Page 127 of The Show

The Lions now had over a million followers, and it was growing daily, especially after the news of Jupiter signing leaked the week after. I’d heard that the first time he appeared on the screens, there was a crowd of women taking pictures of it.

Hundreds and hundreds of women.

Something Jupiter was none too happy about.

So unhappy in fact, he’d flat out refused to be on The Tonight Show; an interview the team had set up as part of ‘The Lions Roaring Back Tour’, which Murray had coined the new communications strategy, something I’d rolled my eyes at, but Lowe had loved.

Consequently, it stuck.

Instead of Jupiter, Ace Walker, the pitcher I’d traded from The Yankees, and Parker King, The Lions catcher, had taken his place. During Spring Training, the two of them had developed a bromance that even the cynical New Yorkers had fallen in love with.

Jupiter’s insistence on keeping his head down and out of the press had everything to do with Marnie. Not that he ever articulated it aloud, but it didn’t take a genius to figure out given how many times he asked me whether I’d spoken to her.

I hadn’t. The only communications we’d had was when she replied with a one-word response to all the emails I’d sent her about the new team, trades I’d made, plans I had.

That was it, one word:received.

It’s a good job I didn’t have high hopes for getting more than that, or I’d have been sorely disappointed, but following our interaction in Houston, it didn’t surprise me. I also figured it didn’t really matter seeing as she’d get a proper feel during Spring Training.

But N.A.S.A. hadn’t let her go in time because of something even Cody couldn’t find out about.

Therefore, today, Opening Day, would be the first time I’d seen her since I’d flown to Houston.

I still wasn’t convinced she’d actually turn up. Wisely, if I do say so myself, I hadn’t told Jupiter she was arriving because I needed his head in the game.

“This place is looking very good indeed,” my grandfather said, putting his arm around me. “I’m proud of you, Pennington. The first stage of being a winning team is looking like one, and this place certainly looks a darn sight better than it did last year.”

“Thanks, Grandpa.” I grinned at him. “It does look good, doesn’t it? I’m very happy with how it turned out.”

“You should be. Now, are you going to show me the field?”

“Yes, sir. Absolutely!” I beamed.

Lowe squeezed my hand. “You both go ahead. I’m going to go and find the girls; they should have arrived by now.”

“Okay.” I pressed my lips to hers briefly, and then she ran off.

I led my grandfather through a security gate to our right and into a tunnel, at the end of which was The New York Lions glorious baseball field. As the fans hadn’t been let in yet, the stadium was empty bar a few grounds men rolling the sand in the diamond; in one corner, the events staff were testing the speaker system ahead of the National Anthem; and on a purpose built platform we’d made just for today, the organist was deafening everyone with the classic ballpark tunes.

It had been Lowe’s idea. For Opening Day, we’d managed to get ahold of an original organ, and she’d somehow convinced the organist from St Patrick’s Cathedral to play for the day. It turned out he was an honest-to-God original Lions fan, so he was more than happy to do it.

I doubled the donation I was planning to make, as a thank you.

My fiancée was something else.

While I’d been buying up every player I could, she’d been building The Lions’ community; the first step of her three year plan.

I’d wanted privacy before the team’s first game, so the morning’s batting and fielding practice had just finished and we reached the middle of the field, relishing the space and virtual solitude. In an hour, the story would be different. In an hour, forty-five thousand people would be pouring through the entrances from every corner of the stadium.

I bent and picked a blade of grass, lifting it to my nose before slipping it carefully into my pocket. A blade of grass from my new field, right before my first Opening Day. That baby was getting encased in resin, and would sit in the spot I’d left for it on the shelf in my office, right next to the spot I’d left for the Commissioner’s Trophy.

“Your father would be so proud of you, my boy. I am so proud of you, too.”

My eyes snapped up to my grandfather’s, to find his misting over with emotion. I grabbed him into the biggest embrace I could muster without breaking down in tears myself.

“Thanks, Gramps. I hope so. Thank you for doing this for me, for pulling my head out of my ass.” I released him, and stepped back. “I wouldn’t have been able to do it myself. I’d never have seen what you saw. I’d have never…” I stopped talking, because the rest of that sentence would have definitely tipped me over the edge, and it wasn’t something I wanted to think about.

Without my grandfather, I’d have never found Lowe.

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