Is it the best hype song? Probably not.
The best choice in general? Definitely not.
But it gets my point across. And it gives me a good chuckle, which is exactly what I’m doing as I leisurely stroll up to the plate, twirling my bat beside me, as if I was out for a nice evening walk and not at my job.
I’m just outside the batter’s box, swinging the bat around a bit to stretch my arms out and smirk at the ground as the song’s lyrics kick in about getting knocked down, getting back up, and how they’re never going to keep him down.
I swing the bat up and stretch it out in the direction of where I know the studio is, where Isa should be right about now. Withthat, I step fully up to the plate and position the bat up over my shoulder, ready for the first pitch.
Okay, so maybe it is a pretty good hype song.
Isabella
“The bastard’s gone and done it again!” someone across the studio shouts, and this time I know enough to know exactly what they’re talking about.
Ryan Fletcher changed his walk-up song. Again.
This is the second home game now that he’s had a different song since he started with the team.
Fletcher is swinging the bat around, stretching his arm, head tilted toward the ground so I can’t see his face. But knowing him, I’m willing to bet that son of a bitch is smiling.
“Does anyone know what song this is? I recognize it but I can’t for the life of me figure out what it’s called!” a sound engineer shouts across the small studio.
“Hold on, I can Shazam it.”
I press my face as close to the studio window as possible, trying to listen closely but the words aren’t very loud to start. Eventually they pick up, and I can make them out more clearly right as Fletcher swings the bat in my direction up toward the studio, and I’m almost positive the fucker winks. It’s an innocent enough motion that I don’t think anyone else knows what he’s doing, butIknow.
And that’s his intention.
His only goal.
I’m gonna kill him.
“Found it! It’s called ‘Tubthumping’ by some band called… Chumbawamba?” Jamie calls back, words stilted as if he’s unsure about what he’s reading.
“Did you saytub thumping?”
“What the fuck is a Chumbawamba?”
“Why on earth that song?”
I hope he understands how much chaos he’s caused in this studio by changing the song.Again.
Standingon the field for the post-game interviews, I’m bracing myself. For once, they’re not pulling Fletcher for an interview, but I know he’s going to make himself at home by the crew anyway. It’s a shocker they didn’t opt for him what with the new song choice again. But my guess is that since he was tightlipped on it the first time—a fact I remain eternally grateful to him for—they assume he’s unlikely to spill the details this time around as well. It honestly makes me feel all warm and fuzzy on the inside that he respects the rules around my job to not call attention to me and what he’s trying to do. It’s like our little secret.
You shouldn’t even have a little secret with him, my conscience whispers to me.
Shut up, I hiss back.
I’ve done such a great job at avoiding another FaceTime situation with him, blowing him off every time he tried. But I mean, how could I even look him in the eye after my moment of weakness the other night? A moment of weakness that canneverhappen again. Not at all. Never. If I were to end up beinghis friend, I can’t be getting off to thoughts and images of him. That’s not very friend-like and entirely too hypocritical of me.
A flash of movement catches my eye, derailing my thoughts as I spot Cooper jogging out from the dugout and heading our way to get geared up for the interview. As I watch him, I can’t help but compare him to Fletcher. Where Fletcher is broad, Cooper is lean. They’re both nearly identical in height which for my five-foot-four self istall. Fletcher keeps his hair long to the point it curls around his ears and pokes out from under his baseball cap, but Cooper keeps his dark hair trimmed shorter. He also keeps his face clean shaven where Fletcher likes to maintain a light dusting of stubble.
And as predicted, Fletch is hot on his heels.
I roll my eyes and turn my body so I’m facing away from him. The heat radiating off his body clues me in to his proximity before he makes his presence known.
“So, you gonna knock me down again?” he asks, humor lacing his words.
