Double Play (28 page)

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Authors: Jen Estes

Tags: #Maine, #journalist, #womens rights, #yankee, #civil was, #sea captian

BOOK: Double Play
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Damien was a Zeppelin fan.”


Do
you know how long this song is?”


It
could be worse. ‘Achilles Last Stand,’ for example.” She playfully
jabbed him with her elbow.

The tribute came
to an end with a standing ovation from the crowd. After two
straight minutes of applause, the PA addresser asked for a moment
of silence. It was followed with another prolonged round of
clapping. Finally, Roger escorted Melissa back inside and the
grounds crew began to prepare the field.

Spencer whispered
under this breath, “Play ball.”

 

 

Chapter 20


Here
I thought we already did the moment of silence.”

Cat, who was
trying not to gr
ind
her
teeth, ignore
d
Spencer.
After starting the game with a raucous roar, the hometown fans had
fallen silent. She understood their emotional exhaustion. The
starting pitching had begat a bullpen battle and now they were in
the bottom of the ninth inning with a tied score of
zero.

Spencer had been
one-lining like he was Henny Youngman all game long, but Cat
couldn’t muster up much in response other than polite smiles and
nods.

As the batter at
the plate swung and missed for the third out, Spencer groaned.
“This is crazy. I can’t remember the last time I saw a playoff game
go into extra innings with goose eggs.”


Four
years ago,
championship series,
game 2,
Las Vegas
versus New York.”

Spencer lightly
tapped on her forehead with his index finger. “What else you got up
there? Can you check my credit card balance?”


I
covered the game for a sports blog.” She sighed and longingly gazed
out to the field. “Which might be my job once again if the Soldiers
don’t win tonight.”


No
way. You’re not going to get fired for one lousy poker
game.”

Cat glanced
around the press box to make sure their conversation was private.
“Spencer, you know how these fans are. If they call for my head,
Roger Aiken won’t have a choice.”


Roger
Aiken loves you. He always calls on you first at pressers and
answers every question you ask.” Spencer’s smile twisted. “Even
when the
News Herald
guy has had his hand up for forty
straight minutes.”

Cat knew Spencer
was kidding, but she didn’t doubt there were colleagues who took
issue with the close relationship she had with Roger. The former
player turned general manager had given her a chance last winter
under the quid pro quo of babysitting his party girl daughter
during an internship down at the Santo Domingo training camp. When
Cat had ousted the girl’s boyfriend as a dirty agent and inspired
his daughter to change her ways, Roger had wanted to make her team
president. She didn’t think she’d ever find her job in jeopardy as
long as he was in charge. Of course, that was before Quinn had
showed up.

Now, in the tenth
inning, her job and the Soldiers’ season were on borrowed time.
With the heart of Chicago’s order up now and the Buffalo’s best
hitters due to come to the plate at the bottom half of the inning,
the Soldiers’ manager brought in his best bullpen pitcher, Adam
Alvarez. It was clear the manager didn’t plan on there being an
eleventh inning. He wanted AA to finish off Chicago so his guys
could find a way to score a walkoff win.

When Adam Alvarez
gave up a single on the first pitch, Cat didn’t say a word. She
could feel Spencer staring at her, but couldn’t take her eyes off
the game. Then he gave up another hit. She merely took a deep
breath. The lead runner would score the go-ahead run with only one
more single. There were no outs, so if she were Chicago, she’d bunt
the runner over to third and hit a sacrifice fly to bring him home.
She surveyed the field, trying to decipher if that’s what they were
going to do.

Instead, the
Soldiers’ pitching coach came charging out of the dugout and met
Adam, the catcher and the infielders on the mound. Cat drummed her
fingers on the desktop.


Maybe
the couple days off did more harm than good.”


You
think?” She winced when she heard how harsh it sounded and offered
Spencer a helpless smile.

He gave her a pat
on the back. “They’ve gotten out of worse situations than
this.”

The head umpire
hurried to the mound and broke up the meeting. He’d barely given
them thirty seconds for their conference, but umpires tended to get
stingy as the innings went into extras.


Someone’s got dinner reservations,” Spencer said.

The players
scurried back to their positions, while the pitching coach strolled
back
into the dugout.
Adam took a deep breath and threw the pitch.

The first pitch
looked good, but the ump called it a ball. The Soldiers’ fans broke
their silence, jumping to their feet and booing. Cat watched the
replay on the flat screen that hung on the wall. The ump got the
call right; it was a smidge off the outside corner. The next pitch
was nearly a foot off the plate, and the Soldiers’ catcher nearly
dislocated his shoulder snagging it. It was still a ball, but by
catching it, he kept the runners at first and second. He hopped out
of his squatted position and ran to the mound, mumbling something
under his mitt to Adam. He hurried back and Adam threw the next
pitch.

Strike
one.

Finally
.

The batter
stepped out of the box and scooted the dirt under his cleats,
muttering disagreement to the umpire in the least obvious of ways
because with a runner in scoring position, the last thing a player
wanted was to be ejected for arguing balls and strikes. Cat turned
to catch the replay. The batter had reason to be upset; it had been
a pity strike. Any other day, it would’ve been a ball.


Caught a break there,” she murmured to Spencer.


Thank
God. What is wrong with AA?”

The disgruntled
player stepped back in the box and Adam threw another pitch. This
time it was not only outside, but also a little high. The count was
now three balls to one strike. If there was ever a time for Adam to
throw his lights-out fastball, this was it. Instead, he threw a
splitter that bounced in the dirt in front of home plate. The
batter lay off of it and was rewarded with a free base.

Bases loaded. No
outs.


Oh
jeez.” Spencer buried his hands in his head.

With the blink of
an eye, the Soldiers’ manager burst out of the dugout and rushed
the mound. Cat frowned. His anger had gotten the best of him and as
a result, strategy would suffer. Normally managers would take a
leisurely stroll to the mound, each heavy footstep giving his
bullpen an extra pitch to warm up. Instead, the Soldiers’ manager
was already confronting Adam. Amid the boos of the stadium, he
ripped the baseball out of the closer’s hand and sent Adam trudging
toward the dugout. The fans weren’t letting AA off the hook this
time. They pointed their fingers, waved their arms and screamed,
their faces angry and red beneath their stocking caps.

Adam’s
replacement, Dan Santiago, had been a closer himself—ten years ago.
Now the veteran hurler was an afterthought in the bullpen, sought
after more for his wisdom than his arm. He made a good role model
for the young kids, but this would probably be his last season as a
player.


This
pitching change brought to you by the AARP.”

Cat granted
Spencer a stingy smile and then resumed her frown. “Bases loaded,
no outs. We’re so screwed.”


Nah!
In Santiago’s day, the trip from the bullpen was five miles uphill
both ways, in the snow, barefoot. This is nothing for
him.”

She rolled her
eyes. “Laugh it up, Chuckles, but Chicago’s ninety feet away from
ending our season.”

Cat held her
breath as the first pitch was thrown. It was a fastball and the
batter swung and missed for an undisputable strike. He fouled off
the next pitch, bringing the strike count to two and putting the
at-bat in the pitcher’s favor. Santiago took his chances with a
curveball and the batter bounced it to the shortstop, who flipped
it to second base. From there it zipped to first for a
quintessential 6-4-3 double play.


Two
for the price of one.” Spencer pumped his fist.

It was a deal any
team would take in a bases-loaded situation, but while Buffalo was
getting the two outs, the runner on third had scored the go-ahead
run, meaning that as long as Chicago could hold onto the lead in
the bottom of the inning, the game was theirs. Worse yet, their
best hitter was stepping into the box.

Before she could
panic or Spencer could make another quip, the fastball left the
mound and flew off his bat, soaring over the infield.

She cringed as
the ball continued, seemingly destined for the
bleachers.

Spencer jumped to
his feet. “Going … going ….”


Caught.”

She grinned as
the ball was snatched from home run distance by the Soldiers’
centerfielder.

The stadium went
wild as the players jogged into the dugout. Considering the
situation Adam Alvarez had gotten them into, they were lucky to
come out of the inning only one run behind. The game wasn’t over
yet.

 

Baseball is a
funny game
.

Whatever way the
game went, that was going to be her opening line for the recap.
Fifteen minutes ago, the fans were ready to take off in order to
beat the traffic out of the ballpark. Now, as the scoreboard showed
no outs and Buffalo had a runner on first, second and
third—completely mimicking Chicago by loading the bases with no
outs—the stadium was ready to celebrate victory. At the very least,
they had an excellent shot of tying the game and sending it into an
eleventh inning.

Unlike the
Soldiers though, Chicago wasn’t ready to pull the plug on their
pitcher after he managed to get Buffalo’s catcher to foul out. Joel
Faulk had already played hero once in this series and he was
stepping up to the plate to do it again. With one out in the game,
he would no doubt be called upon to bunt, and Chicago knew it. The
defenders crept closer to the plate in anticipation. The Soldiers’
runner on third broke for home as Chicago’s pitcher began his
delivery to Joel. Joel squared to bunt the pitch for a suicide
squeeze
. It would result in an
out for him, but
his only job in this play was to make
contact with the ball
so the
runner on third base could score
. It didn’t matter where the
pitch was; he had to get his bat on it. Failure to do so would make
the runner trying to score a sitting duck.

The ball left the
pitcher’s hand.

Instead of
bunting the low pitch, Joel sloppily pulled his bat
back.

Gasps abounded
throughout the press box.

Spencer
groaned.

The runner coming
home from third couldn’t turn around and Chicago’s catcher gently
tagged him out at home. There was nothing else that could be done.
He was a sitting duck, but worse, he was also the second
out.

Cat merely closed
her eyes. She didn’t want to see the replay and she didn’t need to.
That misplay would be engraved in her memory for years to
come.


What
the hell was that?”


Did
he not understand the sign?”


What
is wrong with that kid?”

Cat and Spencer
each vied to outdo the other in degrees of bewilderment. When she
gaped, he shook his head. She blinked, he dropped his head. She
slapped her forehead, he clasped his hands around his neck to mimic
choking. She finally smiled and bowed in deference.

The press box
simmered down with the next pitch. Joel still had a chance to
redeem himself with a hit. Instead, he stared at a fastball down
the middle of the plate for strike two.

Cat clasped her
hands together and rested her chin on her white knuckles. They just
needed one hit, one lousy hit. The pitch was thrown and Joel swung.
Making contact, the ball dribbled out in front of home plate, right
into the glove of Chicago’s reliever. He scooped it up and tossed
it over to first base before Joel was even halfway down the
baseline.

The season was
over.

The reporters
began to rush out of the press box, but Cat just stared at the
field. Players poured out of the visitor’s dugout and rushed the
mound with their teammates. The Soldiers slumped into their own
dugout. In the stands, clusters of orange jerseys made their way to
the exits, while the
blue-jerseyed fans
danced in the aisles.

Cat’s cellphone
buzzed, but she ignored it. It was surely just Benji trying to
cheer her up, but he wasn’t a sports fan. He didn’t understand how
seriously a true fan took this game. She’d once described it to him
as planting a flower seed, watering it every day and tending to it
for six months, only to have someone else come along and pluck it
just before it bloomed. His response was a lecture on seed dormancy
and germination.

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