Page 116 of The Future Play

We lost the last game I pitched, though at least for that one, I didn’t take the L. I let three runs through in the first six innings, but the other team let four through, so we were still on track for the win when I left the game. The problem is, the other team’s reliever only let one more run through, while ours let three through. While he took the loss, in my mind, it was still on both of us because we both let equal numbers of runs through. And frankly, I should be improving my game from here, not getting stagnant.

I’m pitching again tonight, and my stress levels are higher than they should be. It’s getting in my head, and I know that’smaking it worse. Part of me wants to call Aaron and beg him to come down here—to help me out. He always helped me through my funks in the past. But that’s not his place anymore. The amount of laughter and eye rolls I’d probably get at bringing in my high school mentor to help me would be ridiculous.

But Aaron is good at finding and fixing problems, and I haven’t developed enough of a relationship with the other pitchers to ask them—or even our pitching staff. Yay, introvert problems. Something I need to get over if I’m going to succeed.

Fuck it. I’ll go in a little early today, talk with Marc, maybe see what options I have.

Amanda whizzes by and over to the giant blue-black refrigerator. She frowns every time she sees it. I know she’s not happy here. Yet another place I’m failing. I don’t have enough bandwidth to manage it all, though. Some things have to give, and the apartment can be solved in the off-season. My game has to come first right now so my off-season isn’t permanent.

Amanda sets a thing of bagels on the counter, then grabs a knife.

I instantly hop off my stool and round the counter to her, grabbing the knife before she can cut one of her fingers off.

“I’ll do that.”

“I can cut a bagel.”

“You sound like you’re hyped up on drugs right now, and you’re practically shaking. I’ll do it. Let me help you.”

She sighs and leans against the counter, nodding. “I’m sorry. I’m… today is a lot. Like a lot, a lot. I’m excited, but I’m nervous. I’ve never hosted anything this massive before, and I want to get it right. Not just because it’s great for my business, but it’s an important cause.”

I finish slicing the bagel and pop it in the toaster, then put my hands on her shoulders. “It’s going to be amazing. You work insanely hard to make every event as perfect as it can be, and you are one of the most capable people I’ve ever met when it comes to rolling with the punches and solving problems on thefly. You’re brilliant.” I kiss her cheek. “Beautiful.” I kiss her other cheek. “And deeply passionate.” I press a soft kiss to her lips. “It’s all going to be amazing, and I can’t wait to see it.”

“You said you think you might be an hour late?”

“Hopefully less. As soon as the game is done, I’ll be hauling ass to get there. It’s not too far from the stadium, so it should be quick.”

Much quicker than getting from our apartment to the stadium, which takes forever. There was twice the mileage between our apartment and the Knights stadium, but it took half as long to get home. I am not used to city life.

“Can I tell you a secret?”

I wrap my arms around her back. “Always.”

“I love when you walk into an event, and I can feel you watching me from across the room. It’s an extra boost of confidence.”

“Mm. If that’s the case, I’ll be your stalker all night.”

“I like the sound of that.”

The bagel pops up from the toaster, and though she reaches for it, I grab it first. “Go sit. I know how you like your bagels.”

Again, she melts a little and heads for one of the stools.

“How are you feeling about the game today? I’m sorry I can’t be there.” Her voice is a little tight when she says it, but I don’t know why. I know today is important to her, and while I wish she could be both places, that would be next to impossible. Plus, it’s not like I won’t see her after the game.

“Trying not to get too in my head, but it’s probably a losing battle. I need to find something to get me out of this funk.”

I slide the plate across the counter to her, and she catches my hand, resting hers on top of it. “I don’t think it’s as much of a funk as you think it is.”

“I’ve seen guys who are better than me bounce between the minors and pro ball for months at a time?—”

“Yeah, but your contract was taken over. It wasn’t a random call up in apinch. This is different.”

“I could still get sent back.”

She slowly shakes her head. “I somehow doubt they would’ve gone through all this effort just to do that. Have some grace for yourself.”

Coming from the one person who might be harder on herself than I am on myself.

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