Page 84 of Endgame

The bond they share is such a special thing to see firsthand; that’s part of the reason, I’m sure, why they play and win together so well.

I never imagined that my joy in photography would be amplified while photographing sports. It’s become something I now look forward to doing. There’s a certain energy that comes from a team's cohesiveness, win or lose, matched with the rivalry of the other teams and the fans battling for the win of their die-hard fans.

The field is electric. Unbeatable. And to be able to capture those moments is a privilege. One that I’ll never stop appreciating.

Once I load up my equipment, I set out for the bus terminal to meet the staff and team before we head to our hotel for the night. Since this was the last game of the sweep in Cleveland, we’re staying here for the night, then heading back to Atlanta tomorrow.

Walking up to the hotel, I’m overwhelmed by the greatness of it all.

I never went without growing up, but I certainly never experienced this kind of wealth, a privilege that evidently comes from being a professional baseball player. I have a feeling the guys wouldn’t care where they stayed as long as they had a bed to sleep in and food to eat.

They're decent humans like that.

From my assumption, the Strikers playing the Cardinals was a rival match that would draw a heavy crowd—explaining how booked the hotel is.

It’s located in downtown Cleveland, placed right outside the nightlife strip where patrons walk by on foot to reach destinations nearby. The city's riches are apparent no matter which way you look.

As the staff and team enter the hotel, I’m reminded of how famous the Strikers are; well, I’m noticing what a celebrityCallawayis.

King, Cal, Bodhi, Gus, and Mack are stopped for autographs and photo ops every minute. They rarely turn down a fan or a chance to have a meaningful conversation.

They will make the best husbands one day.

The attention they show to the support they receive is admirable and only makes me love them more.

The team huddles around the hotel lobby waiting for our designated room arrangements. Jack calls me over to the check-in counter as he secures the keys. “Here you go, Dakota. You have a room to yourself for the night. Thanks for all your efforts today.”

Well, shoot.

An entire room, bed, everything to myself?Say less, Jack.

Walking back to where the guys are huddling, catcalls sound out to me, leading me in their direction.

Idiots.

King jumps in first, no shocker there. “Well hot damn, Kodi girl. Flying solo tonight? Any chance you need akingto come warm your bed, gorgeous?”

I love his stupid ass.

Jethro has a tendency to take things too far. Thankfully, I know him well enough now. “I bet she found herself a Cleveland fuck buddy.”

I’m staring him down like the plague — “Hey, Jet?” He looks my way. “Shove it up your ass.”Oohs and aahssound out around us.

He’s too easy to mess with.

Jethro looks at me with the intent to egg me on further.Be my guest.

“What was that, sweetness?” Barf.

I tolerate him because he’s Callaway’s friend and teammate, but his immaturity makes my skin crawl.

“Don’t act like you aren’t familiar with things shoved up there, Jethro.”

A chorus of cheering lights up my ears. I had no intention of stirring things up, but I couldn’t help myself. I’m afraid to look at Cal, though, unsure if he’s hearing this and okay with it.

Jethro’s skin has all but blanched ghostly pale, looking slightly humiliated, but I know he has a retort brewing.

“How would you even know that?” There it is.

---