Page 169 of Curveball

Arizona knows me well. “Six more outs. Muscle up. You’ve got this.”

I nod. “Doing the best I can. I need the bats to come alive.”

As a pitcher, I haven’t batted since middle school. My job is to focus on pitching. I leave it to my teammates to provide the offense.

She nods. “I’ll take care of business.”

I know she will. She’s never let me down in twenty-seven years.

After a seeing-eye single up the middle, our left fielder goes all out for a humpback liner down the line, and it gets by her. The run scores. Shit. We’re down by one going into the bottom of the sixth.

Arizona leads off the half-inning with a bunt single. We’re standing in the dugout cheering for her. Kam is up now. I see the coach give Arizona the sign to steal. That’s ballsy and risky, but no one is faster than Arizona Abbott. I love it.

Kam watches the first pitch and Arizona takes off. She dives headfirst into second base just ahead of the tag. We’re all going nuts as she expertly wipes the dirt off her uniform.

Kam executes a perfect sacrifice bunt, sending Arizona to third base. We have to plate this run, so we can at least tie the game.

The next batter steps into the box. We need a hit, a sacrifice fly, or a weak groundball to the right side. Either would score her. Shehasto put the ball in play though.

Unfortunately, she strikes out. We’ve got two outs now. The only way to bring in Arizona now is if the next batter gets a hit.

Bailey is up. She had a long road to get back into playing shape. I’m so happy she’s here. I’m truly happy I get to experience this with all my best friends, but now that we’ve gotten this far, I can smell the gold medal. It’s something my mother wasn’t able to accomplish. I want to do this for her asmuch as I want it for me. And, of course, for all the budding softball players around the world who look up to us.

Bails watches the first two pitches, one being a called strike and one being a ball. She looks cool as a cucumber in there.

Digging her cleats into the dirt, she takes a small practice swing. She gets set for the pitch. We all watch as the pitcher releases the ball. It comes in…andbam! It’s a rocket over the left field wall.Wayover the left field wall.

We all start jumping up and down screaming in excitement. Bailey is holding her hands on her helmet in shock as she practically dances around the bases. The crowd is going nuts. We all greet her at home plate, jumping on top of her.

I’m so happy for her. What an epic moment.

After the next batter grounds out, we head to the seventh inning. Three more outs until paydirt. Until we get to fulfill our lifetime goal of winning a gold medal.

Arizona fist-bumps me. “Let’s finish this bitch so we can celebrate.” She mumbles, “With non-alcoholic beverages.”

I giggle as I make my way to the mound. Mom gives me our universal sign to stick with my rise ball and curveball. Always coaching me, even when she’s not.

Mom now runs the biggest softball facility on the East Coast. She’s turned a small warehouse operation into a successful business that has a mile-long waiting list. She has instructors, strength and conditioning trainers, and several hitting and pitching tunnels. You name it, she does it. Both the Cougars and Anacondas help out when they can. It also gives some of the lesser-known players on the Anacondas a place to work in the off-season. Arizona, Kam, and I are the faces of the team, and we get endorsement offers, but most others don’t. I love that they don’t have to take odd jobs to make ends meet. They get to work with the next generation of softball players.

Dutton couldn’t be here because of the Cougars’ schedule, but he and my mom are still going strong. His kids have become like siblings to me. I may not have gained Pierre and Colette Beaumont, but I gained Anderson and Sage Steel.

I see Quincy now sitting next to his dad. Their relationship has grown so much in the past few years. Paul and Pamela make much more of an effort to spend time with Kaya and Ryan, constantly flying back and forth. They’re considering retiring and moving to Philly to be near the grandkids. I love Quincy’s changed attitude toward them. He’s doing his best to understand them, and in turn, they’re devoting more time to all of us.

As for Quincy and me, we’ve never been stronger. My husband has lived up to every promise he made me, showering me with more love, affection, and respect than I could have ever dreamed possible. I’m living my fantasy life.

Kaya is sitting on his lap with a giant lollipop. Oh man, that might keep her still for a bit, but we’re going to pay for it later. Her big red curls are more wild than usual. Quincy can’t manage them quite as well on his own, but I certainly never mention it.

He whispers something in Kaya’s ear, and she giggles. For a man who didn’t think he was cut out to be a father, he’s just about the best one I’ve ever seen. I think he’s managed to achieve a good balance. While he does have to travel for road games, when he’s home, he’s truly with us. Kaya wants for absolutely nothing in the father department.

We make eye contact, and he mouths, “Love you,” as I make my way to the mound, possibly for the last time.

I subtly blow him a kiss before getting back to the business at hand. I strike out the first two batters. The atmosphere here is electric. We can all smell the gold medal.

Arizona gives me the signal for an outside curveball. I nod and secure the proper grip on the ball. The second I release it, I realize that it’s not going to hit the target. It’s going to catch too much plate.

The batter swings and connects hard. It’s a shot into the five-six hole. Crap. That’s going to be a hit.

But it’s not.

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