Page 76 of On Fire Island

This time I ran to her.

The game fell back into play as we embraced. I felt a tingling warmth throughout every inch of my body. The smell of her, the way her small frame always lined up on par with mine, allowing for the best hugs I’d ever known. I couldn’t believe I was feeling them again.

“I kept thinking people were waving at me, but you actually were!” I laughed.

She laughed too, and we embraced again. I knew it was time to go but asked for a little more.

“Can we watch the end of the game?” I asked, not wanting to spend eternity without knowing its outcome.

“Of course, bubbala,” she said.

Oceanview scored one run in that inning and one in the next. The ump approached the scoreboard and announced the score. “Top of the fifth, seven to six, Oceanview.”

Three Bay Harbor guys managed to get on base, and two got out—so bases were loaded and there was a full count. The pressure was epic, and Matty was up again.

“Bases loaded, two outs, Matty. This is big,” Eddie instructed him, as if he didn’t know.

“No kidding.”

Matty took a few practice swings on the side as Joel added, “A home run would put us in the lead, kid.”

“Leave him be,” Shep stepped in, adding quietly, “Remember everything.”

“Batter up!”

Matty took the plate as his mom, Tuck, the drummer, Dylan, Bea, Ben, Shep, and the entire rest of the town and me and Nana Hannah looked on anxiously. So, no pressure. On the mound, Roger looked at his ball and slowly threw it out of play, yelling, “New ball!”

“He’s like a human rain delay,” Ben moaned, his first contribution to baseball-speak all summer. As a sportswriter, he was normally the lexicon king. It was another sign of his brain actually working again.

A new ball was retrieved from the wagon and opened up,while Matty waited patiently, trying not to succumb to Roger’s attempt to psych him out.

“Don’t take the first pitch, kid,” Shep reminded him for the hundred thousandth time.

Matty nodded respectfully. Roger pitched. Matty swung, surprising everyone on the field, none more than Shep, and the powerful first shot took off in the air—going, going, gone, right over the forty-five-foot net and on to the tennis courts.

The silence was deafening until the ump broke it with, “And he’s outta the game!”

The crowd erupted in protest or accolades, depending on which town they hailed from. Matty was shocked. He looked at Shep and mouthed “Sorry.” Shep just shook his head. Matty looked down the line at everyone’s solemn, angry, or pleading faces. It was a sad day on the Bay Harbor field—until someone got the big idea of enlisting Little Les as Matty’s replacement.

Joel and Rico coaxed Little Les off the bleachers and begged him to step in for the last two innings. Both teams were thrilled that he agreed to play. There wasn’t a guy there who hadn’t followed the ecstasy and agony of his career. Even with the hiatus, they still insisted he bat lefty.

Everyone stood and gave him a standing ovation as he jogged out onto the field. He looked down at his sneakers when he got out there, kicking the ground a bit as he did, clearly trying to keep his emotions in check. When he looked up at the stands at his wife and little boy, his signature killer smile spread across his face.

Ben reached into his pocket and planted Josie’s gift in the palm of Matty’s hand and whispered, “Think of baseball.”

Matty’s eyes nearly popped out of his head. He found Dylan at the end of the bench and unclenched his fist, giving her a quick view of what he was clutching.

“Tutti fruity?” she asked curiously.

He just shrugged.

“How many more innings?”

“Two.”

“OK, that should be plenty of time. I’ll slip away first. You follow in a few,” Dylan instructed him, as always, in charge of their adventures.

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