Page 124 of Wild Hit
These things happen in the game of baseball. It looks very easy and low contact compared to something like hockey or rugby. But freak accidents can happen anyway, with long lasting impacts. Or worse. A pitch to the wrong spot of the head can kill. An accidental collision can incapacitate. And people in the stands are also not always safe. We all know this. We practice to prevent this. We hone our bodies to our own peak to be more flexible and stronger.
It’s still a roundhouse kick to the solar plexus when it happens. Makes a guy wonder when his turn will come.
So after that inning I made a big error that got a run for the Riders. Then our relief shortstop made another one. And that set a chain of events in motion that has taken us right into this moment.
Bottom of the ninth. Our last chance at bat.
We’re trailing four to one, with two runners on base.
Our captain is next at bat, and then it’s my turn.
No one knows that my side’s really bothering me. It’s why the hit that led to Lucky’s injury wasn’t a home run.
Right now we’re on a time out, huddling around the on-deck area with Beau, McDonald, Logan, a base coach and at least five other players. Beau wants us to go for broke, be as aggressive as caged wild animals that are hungry. A few of us glance down at our alligator feet socks. I bet Lucky’s screaming the same at us from the medical ward.
“No wussing out,” Beau says with more calm than I’d have in his position. “We haven’t come this far to crumble like cookies. Our rivals out there are hoping and praying that we do, so how the hell are we gonna give them that satisfaction?”
“Who are we?” the base coach shouts above the noise in the stadium.
“The Wild!” all of us scream in unison.
Logan takes a single step forward, it brings him into the middle of our messy circle. He turns slowly, staring at each of us in the eye and stopping when he faces me. “Lucky would get so angry at us if we screw this up now.”
My shoulders slump a little. “Yeah…”
“Did he just use Rivera’s first name?” someone whispers.
“We can’t afford going into another game where he won’t play,” our captain continues, “because that would piss him off even more. We have to finish this tonight to make it worth it.”
My eyebrows climb. I hadn’t thought about that aspect, even though it rings as true as the earth being round. I’ve just been focused on how shitty it would be to lose because his injury rattled us—me especially—when the real nightmare for him would be to watch us lose like damn fools.
Coño, seré pendejo.
I smack my cheeks hard enough that everyone’s attention turns to me. Even better, all the capacity for pain in my body now concentrates on my face. My mind hasn’t been clearer all night than at this moment.
“Get on base, Logan,” I command as if I was the boss of this operation.
“Only if you get enough of us home to salvage this,” he retorts with a sharp look in his eyes.
Three runs would tie this. If I can hit the ball nasty enough to frazzle the fielders, I can get the next guys at bat to come up. Scoring a run of my own would be even better.
“For Lucky,” I say, putting my paw in the air.
Logan smashes his over mine. “And for your marriage.”
“And for the pizza.” We turn just as surprised to see that Cade came out of the dugout for this, even while he’s half undressed and cooling his shoulder. “What? I’ve also worked hard, I deserve a few slices.”
“For the pizza!”
“And the socks!”
“And for a sixteen-hour-long nap!”
Snorting, I shake my head. The circle begins dissipating and, for the first time since I’ve met him, Logan Kim shoots me a Lucky-style grin before heading to the batter’s box. Shit has hit the fan when our grump of a captain starts looking like our favorite class clown.
But this team is more than stereotypes. They’re brothers, warriors, and strategists. I haven’t met a single Orlando Wildplayer who doesn’t think at least two steps ahead, some even as far as ten. Logan holds that record, and I have no doubt that this guy’s gonna make something happen during his at bat.
I crouch, holding myself up with the bat. My heart beats so furiously, it’s almost like every fiber’s screaming. My whole body tingles and burns. The last time I felt like this was when I was kissing Audrey.
