Page 5 of Off Pitch

You coming or what, Harlow?

Harlow

Yeah, yeah

I just found my glittery Stars hat, and I’m walking out the door now

Beers in hand, I find my way down to our seats. Cole made sure he got our parents and me a set of four season tickets so we could catch as many games as we wanted with an extra ticket to share with whoever we chose. And since the seats are in the front row on the first baseline, we’re always right in on the action. Our parents don’t make it to many games so that usually leaves me with three tickets I can share with my friends.

When Lucia and Rory join me for any games, they’ll sit with me here. It works out well for Lucia since she’s an athletic trainer for the team. She needs to be able to get to the field if there’s an injury—these are the perfect seats for her to do that. Ella usually stays back during the games, but she’ll join us out here sometimes.

I originally started going to games because Cole wanted to. He had started playing Little League and wanted to see what the professionals looked like. The first game we watched saw the Stars beat the Atlanta Thunderbirds in a walk-off grand slam. I’ve been hooked ever since. I eat, sleep, and breathe baseball now.

That’s why I startedStarred and Fast. I don’t have any athletic ability, but I’m a voracious enjoyer. Why not use myknowledge of the sport and help fellow baseball enthusiasts who may not understand all the ins and outs learn about it? I have a number of male followers, but most of my readers are women—ones who started enjoying the sport later in life because of boyfriends, husbands, and friends. Through me, they obtain a better understanding of what’s happening.

But that’s why I need to expand. I’m currently appealing to a very niche market, which won’t be sustainable long term. I want to start these interviews to bring in more people. That’s why I have to lay the charm on Knox Spencer. I need to crack open the mystery of the man with the lowest ERA of starting pitchers in the entire league.

“Want one?” I ask Lucia, offering her one of the beers in my hand as I take my seat.

“Can’t drink, Lo. You know I’m working during games,” she replies, tossing a blanket over my legs. It’s barely above freezing today. We’re both bundled up in puffy jackets and gloves right now to keep ourselves warm. “Now, let’s stop pretending you didn’t know that and admit you bought two beers, knowing you’d be drinking both.”

I smile in response. “You know me too well.”

“You’re an open book, Lo,” Lucia laughs.

Bringing the ale to my lips, I take a sip and let the hoppy flavor consume me. “Yeah, but the alcohol will help keep me warm today.” Lucia just shakes her head at me before we turn our attention to the game.

Lane is today’s leadoff batter, followed by Josh and Cole. Lane bats it up the center, but the second baseman nabs it and tosses it to first, tagging him out. Josh strikes out with his at-bat, and then Cole cracks the ball into the outfield, where it’s then caught by the left fielder. No runs for the Stars in the first inning, but there are still eight more to go.

Knox Spencer takes the mound at the bottom of the first, pitching a 1-2-3 inning. This is why Knox is so well-known—he’s a damn good pitcher. And he keeps up that momentum until the bottom of the sixth when the batter hits a two-run home run. That’s when Paul Fisher, the Team Manager and Rory’s dad, relieves him for the rest of the game. Knox waves to the crowd as he walks toward the dugout, and relief pitcher Miguel Gutierrez sprints across the infield to take his place on the mound.

Through the next two innings, the Stars bat in a total of three runs, taking the win over the Detroit Hawks 3-2. Fans start pouring out of the stadium as Lucia and I approach the tunnels, joining the players as they head toward the clubhouse. And since I’m now two beers deep with liquid courage flowing through me, now is as good a time as any to start getting to know the players better.

two

Knox

“Is there anything youwould have done differently today?” the reporter asks.

“Not thrown a changeup,” I say. The media is always so invasive, especially after a game. Even when we win, they’re still scrutinizing my performance, wondering why I pitched a two-run homer in the sixth inning. Because perfection is apparently all I’m allowed. It’s fucking irritating.

“Do you think a knuckleball would’ve been more successful on that pitch?” asks a different reporter, a woman in the back of the room.

“I guess we’ll never know.”

This here is why I’ve earned the nickname of Fort Knox. Like the home of the US gold supply, the namesake of this damn nickname, you can’t break me, mainly because I don’t give a shit about what they think. Why do they need all the details of my life? I’m playing a game; I’m not a goddamn celebrity.

Well, I guess that’s not entirely true.

I’m well-known as one of the best starting pitchers in the league. Every baseball fan knows who I am, but it goes beyondthat, too. As of the past couple of years, I’m also known off the field.

That’s partially because of the Fort Knox persona but mainly related to some stupid internet poll. Some tabloid put together a list of attractive male athletes, and for some reason, I made the list.

That damn poll has become the bane of my existence. I just want to play baseball and go home to the solitude of my penthouse. I don’t have that luxury anymore, though. I always see cameras and reporters when I’m out. Just gives me even more of a reason to always stay inside.

That’s a large part of the reason Cole and I get on so well. Neither of us wants the fame surrounding us. We just want to live our lives. Lucky for Cole, he manages to go unnoticed. How? No damn clue considering he’s one of the better bats on the team. Not to mention that he’s the hometown hero, having grown up in Brooklyn. As for me, everywhere I turn, there’s a reporter trying to talk to me or a photographer snapping a picture to submit to some tabloid, all wondering about the unnavigable “Fort Knox.”

“Do you think resting for the next four days will have you ready to start Sunday’s game?” yet another reporter asks.

---