Nine

Part 4

I sit on the bench and cup my glove over my knee. The weight is slight but enough to anchor me. I close my eyes and colours flash on my lids. I need a drink. I stand to fill a paper cup with water even though I’d rather something else. The cold of the water seeps through the waxed paper to my fingers, a soothing cold touch on my calloused tips.

Out of nowhere a sight flashes in my eyes, replacing the bright green of the field. A lighter, mintier green of linen and painted walls. I close my eyes. I don’t want to see it. The images flash on my lids instead. The draped gurney. The sterile doctor. The sudden bubble of stillness within the chaos of the ER when everything stops. I open my eyes and shake my head. I don’t want to see it. Not here. Not now. Her hands were still warm. An animal wail frightened me when I realized it was mine. I close my eyes and press the dusty heels of my hands against them until it hurts. Colours flash again with the pressure, replacing the sights of that night. But my ears are open and the Creature can’t cover the sound. I remember her last whispered words. Incoherent and broken. I growl low to replace the whispers but they are inside my head. A body settles beside me and the bench sags. I startle out of the trance. Jimmy doesn’t touch me. He doesn’t look. He sits silently beside me staring straight ahead. Just as he did that night. I suck in a breath and gaze at my hands twisting on their own accord. I force them still.

“I’m done,” I tell Jimmy, my voice low and rough.

“No you’re not. You have two more innings.” He doesn’t look at me but his tone is final. I turn in surprise and he stares out at the field.

“I can’t. I’m done.”

“Suck it up, Mike. You started this, you need to finish it.” With that he turns and looks at me. Looks through me. I nod, knowing he’s right. He stands and picks up his mask and steps into the field. I follow because I have nothing left to do.

My legs feel weak and tired walking out. My hand shakes when I grip the ball. My head is foggy and unfocused. I don’t know how I’m going to finish this game. I walk to the back of the mound where the “S” is almost covered. You wouldn’t see it if you didn’t know it was there, the raised edges lost in the scuffs of dirt. Hidden. But I can see it. I place my four fingers along the top curve. Like a change-up, my inner voice is a sneer. We weren’t expecting that, were we?

Jimmy is on the mound above me. “Let’s go, Mike, it’s time to play.” When I look up he’s blurry. I blink quickly and wipe my face on my upper sleeve as I stand. He puts the ball in my glove and his eyes linger.

The umpire calls the batter to the plate. He stands in with his bat high and his face serious, eyes trained on me. I nod at Jimmy’s signs and focus on his glove. I stare at the target until the rest of the stadium falls grey and silent. Set. Focus. Windup. Hurl. The ball lands its mark. The second pitch is launched out to centre field but is caught easily against the wall. I watch the ball relay back in and return to the rubber. I wait for the next batter to stand in, already pulling the shadow around Jimmy’s glove. He signals the pitch and I nod. Set. Focus. Windup. Hurl. The ball bounces back up the first base line where the baseman snatches it and touches the base. Two out. I stand on the turf behind the mound and collect the toss from first. Feigning need for the rosin I brush my fingers over the ‘S’ as I reach for the sac and drop it in the dust. I step over the letter and up to toe the rubber. Jimmy signs for a change-up and I flinch as I nod. In my glove I lay my fingers along the wide curve of the ball, around the top curve of an ‘S’. Set. Focus. Breathe. Focus. Windup. Hurl. The swing pops the ball straight up and I move off the mound. I call off the players drawing near. It’s not my play but I need to catch it. I plant under the falling ball and put my hands up ready and shielding the sun. As the ball hits the pocket of my glove I close my second hand around it keeping the ball locked away. Three out. I stand a moment too long with the ball in my hands, staring at my glove. “I’m here,” she whispers and I start to believe it.

I don’t look up on my way in because I feel her walking beside me. I feel the hair on my arms stand up as if reaching out to bring me closer to her. I walk slowly, relishing her presence. On the bench I close my eyes and remember the night before that night. We lay in bed whispering in the dark. I was nervous of my upcoming start. She was talking me down.

“Well I think your next one will be the game of your life,” she said and I knew she believed it. I rolled my eyes and laughed it off but something rang true in her words. I wanted to argue but kissed her instead.

I missed my next start for her funeral. This was my next start.

Our dugout is subdued. The guys leave me alone, isolated at my end of the bench. They don’t even look in my direction. I know we’re winning but I don’t remember the score. I look up to the lit numbers of the score board and see it’s 3-0. That’s when I see the three zeros on the right under R, H, E. No runs, no hits, no errors. My mind races. No hits? I flip back through the innings trying to prove it wrong. They must have hit. I look over at my restrained teammates crowded at the other end. That’s why they’re staying away. Superstition runs rampant on the ball field. Jimmy breaks the code and glances my way. I tip my head at the scoreboard and he grins and nods back. Of course he knows. He’s never caught a no hitter before, most catchers never do.

When we take the field the Creature bellows and cheers. They stand on their feet. The fans are relinquishing a Home team win for the rare no hitter that is three outs away. I follow my routine to the back of the mound and stoop to retrace the ‘S’. Dirt clings to my fingertip and I brush it with my thumb, feeling the grains between my pads. I stand and step up to the rubber focusing on Jimmy. He nods and points his glove before crouching behind the plate. He calls for a fastball so I lay my fingers along the stitches. Set. Focus. Windup. Hurl. The batter swings and the ball hops out to third where it’s trapped safely in the third baseman’s glove and tossed over to first well ahead of the runner. The crowd cheers, the Creature roars.

I watch Jimmy’s sign and feel the stitches against my fingers. Set. Focus. Windup. Hurl. Set. Focus. Windup. Hurl. Set. Focus. Windup. Hurl. The batter strikes out with three swings. The crowd applauds and the Creature grows wrapping me in a swirl of energy. It pulls me taller.

I look to her seat and see her standing with the crowd. Her hands are clasped, fingers woven together and pressed to her smile. Her eyes shine even under the shade of my cap. She blows me a kiss.

My heart pounds and I remind myself to breathe. Set. Focus. Focus. Focus. Windup. Hurl. The batter watches the ball slide past.

I keep my eyes on the plate and wait for Jimmy’s signs. Set. Focus. Windup. Hurl. The ball sails foul into the crowd and is swallowed by the Creature.

Jimmy collects a new ball from the umpire and tosses it out to me. I study the seam, the continuous line of nestled stitches and feel the thread, soft and strong. I read the signs and stand. Set. Focus. Windup. Hurl. The ball curls from the inside across the plate and through the zone. Strike two.

Jimmy keeps the pace. He throws from his haunches and waits for the batter to step back in. His sign is empty and meaningless; he’s leaving it up to me. I look at the ball and glance at the stands. She waves her fingers and fades away leaving me watching the fans clapping on their feet.

“You can do this,” she whispers so close it’s inside me. “You can do this.”

Set. Focus. Windup. Hurl. The swing is strong and misses the ball by a breath. The ball slaps with finality against Jimmy’s glove and he’s on his feet. Time stops. The crowd roars outside the blanket of calm surrounding me. I know she’s with me, beside me and within me. I make it to the ‘S’ at the back of the mound before my team is there and I’m clutched in their cheer and moved by their bounds. As they encircle me, I touch my dusted fingers to my lips and blow her a kiss.