FWB Friends With Baseball

Pop.

Jailyn~

"Anyone else sort of feel like they're gonna puke?" I can't help but ask, laughing as a few of the girl's chuckle. "Like the excitement and nerves going through me right now are crazy." Waiting around in the locker room with my team, all of us suited up, ready to go face Japan in the gold medal game. There's no way to even describe this feeling other than it's like I'm gonna puke for all of the best reasons. We've faced Japan and won once here already, but there wasn't a medal involved then.

"Jai," Carly says, chuckling, "I don't know why the hell you're nervous. You've played phenomenally every game leading up to this. Three homers in five games is a solid stat, not to mention that you only haven't reached four times. You're fine."

Rolling my eyes, I smirk, "Yeah, when you put it like that!" My teammates laugh with me, my subtle cocky line different from my usual tone, "It's expected of me now, if I suck this game, people are gonna be dicks about it."

"You're literally fine," Monica says, chuckling, "You sucking is only going to matter if we all start to. Our five and oh record here, with a seven to three win over Japan already. You're good."

Chuckling, I reply, "Solid point."

Following team warm-ups, I'm directed to switch with Maddy to cover center. Without questioning the change, I run out to get into position ready to take on the new home. Watching Monica's wind up, I squat into the ready position, tracking the ball as diligently as I can.  The view is a change, but nothing I can't handle. The first pitch thrown Japan's batter sends the ball on a straight shot towards me. What a nasty way to start this game if I can't get this. Running back, I track the ball until I have to jump into the wall. Stretching my glove up as high as I can on my jump, I slam into the wall, grabbing the ball to keep it in play. Holding my glove up, I make sure everyone knows I've got the ball. The roar of the stadium hypes me up even more than robbing what would be their first home run of the games.

Throwing the ball back in, I grin as Carly blows me a kiss, both of us laughing at the gesture. It's insane to think that this is the last game we'll have until February. When the hype for the first play of the game dies, Monica gets a strike on the next batter. The hype from the crowd may have died a little, but mine only heightens. After throwing a ball the next pitch the batter sees, she takes, sending a little blooper into left-center. Sprinting up to it, "ball, ball, ball!" I scream. While I don't have a great position on it, I've got the best out of anyone else. Laying out, I slide into the ball as it lands in my glove. How the hell did I manage to get that? Tossing the ball up from where I lay on the ground, Carly laughs as she grabs it at short. Pushing off the ground, I get back to my feet, shaking my head before brushing off the little turf beads from my uniform. Well, the people have gotten what they paid for this first two-thirds inning.

Thankfully for my sake, Monica strikes out the last batter. Jogging back into the dugout, I comment, "Hey Moni, can I put a formal request in to not let batters hit to me?"

Monica lets out a loud laugh, "Yeah, I'll see what I can do."

Grinning back,  "Hey, thanks!" She shakes her head before looking back at the film from her outing. Getting my gloves and helmet on, I hear the crack of a bat and see Maddy get a single. "Atta way, babe," I yell out. Finishing up getting ready, I step out into the on-deck circle squaring up the pitcher once again. Maddy gets a big jump and manages to easily steal second on the first pitch to Elena. The second pitch Elena sees, she sends to deep right giving Maddy the chance to tag. I can work with a runner on three.

Elena and I high-five in passing, both of us coming down and hitting each other's ass, glancing back to laugh with each other as I step up to the plate. Their pitcher shakes her head a few times before nodding getting into her wind-up. I'm curious how they're planning on playing this.  Anything out of the infield, she's home. There's also the fact I have yet to strike out here in Tokyo. With only one out, if they walk me, I can probably manage a continuous walk. Odds are they catch me on it if they take the bait. Even if I get caught, Maddy can easily score. If they don't take the bait, we've got two runners in scoring position with one out.

That's the move. Watching the ball miss low and outside, I get the idea locked in my head. Maybe they're just going to walk me. Given there's no intentional walk rule, it's that or throw me some strikes. Honestly, it might be a lose-lose situation for them. The second pitch is the same spot low and outside, also called a ball. They're going to walk me.  I'm not even sure the last time I've seen a continuous walk. Maybe it'll surprise them enough to throw into it. With a three-oh count on me, I step out of the box, looking to third-base. Ken is commenting to Maddy before they both look at me. "Be ready," I mouth. Ken's brow furrows slightly, not sure what's going on in my head, but he nods before saying something to Maddy again. Maddy chuckles before nodding as I get back into the box.

And there's ball four. Smirking to myself, I take my jog towards first, pointing subtly towards two letting Jeannie, our first base coach, know my plan.  Without stopping at first, I turn two and watch as Japan's second baseman starts trying to get their pitcher's attention as she covers the bag. Being on this big of a stage makes it really easy to make mistakes, and they've made a big one. Their pitcher throws quickly to second base, and I see Maddy take off, their catcher now frantic to get the ball back as I turn hard to run back to first. Jeannie waves me back towards two after about three steps, they've got me in a pickle, but we've got one run in.

Seeing their shortstop get the ball back at two, I turn to run back to first only to be waved away again. Jamming my left foot into the ground, I push myself into a hard sprint, diving into second base before they get any more coverage. Damn, I cannot wait to see the replay on this one. Time is called on the field, and I'm able to stand up on the bag and brush the turf off. Our dugout is going crazy, as is the stadium. It's been a hell of a first-inning already.

After scoring two more in the first, and an uneventful second inning, we're up three-oh in the bottom of the third. Taking my spot at the plate again, their pitcher shakes off a couple of pitches before getting set. Taking the first pitch, it misses high and outside. Honestly, it only missed my spot by about an inch and a half. Getting reset, I track the second pitch. My timing is a little late, but it pays off as I hit the ball to deep right field.

Dropping my bat, I take off, sprinting around first heading towards second. I'm okay settling for a stand-up double, but Ken waves me to third. Pushing sharply into second base with my left foot, I hear this almost pop as I could almost swear I was kicked in the back of the leg. Pushing through the minor limp, not wanting to fall from my momentum, I ignore the near searing pain in my ankle before sliding into third, beating the tag. The cheering lets me know that I'm safe, but it's hard to focus on anything other than the pain I'm in.

Holding my right hand up, I call time as my left arm goes up to cover my face as I lay here on the field. My entire foot tingles and goes up my calf almost as if my leg was asleep but so much worse than I'd ever imagined. Holy fuck. Breathing heavily, I try to reel in the tears as I panic. Letting my right arm cover my face as well, I try to figure out what the hell to do from here. The adrenaline of my triple wearing off almost makes the pain worse. So much so that I feel I can't even hear what's going on around me.

Just breathe, Jai, just breathe. I'm making it worse than it is. I just gotta convince myself that. I'm okay, everything is okay. When my breathing slows down a little, I feel a hand on my arm, "Jai, are you okay?" Forcing myself to nod, I take a couple more heavy breaths before sitting up. Resting my arm on my right knee, I look down at my left ankle. "What's up? what happened?" Ken asks.

The trainer is out her crouching right beside Ken as I point to my ankle, more specifically my Achillies. Shaking my head as the realization hits me, I cover my mouth with my arm as I yell, "Fuck."

Ken and our trainer share a look confirming my thoughts as I shake my head again, the anger and frustration of my injury taking over more than anything. Pushing my hands on the ground, I get to my feet, focusing all my weight on my right foot as people start to clap. Testing the waters on my left foot, the pain shoots up my leg, earning another quick cuss word from me. My anger growing gets my ass in gear as I force my way off the field, ignoring the excruciating pain that shoots through with every step. Anything is better than being down on the field, let alone having to be carted off of it.

Managing on my own off the field and into the dugout, I finally accept assistance to make it back to the locker room. The trainer all but carries me back as I hop along on my right foot. When we get into the office, I'm helped onto the paper-covered table. Laying my head back, I close my eyes, the realization that this could be a career-ending injury looms on my mind. Of all the ways to go out, it's the Gold Medal game of the Olympics in my first and potentially my only season.