You read her right."

"And you want to back off...?"

Terry shrugged.

"How'll she interpret that?"

Terry shrugged again.

"I'll tell you how. That you really don't care. That you're not willing to hang in and fight this thing through. And no question in my mind she's worth it."

Terry sensed that Murdoch was about to say more. That he was aware of things that he could reveal. But, he kept quiet at that point.

Meanwhile, Terry's only response was to poke at a piece of ravioli with his fork. He felt full, despite over half his dinner remaining. Murdoch quickly devoured the rest of his food, and then glanced at Terry's as if he intended to finish it too.

"I say you
escalate
," he declared, motioning for their waiter.

"Escalate?" Terry questioned. "How?"

"I'll leave that up to you."

Murdoch did end up eating most of the rest of Terry's meal. When their waiter came over, he requested a slice of apple pie with three scoops of ice cream, and seemed very disappointed when Terry declined to order dessert.

 

More than two weeks had passed since Lauren's awful disclosure. During that time, Terry had done only sporadic research on the subject of lupus. The very next day following the dinner with Murdoch, though, he spent the entire morning and early afternoon in the library, exploring the disease via books and computer.

What he found was lupus was an auto-immune disorder. Women were by far its most likely victims. It was both chronic and incurable.

There was some good news, however. The disease rarely caused death. It wasn't transmittable, and there was no evidence of it being hereditary.

These favorable items, though, were fearsomely offset by his findings on lupus and blood clots. Yes, they could be a problem. And yes, they could be fatal.

When he left the library, Terry certainly felt no better than when he got there.

 

Terry listened as the phone rang on the other end. He anticipated Lauren's voice. Instead, it was Karen who answered with a hello.

"Hi, Karen. Is your mama there?"

"Hi, Terry. She doesn't feel very well. She's taking a nap."

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