Page 180 of Off Season

We almost didn’t make it. We were down late in our semi-final game, but with the bases loaded, I did what I’ve done many times throughout my career. I played the part of the hero.

My sister has had a great Olympics. It took a lot of time, energy, and tears to get her here, but we did it. I initially feared she’d be relegated to the bench, but she’s peaking at just the right time. Even better, her husband and three daughters are here to witness what hard work and perseverance look like. I’m proud of her. I’m in awe of her.

The game is underway, and it’s a tight one. We’re down one run as we enter the bottom of the sixth inning. Arizona uses her speed to get on base, as always. I watch the first pitch to enable her to steal second base, which she does.

I then look at the coach, waiting for a signal, even though I know what it will be. She’s going to want me to swing away and bring Arizona home to tie the game. Or possibly hit a home run to give us the lead, once again making me the hero. I happen to have the best career batting average on my team against this particular pitcher. She’s second only to Ripley in the world and shuts most batters down.

As expected, the coach gives me the signal to hit away. The batter after me will undoubtedly strike out. She’s done that against this pitcher for her entire career. The coach should have moved her down in the batting order. Bailey bats after her, and she’s a contact hitter, always putting the ball into play.

I decide to bunt Arizona over to third base and leave her there for Bailey to drive in. After laying down a perfect sacrifice bunt, I’m out at first base, but Arizona is now sixty feet away from tying the game. Both the coach and Arizona narrow their eyes at me in confusion. It’s not often a power hitter like me bunts, but I had my reasons.

As expected, the next batter strikes out. Some pitchers just have the number of certain batters.

My sister has historically made decent contact against the pitcher. That’s all we need right now. She needs to knock Arizona in. I have faith in my sister.

I stand at the edge of our dugout as I watch Bailey enter the batter’s box for what will likely be the last time in her life. Everything we’ve been through in our thirty-two years flashes through my mind. We’ve had a lot of tough times, but we’re finally at a point where the good severely outweighs the bad. She’s so blissfully happy with Tanner and their girls. My heart bursts for her. I’d like to think I had some hand in helping her down this path.

She’s told me many times throughout the past two years that she doesn’t regret being pulled into softball. She doesn’t regret anything in her life because it led her to where she is now. I want so badly for this to be her big moment. She’s earned it.

She’s got one ball and one strike in her count. She’s laser-focused on the pitcher. Softball is a bit like poker. All pitchers have tells as to what pitch they’re going to throw, you just need to learn how to read them. I think that’s why I hit so well. I can usually figure out what pitch is coming. There’s no bigger thinking person’s sport than softball. It’s what drew me to the sport in the first place.

I can tell the pitch is going to be inside and see the moment Bailey realizes it too. Come on, Bails, turn on it. Drive it down the left-field line.

The pitch is thrown, and Bailey begins her swing. The second the ball hits the bat, I know it’s gone. It’s like time momentarily stands still. We all watch as the ball sailswayover the left-field wall for a two-run home run.

My sister undoubtedly just won the Olympics for us. Tears of joy immediately sting my eyes.

She hasn’t moved. Her hands are on her helmet in shock. At some point, she realizes she has to trot around the bases and takesoff in a sprint. She does some uncharacteristic twirly move. I can’t help but laugh through my tears. It’s so unlike her to showboat, but I’m happy she picked this moment to do it.

We all run out of the dugout to greet her at home plate, but I make sure I’m the first. I’ve never been so happy in my entire life.

She’s got the biggest smile I’ve ever seen as she raises her fist in the air and stomps on home plate. I immediately wrap my arms around her and lift her in the air, shouting, “My sister, the hero. The unbreakable Bailey Hart Montgomery.” I’m overwhelmed with emotion as I manage to croak out, “I’m so fucking proud of you.”

We cry together as we make our way to the dugout. I can see Daddy, Tanner, Fallon, Harper, and the twins all jumping up and down in glee.

Our next batter grounds out, and then we take the field for the top of the seventh and final inning. If we hold them here, we win the gold medal. I glance at the stands, willing Cheetah to miraculously appear, but he doesn’t. He can’t. He was willing to be fined hundreds of thousands of dollars to skip their game, but I wouldn’t let him. He’s on the borderline of being a possible Hall of Fame player. Something like skipping out on a game without permission is one of those random things that would cause voters not to vote for him. I won’t allow that to happen because of me. As much as I ache for him to be here right now, it’s not best for him.

After Ripley strikes out the first two batters, our opponents are down to their last out. The batter steps in and Ripley winds up for the pitch. The batter swings and hits a missile toward the five-six hole. Fuck.

I tuck my glove, pivot, and take off as quickly as I can. Laying out until I’m completely parallel to the ground, I reach my glove all the way out and feel the ball hit it at the same time I come smacking down onto the unforgiving dirt.

Knowing I’ve got no time to spare, I pop up to my knees and throw the ball toward first base as hard as I can from this position.The ball hits into the first baseman’s glove a hair ahead of the runner.

Game over. We win.

We all run toward Ripley, as it’s standard to pile on top of a pitcher after a huge victory. My sister runs toward me. Throwing her arms around my neck, she screams, “Best. Play. Ever.”

The next thirty minutes are full of tears and celebration. My sister is being hailed as the hero. I couldn’t possibly be any happier for her. I love seeing her get all the attention she deserves.

Harper is standing next to her, looking at Bailey like she hung all the stars in the sky. The twins don’t totally know what’s going on, but they know their mommy is a star. That’s all that matters. When they’re older, they’ll be able to watch this moment over and over, knowing what it took for her to get here and how she rose to the occasion.

It’slate into the evening, and I’m sitting in a booth at a bar all alone. My friends are long gone, celebrating privately with their husbands. The younger players on the team are either already passed out or getting it on with some random person on the dance floor.

I stare at a few of them making out with strangers. That used to be me, but I’ve got no interest in that now. Not one ounce. A few people hit on me tonight, but there’s only one person I want.

I try to focus on the ceremony earlier tonight when the four of us received our gold medals. We cried like babies at the moment our forever dreams became our reality.

The best part was right after the ceremony, when Bailey and I presented our father with our grandmother’s gold medal, which our mother had sold. It took me a few years and a lot of money, but I was able to track it down and buy it back.

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