Page 11 of Double Play

Dwight chuckled at her embarrassment. He plucked a blade of grass and worried it into a knot, something he used to do while waiting his turn to bat in Little League. This was the time to pin her down. Right now, when she was relaxed and comfortable with him. “You keep working and you might even get to first base.” At her smothered snort, he added, “Not a double entendre, by the way. I’m a ballplayer, I’m entitled to use the term first base without it meaning anything except gettingonbase.”

“That’s fine, but I have about as much chance of getting to first base as this ant.” She brushed an insect off her track suit. “I’m better suited to the front office,clearly.”

Thisreallywas it. No avoiding it any longer. He drew a deep breath for courage and launched into his question. “So you got me curious. How does that computer program ofyourswork?”

All the laugher and joy vanished from her face as if a vacuum cleaner had come through. “I can’t talk about my work with you,Dwight.”

Damn. How fucking clumsy could he be? His jaw went tight. “The players are talking about it. Not much stays secret inbaseball.”

“What have you heard,exactly?”

“I heard that you’re the one who recommended McFarrin based on a model you developed that predicts who’s going to perform well if they getcalledup.”

She gnawed at her thumbnail. Obviously he was making her nervous. “My research is proprietary. I can’t tell you anythingaboutit.”

“That’s cool. That’s cool. I’m just curious how it works. Is it based only on stats? Is it about personality? Psychological history?Zodiacsign?”

With a quick movement, she shifted onto her knees. “You’re making fun of my work,aren’tyou?”

“No.” Honesty got the better of him. “Maybe a little. I know all about Moneyball, all the different ways they use stats in baseball. But if it was just about stats, I’d be wearing Friar blue by now. If there really was a crystal ball that said, yeah, you’re a future star, Dwight, or you should go finish that neurology degree, Lieberman, it might be nice. I can see why they’d want that. It would save everyone a lot of time, especially us players. I’ve been in the minors threeyearsnow.”

“Three years? There are guys who’ve been playing in the minors for a lot longerthanthat.”

“Yeah, that’s true. But they aren’t named Dwight Conner. I have plans, I have dreams, I want more than Albuquerque and Salt Lake City. Bus rides that suck the life out of you. I’m meant for more in this life, I know it. I feel it in here.” He put a fist against his heart. “Sometimes I think there’s a clock in here going faster and faster. Time just keeps flying by and I’m still here in Kilby. Fuck, Lieberman will probably get called upbeforeme.”

“He might. Is that a problem? I thought he was afriend.”

Dwight’s heart sank right into his cleats. Maybe Maggie really did have a crystal ball. “Yeah, he’s a friend. But I’m ten times the playerheis.”

“No, it’s more like zero point seven times,” Maggiemurmured.

“Excuseme?”

“Statistically speaking. Looking only at thenumbers.”

“But that’s what you do, right? You look at the numbers, that’s it. All the mystery and magic, none of thatmatters.”

She jumped to her feet and brushed grass off her pants. “You sound like Crush Taylor right now. He’s skeptical too. But you don’t even know what’s in my program. Maybe it’s all about the mystery. Maybe I’m trying to look past the numbers at the passion. All you care about is how my model affectsyou. Which kind of proves mypoint.”

Stunned, it took him a moment to realize she was storming off toward the parking lot. He scrambled after her. “Wait. Maggie. What are you talking about? Whatpoint?”

She whirled around to face him. “That I love baseball more than you do.” With her index finger against his chest, she emphasized each word. “The Minor Leagues are baseball, too. But for you it’s not about baseball, it’s about fulfilling yourambition.”

“What’s wrong withambition?”

“Nothing. I’m just saying that your love for baseballisn’tpure.”

He scrubbed a hand across his neck. He’d never had an argument like this before, with someone questioning his reasons for playing. He was good at it, he got paid well, end of story…usually.

“Pure? Why should it be pure? If you play baseball, you get dirty. Unless all you’re doing is watching games on TV and playing with thestats.”

“Playing with stats…there you go, mocking my workagain.”

And she was off once more, marching across the green grass like a petitesoldier.

“Damn,” he breathed, gazing after her. She sure was sexy when she was handing himhisass.

His phone buzzed in his back pocket. He pulled it out and saw Duke’s name flashing on the screen. “Can you come into the office a little early, Dwight? Got some newsforyou.”

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