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Awwwww. Poor spoiled babies. How will you ever make it without your mood lighting and big screens?
Mack
Shut up. It’s not too much to ask to have basic necessities, like accessible electrical outlets and a rain showerhead.
I don’t even have a response to that, so I send a slew of laughing face emoticons.
Somehow, over the last couple of months, Mack Granger has become my favorite person to text and talk to. Okay, maybe he’s in a tie with Sophie, but he’s up there and that says something.
Something I never thought I’d say.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
MACK
It’sthe bottom of the seventh inning and Stevens just threw a wild pitch, allowing the runner on third to score. With runners on first and second, our two-run lead is being threatened and I catch Buddy signal for a pitching change from the dugout.
The late evening sun beats down as he jogs to the mound.
I join him, and the rest of the infielders, as we all congratulate Stevens on a good game. He might’ve come unraveled during his last few pitches, but before that, he was throwing aces.
“Good job, Stevens.”
“You pitched a good one.”
“Great job, man.”
Before we break to head back to our designated positions, Buddy looks around our circle, meeting all our eyes. “Keep your heads up and in the game. We’ve got this.”
If we win tonight, we’ll go back to New Orleans as the American League Division Champions, bringing us one step closer to winning a pennant and making an appearance in the World Series for the first time in franchise history.
For our team.
For our city.
It’s so close, we can taste it.
As Owen makes his way out of the dugout, I send up a short prayer that Buddy is right, and I send up another one for Owen. It’s hard coming into an inning with inherited runners, and with one run scored, two more knocking on the door, and no outs, he’s got his work cut out for him.
Once he gets to the mound, we lock eyes. He and I aren’t as in tune as me and Ross, but over the past two seasons, we’ve learned each other’s rhythm and we trust each other implicitly. After a few settling inhales and exhales, he throws a few practice pitches. His arm looks good and I give him a nod.
When the batter is back in the box, I immediately throw down a sign for a fastball.
It’s one of Owen’s best pitches. The dude has some heat. And it’s always a great way to let the batters know you mean business.
“Strike,” the ump calls behind me.
I see the faint smile on Owen’s face and I know he’s in the zone.
Owen throws two more strikes and sits the batter down.
The next batter hits into a double play, bringing the inning to a close.
* * *
“How doesit feel to know you were such a key component to securing this amazing win?” Greer’s smile is so wide, her excitement palpable, as she turns the microphone toward Owen.
He’s not used to being in the spotlight, but I love it for him.
