Hitching the Pitcher

by Rebecca Connolly

  Belltown wasn’t supposed to challenge them.

  Yet here they were.

  “Let’s go!” Levi called, cupping his hands around his mouth. “Come on, boys!”

  Axel looked up at the clock, grinning broadly. “Ten seconds. Make something happen…”

  “TIM-BER!” the crowd chanted, clapping twice afterwards. “TIM-BER! TIM-BER!”

  Just then, one of the boys intercepted a Franklin pass, darting back towards their basket.

  The crowd roared its approval.

  “GO!” Sawyer bellowed, clapping with the rest.

  The ball was passed to another player, who looked up at the clock as he dribbled down the court.

  “No fouls, no fouls, no fouls, no fouls…” Cole muttered, rubbing his hands together.

  The player slowed his dribbling, gesturing to his teammates to slow, to hold, to wait…

  “Four…” the crowd chanted. “Three… Two…”

  He tossed the ball to Richards again, who jumped and sank another beautiful three-pointer just as the buzzer sounded.

  The crowd exploded as the scoreboard shifted to show Belltown ahead by one point as they went into halftime. Players for Belltown hugged and slapped hands, rubbing the heads of the younger players, while the Franklin players jogged towards the visitor locker rooms with carefully blank expressions.

  The band rose in their section and started playing the Belltown fight song, and the crowd began to clap in time.

  Sawyer and the rest of the Six Pack joined in.

  “Hail to Belltown, hail to thee,

  Proud and tall among the trees.

  Honor, glory, all be thine,

  Calling all to the timberline!

  Alma mater, we stand proud.

  Sons and daughters, rise up now!

  Hail to Belltown, hail to thee

  Lumberjacks, one and all are we!”

  Grizz elbowed Sawyer with a grin, and with every other Lumberjack in the stadium, the Six Pack cupped their hands around their mouths and bellowed, “Ohhhhhhhh!”

  “Away we heave, away we hoe,

  We see and saw and down they go,

  Proud and mighty, strong and true,

  The Lumberjacks are coming through!”

  “Belltown! Belltown!” they all shouted, pumping their fists in the air.

  “Ever grateful, ever there...

  We’re Lumberjacks, the bold who dare!”

  Just as Sawyer had done in the airport with little Scotty, they all echoed the drumroll with a drawn-out, “Ohhhhh TIMBERRRRRRRRR!”

  The percussion section beat out the remaining four beats, cymbals crashing each time.

  Sawyer shook his head, applauding with the rest of Schubert Arena, grinning at the sight of the Belltown mascot, Big Mack the Lumberjack, coming over to greet them. The young man was burly, strapping, and sporting his very own rather impressive dark beard. Clad in the traditional flannel, suspenders, and cap, he twirled his axe on his shoulder, the traditional name carved into the handle.

  Delilah. Bearer of luck, source of all Lumberjack power.

  Thanks to the course he had taken two years ago called the Old Testament as Literature, Sawyer knew what an irony that was.

  Benefits of education.

  “The Six Pack,” Big Mack said with a grin, shaking each of their hands in turn. “Big fan, guys. Great to see you.”

  Grizz shook the guy’s hand hard, nodding in approval. “Definitely a better Big Mack than the one we had before we left. What’s your pushup record, Mack?”

  “Stop, Grizz,” Ryker groaned. “Leave the guy alone, this is not a contest.”

  “Stay out of it, Rabbit,” Grizz growled.

  Big Mack was clearly not intimidated by the Major League status of the men around him. “Two seventy-four.”

  Axel muttered something in Spanish, rubbing his eyes.

  “What Axe Man said,” Cole agreed. “Grizz. Down.”

  Grizz laughed his booming laugh and patted Big Mack on the shoulder. “Heave-ho, my man.”

  Big Mack grinned. “Thanks, Grizz. Good luck this season.” He nodded at them, then turned back out to join the cheerleaders.

  “What about us?” Ryker demanded, flinging his arms out. “Come on now.”

  Sawyer shrugged and heaved a sigh. “Everybody likes Grizz best.”

  Cole snorted. “Says who?”

  “Erica,” he said before he could stop himself. Then he winced, knowing what was coming.

  “TEACH?” at least three of the guys cried, turning to him.

  He put his face against the cement wall. “Yeah.”

  The inquisition would begin in three… two… one…

  “Ladies and gentlemen, please put your hands together for the voices of Lumberjack Radio, Dan Peterson and Pat Connor!”

  The crowd roared, and Sawyer wasn’t sure that sound had caused so much relief before, but it did now.

  “Hey there, Belltown!” Dan called a bit too loudly for the microphone. “Thanks, Ted. Pat and I promise to keep this short and sweet so the LumberJettes can dazzle us all with their program, but first, we have something important to do.”

  “Yeah,” Pat agreed, straightening his tie and grinning around at the crowd. “Some might say it’s an honor. Not that long ago, Belltown did something pretty special. So special, in fact, that we made national news.”

  Sawyer groaned and shook his head. “These guys…”

  “Give ’em a break, Skeet,” Axel scolded, straightening his expensive suit without a tie and smoothing back his hair. “They don’t get out much. Radio and all.”

  A few of the guys chuckled, and they all prepared themselves for their entrance.

  “The Lumberjacks have always had an incredible baseball program,” Dan was saying, “and our legendary coach, Rich Maxwell, is proof of that.”

  There was a pause for massive applause and whistles, which the Six Pack joined in heartily.

  “The winningest coach in collegiate baseball history,” Pat reminded them. “But even he had never done this before. We, the Lumberjack community, sent six of our finest and favorite baseball players into the Major League draft, and all of them got picked up.”

  “To honor our Belltown boys in this tournament,” Dan continued, speaking louder over the growing excitement of the crowd, “and the Belltown boys we’ve sent out, here for you tonight we have Belltown’s very own Six Pack! Ted Shanks, do the honors, please!”

  The lights in Schubert Arena went down, and techno music began to play as blue laser lights and a smoke machine kicked on.

  “Oh wow,” Grizz murmured with a chuckle. “This is epic.”

  The music took on a more intense beat, electric guitars and drums kicking things up.

  “Ladies and gentlemen,” Ted announced deeply, “boys and girls, Lumberjacks of all ages, introducing your Belltown Six Pack!”

  The arena roared in a frenzied pitch.

  “Leading off, playing centerfield, number eleven, now playing for the California Sea Rays, Cole ‘Big Dawg’ Hunter!”

  Cole slipped on his signature sunglasses—mirror lenses reflecting the upper lights—grinned, and jogged out into the arena, a spotlight following him as he moved to center court.

  “Batting second, playing shortstop, number eighteen, now playing for the Seattle Sharks, Axel ‘Axe Man’ Diaz!”

  Axel jogged out, earning some distinctly feminine shrieks as he did so, the spotlight entirely unnecessary but following anyway.

  “Hitting third, the third baseman, number two, now playing for the Minnesota Ice, Levi ‘Steal’ Cox!”

  Levi groaned and made a face. “Minnesota. It even sounds cold to say it,” he grumbled before forcing a smile and running out of the tunnel.

  “Sheesh,” Sawyer muttered to the others. “He’s not over that yet?”

  “Nope,” they replied together.

  “Batting cleanup, playing first base, wearing lucky number seven, now playing for the Baltimore Blue Jays, Ryker ‘Ra
bbit’ Stone!”

  “Nice,” Ryker said as the arena continued to roar, leaving Grizz and Sawyer in the tunnel waiting.

  “I don’t know about that,” Sawyer commented. “A bit much, isn’t it?”

  “Come on, Skeet, this is great!” Grizz laughed.

  Sawyer gave him a wry look. “Uh-huh.”

  “You’re not off the hook about Erica, you know,” Grizz told him as the crowd began to chant his name.

  “Yes, I am,” he shot back.

  “Batting fifth, playing catcher, number nine, now playing for the Pittsburgh Knights, David ‘Grizz’ McCarthy!”

  There was a huge rise in the crowd volume for Grizz, and Sawyer smirked.

  Of course.

  “No,” Grizz told him, “you’re not.” He smacked Sawyer on the back before jogging onto the court, waving.

  Sawyer scowled after his friend. “Yes. I am.”

  “And finally, our hometown hero, the pitcher, now playing for the Columbus Black Racers, wearing number twenty-one, Belltown’s favorite son, Sawyer ‘Skeeter’ Bennett!”

  “No pressure,” Sawyer exhaled, smiling as he made his way out to center court, slapping hands with his teammates just the way they used to, including the chest bump with Grizz. He waved to the crowd, though he couldn’t see a single one of them.

  A highlight reel of the Six Pack began to play on the jumbotron above them, and for a few minutes, all of them were caught up in the nostalgia of their time together: old interviews, old teammates, championship moments, and even some especially ridiculous times that had somehow been caught on camera.

  As the video ended and the lights went up, the band began to play “Hail to Belltown” again, and they all joined in the singing and the clapping.

  This time, as the crowd cried the usual call of “timber,” the drums started another round of rolls, confusing all.

  “Ladies and gents,” Dan and Pat said together, “up in the rafters, to the left of the press box, we will forever honor our Belltown Six Pack!”

  A banner was suddenly unfurled from the rafters, bearing each of their last names, their group name, and the number they had worn in college.

  “Wow,” Grizz breathed beside him. “Can I get teary-eyed now?”

  The guys laughed, all of them waving to the crowd, but Sawyer, despite his teasing, found his own throat a little tight.

  There really was no place like home.

  CHAPTER 3

  “And that should last us until next March, I think. The summer exhibit is still being considered, but I will send out a memo to all when the board has decided.”

  Erica nodded absently, not really listening but making notes on her tablet all the same. She was still mulling over the change in her life that had been reconnecting with Sawyer Bennett.

  Sort of.

  If seeing him on campus could count as reconnecting.

  It certainly felt like reconnecting, but that could just be her wishful thinking. Which was a stunning idea: she actually wanted to reconnect with him.

  Badly.

  Who’d have thought?

  She shook herself, tuning into the meeting briefly, relieved that, as far as she could tell, everything was the same as it had been the last time she’d talked with her boss. It wasn’t unusual for her boss to change her mind over the course of twenty-four hours, or for Erica to suddenly discover changes in a staff meeting, but there was something rather refreshing about actually knowing what was going on.

  What a concept.

  A hand rose down at the opposite end of the table, and Erica bit back a groan.

  “Yes, Jackson,” Angela said with a careful expression, gesturing at him with her pen.

  “Remind me what this summer’s exhibit is,” he replied, looking somehow smug and confused at the same time. “I’ve only just returned from my time at the British Museum, you know, and there has just been so much going on.”

  Erica closed her eyes briefly to save herself from being seen to roll them, and she suspected she was not alone. Jackson had been sent on assignment to the British Museum for a month, much to the envy of all the rest, and he never failed to remind anyone he could that he had spent some time there, “learning from the best” and improving his networking contacts.

  Angela had privately confided that she had sent Jackson away for some peace and quiet, and for the sake of her sanity, not that the British Museum had actually requested one of her staff for anything.

  Still, he was an excellent anthropologist, when he wanted to be.

  “Native American Heritage,” Angela informed him, absently tapping her pen into her palm. “We’re in final discussions with several other museums also doing similar exhibits, and we’re hoping to tie them all together in a series of sorts, something that will help each museum as well as increase awareness and appreciation.”

  Another hand rose, this one much more appreciated. “Kayleigh.”

  Kayleigh swiveled from side to side in her chair, as she usually did when she was thinking. “Shouldn’t we touch base with one of the more culturally focused museums? Phoenix, I know, does an incredible job with theirs.”

  “Which brings me to my next point,” Angela agreed with a nod. “We’re sending an envoy to the Arizona Museum of the Cultural Arts for just that. Someone to ensure that our exhibits are accurate and appropriate, and to bring about more opportunity for future projects. And maybe even to get some of their artifacts on loan, if we butter them up enough.”

  A round of good-natured chuckling went around the table, and Erica shook her head, switching her tablet over to email for the time being. She’d only just finished managing a display on the history of logging and lumber mills, teaming up with several museums in Canada; there was no way she would be considered for the Arizona trip.

  She was looking forward to a break, actually. Between being back and forth to Canada and the trip back home, she’d been living out of a suitcase for far too long, and her plants were more than halfway dead from her neglect.

  Emails from shoe stores about sales, from Belltown U’s alumni chapter asking for donations, from a few restaurants warning her that her perks were about to expire… She scrolled through them, deleting most without reading.

  Junk mail took up at least a third of her inbox, sad to say.

  “So we’ll be sending Erica Moore as our envoy and exhibit ambassador.”

  Her name registered in her ears, but it took a moment for her mind to catch up, though her eyes had stopped focusing on her screen immediately. She looked up at her boss, her cheeks flaming as she reacted instinctively to being called on while not paying attention. “What?”

  Angela smiled, and a few others laughed at her. “We’re sending you to Phoenix, Erica. Numbers were up after your work on the winter exhibit, so the board was unanimous in sending you. You wouldn’t mind spending a few weeks in a warmer climate, would you?”

  Erica grinned, shaking her head. “No, ma’am, I would not. When do I leave?”

  “I’ll email you the details.” Angela nodded in approval, then cleared her throat. “All right, moving on. Claire, what do you have for this summer’s children’s program?”

  Erica let the conversation around her go on without really paying any attention to it. She kept a smile on her face, but her mind spun with the information she had just received.

  Arizona for a few weeks at least. She wasn’t opposed to heading out there, especially when it had been so cold this past winter, but she was exhausted. She was only an assistant curator, not even one of the full curators, and she was being sent out again.

  On the plus side, being off-site meant she could devote more of her time to her online courses. There was a certain degree of freedom in being away from her official place of employment, and more often than not she was able to sightsee and relax while she was there. Or, in this case, teach.

  It was strange, but her career was beginning to take her places, some of which were new and exciting, and yet all she really wanted t
o do was focus on those online courses and teaching. She’d give anything to run the summer children’s program instead of flying here and there to collect and oversee and research. She’d hoped that her work on the Canada projects would give her that opportunity, but now…

  Now it seemed she was doing such a good job in her current position that they were going to give her more responsibilities in that position instead of giving her freedom to maneuver.

  Would it be too much to ask for time to reconsider her trip and for her to go back to Belltown for a weekend? She suddenly wanted to sit down with her mother across their worn kitchen table with a mug of cocoa and some molasses crinkles while they discussed important things late at night.

  But she’d just come back from Belltown, and she highly doubted they would give her another chance to jet off like that. It was already halfway into February, and the pieces and displays for their summer exhibit needed to be set in stone as soon as possible.

  Erica sighed very softly to herself and returned her attention to her tablet. She closed out of her email and opened her notes again, this time going to the notes from the teaching seminar at Belltown.

  A wave of nostalgia hit her, and she found herself smiling without any trouble. It had been amazing to be back on campus, especially with all the excitement over the basketball team. The classes of the seminar had let out early to allow the attendees to go to the game if they had wanted to, and Erica would have given anything to be able to.

  There would have been something so magical about being back in Schubert Arena and hearing the Timberline section and the band, to say nothing about seeing the Six Pack be honored.

  And Sawyer…

  She had so many conflicting emotions about Sawyer, about seeing him on campus and about not joining him and the guys at Mamma Sal’s for pizza. She hadn’t lied to him in any way; it had been really good to see him. Their relationship had always been one she looked on with fondness, the memories making her laugh more often than not. They’d been inseparable, or they would have been, had his schedule permitted it. Baseball was first in his life, and she had known that.