Page 106 of The Perfect Love

If this is the last few minutes of baseball I’ll ever play—at least like this—I want to soak in every moment.

Despite playing against major league players, we’re holding our own. It comes down to teamwork. I know and trust every person on this field. We’ll all be right where we need to be and the way we play is second nature, even after all these years.

“Let’s do this. Get these outs and close out the inning,” Marc Demoda yells from the dugout. He’s serving as our coach for the game, while Metros’ pitcher and Marc’s honorary brother-in-law Corey Matthews is serving as coach for the Metros’ players.

Jamie’s been killing it pitching, proving he can hold his own against the pros—not that it’s a surprise. His talent has always been on another level from everyone else.

Between fouls and balls, it’s a full count, but Jamie stays cool. There’s no one on base right now, but any hit is a risk.

I’m on high alert as he throws the next pitch. I know before it hits the box that it’ll be a hit, so I wait, ready for what might come my way.

The crack of the bat sends the ball flying in Nick’s direction, a few feet above his head, but nothing fazes him, and perfectly timed, he jumps and snags the ball out of the air. Out number one.

We bump fists as the next batter takes the box. After a few pitches, he hits a line drive that’s quickly fielded, but gets him on base.

Next up is Declan Lowery. My rival third baseman.

After a strike and a couple of fouls, he’s hungry for the ball, but I’m hungry for the play. I hope he hits it. If this is my last play on the field, I want it to be a good one. I want to remember why I love this damn game so much. The thrill of the moment. How one perfectly executed play can change the course of a game. How a well-oiled infield can control the outcome of a game or an entire season. It’s in the littlest movements and the big things like teamwork. Baseball shines in the nuance.

Another strike, and as much as I want to win, I want the action more.

Come on, Declan. Give me something to play with.

Next pitch is a ball, and I’m crawling out of my skin.

Jamie’s jaw is set as he throws the next ball, and this time, Declan’s bat connects with it.

A grounder flies down the third base line and instinct kicks in. One second. Two seconds. Then the ball is in my glove. I turn and whip the ball to Joel, who’s waiting effortlessly at second. The second the ball hits his glove, he turns and fires it off to his brother Jesse at first. My heart is in my throat as I watch Declan running. It’ll be a split-second difference, but then I hear themagical sound of the ball landing in Jesse’s glove right before Declan crosses the base.

My eyes shift to the stands, where all the girls are watching and cheering—includingmygirl. And fuck, I wish I could’ve had this for years. Wish Chelsea could’ve seen me play before I was injured.

The high of the play crescendos as Nick throws an arm around me, but it fades instantly when I realize I’m done.

It’ll always be hard walking off the field with both a pain in my chest and in my leg, but getting to do it at all—it’s the stuff of dreams.

“Awesome play,” Aaron says, jogging over to Nick and me. He extends his fist, and I bump it, then Joel, Miles, and Jamie are walking with us too.

We pause outside the dugout, looking out at the field.

“I was struggling so much senior year, it didn’t hit me that it was our last game together. I’m glad we got to do this,” Aaron says.

Everyone murmurs their agreement, but I’m at a loss for words. The emotion of the moment sweeps over me, and all I can do is enjoy it. Cherish it. For half a second, I swear I hear my dad’s laugh. He would’ve loved seeing this.

He always told me that the most important part of baseball wasn’t winning, it was having fun. There were plenty of times when I didn’t agree with that, but today I do. Win or lose, it’s been the best game of my life.

I thought I’d be bummed to be out of the game… until Marc Demoda shoved a microphone in my hand. Apparently, he felt my sarcastic dugout commentary deserved to be heard byeveryone in the stadium. Now cheering on my boys and heckling the Metros’ players is my new favorite pastime.

“The count is two and two. Runners on second and third. Two outs. Pitching legend Aaron Cooper is on the mound, and the Ida Warriors alumni lead the Metros by one run here in the bottom of the fifth.” My voice rings out across the stadium.

“Who gave him a microphone?”

“My third base rival, Declan Lowery, is annoyed that I’m here to give you all the play-by-play, but personally, I think he’s just jealous of my youth, charm, and good looks.”

“I’m annoyed that this sounds more like a comedy roast than a baseball game!”

“I think he’s more annoyed about that strikeout at the hands of Aaron Cooper, but he’s not the first and he won’t be the last. Over the course of his high school career, Aaron set the record for most shutouts ever pitched—both in a season and in his high school career. Neither record has been broken, even by his protégé and current pitcher for the Binghamton Knights, Jamie Henderson. So, don’t feel too bad, Declan.”

He shouts something else I don’t hear, but I’m enjoying myself way too much to care.

---