Page 114 of Spotlight
He remembered. To be honest, half the reason I’d called my dad was because I wanted someone to talk to about the extra pressure of tonight. My first time going up against my old team. I don’t hold any grudges against them for letting me go, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want to be at my absolute best tonight.
“Barely feels like they were my team anymore,” I say. I never thought I’d say this, but I’m enjoying being a Mustang. The things I didn’t like about it in the beginning have become quirks that make this place unique. From the weird smell in the showers to the vending machine that routinely steals money, I don’t know, this place feels more like home than other teams did.
“Still, I’m sure you want to show them what they’re missing out on.”
“Yeah.” I don’t deny that.
It feels like good timing honestly. My pitching is the most consistent it’s ever been and now that I’m getting that under control, I should be able to start throwing harder.
I nudge Earl with my forearm as I prepare to change the subject. “You were right. I had JT start watching my front foot. It’s made a big difference.”
Earl grins proud but then smooths it out, almost like he’s embarrassed to have noticed it all. “Someone else would have noticed eventually.”
“Maybe.” I shrug. “But they didn’t. You did. You ever think about coaching again?”
“I’m too old for that. I had my time. And who would keep this place up?” He waves a hand around the room before giving me a face that tells me he thinks it’s a ludicrous idea.
“You’re good at it. A lot of guys could benefit from your eye. You see things other people don’t.”
“I appreciate it, kid, but I’m happy where I’m at and the team has plenty of coaches with a lot more experience than me.”
I can’t tell if he’s telling the truth or not about being happy, but I decide not to push. At least for now.
JT walks into the room and moves to his usual warm-up spot. When I catch his eye, he grins wide and gives me a thumbs-up.
“Looks like your teammates are ready to help you show the Twins what they’re missing out on,” Earl says with a small chuckle.
“Yeah.” I return the thumbs-up at JT and then look off in the direction Gunnar and Bo disappeared. Is that what earlier was about? No matter the reason, I’m glad they’re ready to play tonight.
“I need to do my rounds, but give ’em hell out there.” He pats me on the shoulder.
“I will.”
I go over to JT and fall back into stretches next to him.
“You ready to do the damn thing tonight, Holland?” he asks me, his head bobs to the music playing over the speakers.
“Yeah. I am.”
He glances at my right arm. “Any soreness or pain?”
“Nah, man, I’m good to go.”
“Need an early pep talk?”
I laugh. JT is by far the best catcher I’ve played with. Not only is he great at correcting me during the game, he’s also just a good guy. He knows my quirks and patterns. He reminds me to take my time when I rush or notes differences in my mechanics that cause bad outcomes. I’m at my best when I’m feeling somewhere between playful and competitive. If I try too hard, I get in my head. If I’m too mellow, then I can pull back. JT has strung together the best pregame playlists and warm-up pep talks to keep my mind right.
“I’m good,” I say. “You need anything?”
He lunges to the right side, stretching his quads and hips. “That depends. You know any good pep talks?”
“No. Just a warning. I’m going to throw hard tonight.”
“That’s the best pep talk I’ve ever heard.” His expression softens and his eyes crinkle at the corners with a smile. He holds out a fist to me and I bump mine against it.
27
OLIVIA
