KOA
Sweat flings off my arm as I throw the ball back to Wyatt. He's ready for this game to be over. His arm is getting tired but he refuses to tap out. As long as he's throwing strikes, no one will ask him to either.
We need one more out. Then it’s our last chance at bat. We have to get a run on the board to take the win home. We’re currently tied three to three against Alabama State thanks to some solid pitching and base hitting from both sides.
Enzo steps up to the plate with a smug smile on his face. “Mahina,” he says, like he’s my worst enemy instead of one of my closest friends.
“Morelli.”
He digs his cleats into the dirt and readies his swing. I signal Wyatt to throw a fastball. Enzo has been swinging at everything today. I line up outside the strike zone to throw Enzo off and make him believe Wyatt is going to throw his slider.
Wyatt releases the ball and I quickly adjust my stance to catch it. As I suspected, Enzo swings a hair too late. I smirk under my mask.
“Almost had that one.”
“I’ll get the next one. You act like I haven’t gotten a few hits off him already today.”
“One of which you popped up just for me to catch. Thanks for making me look good.”
“Yeah, yeah. Will you call it already? I kind of miss the grumpy catcher behind the plate. You’ve been talking a lot more shit since you got with Syd.”
He’s not wrong. I’m happier. I’m playing better. Everything is falling into place. I only have one, maybe two, more hurdles to jump before the next phase of our lives can begin.
I signal Wyatt for his slider. I want to see if we can get Enzo to reach for it. Wyatt agrees and I hold my glove up in the center of the plate. I drop it just in time to catch the ball in the bottom corner.
“Damn it.” Enzo steps out of the batter’s box and shakes his arms loose. “Call it again.”
“I’m not going to hand you the pitch you want.” I signal Wyatt to give him another fastball but he shakes it off. This time I try for a curve and he agrees.
Enzo swings and I watch in horror as the ball flies out of the stadium. He throws his bat and starts running the bases. I lift my mask and step away from the plate giving him room to tag it when he runs down third base.
“Better luck next time. Maybe you can wear my jersey at the championship game,” he says with a wink.
“Asshole,” I mutter, as he disappears into the crowd of his teammatescelebrating.
Hart approaches Wyatt and whispers something in his ear. Wyatt nods then glances over at Wren in the stands. She dips her chin and that must mean something to him because suddenly he’s ready to go.
Before I pull my mask down, I sneak a quick look at Sydney. For the first time in the four years I’ve been playing at Newhouse she’s wearing my jersey. It shouldn’t make a difference but it’s a visible confirmation she’s here for me. Having the most beautiful girl in the stands cheering for me makes winning the game irrelevant because I’ve already got the prize.
Last one. One more out. We can do this. The next batter steps up to the plate. He’s been striking out all day. Just like Enzo, he’s been swinging at everything too. He wants to be the hero for his team. I have a feeling Enzo’s home run is going to feed his complex even further.
I tell Wyatt to throw his slider. This guy is going to swing regardless. We might as well give him something he can’t reach.
As predicted he swings and the ball drops to my glove. Wyatt repeats the pitch two more times and adds another strikeout to his list. Now it’s our turn to flip this game in our favor.
I'm helpless sitting in the dugout as Marco strikes out one of our batters, another one grounds out, and our last hope swings hard and hits a pop fly out to center field ending the game.
“Fuck.” My head drops.
Hart slaps me on the back. “We had a good run.”
We did. It was a good season. It was a good year.
“Are you okay, Wyatt?” I ask. He’s sitting on the bench staring out at the field.
“That was the last game for me. I’m never playing again. I really wanted to bring home another championship. I can’t believe it’s over now.”
“Are you having regrets?”