Hitching the Pitcher

by Rebecca Connolly

  “No,” Erica gasped in mock surprise before rolling her eyes. It was the most obvious thing in the world. Mace knew everyone and everything; he had impeccable instincts for sniffing things out and an insatiable curiosity. He was the go-to guy if you wanted information on anyone in the majors.

  He was dangerous that way.

  She wondered just what he knew about the Six Pack.

  And what she could tell him.

  She smiled to herself, glancing back over to Sawyer and Adam, now wearing their hats inside out and backwards, still on the fence, now shouting encouragements to their teammates.

  What dorks.

  Adorable dorks, but still.

  Hanks struck out the first two batters, prompting Sawyer and Adam to pound the fence rails in enthusiasm.

  Erica nudged Hannah. “Think they’re excited?”

  Hannah looked, then sighed in despair. “I swear he’s an adult. He is.”

  Jess hummed to herself, ignoring the dugout completely. “Do you ever really look at your man in baseball pants and just want to say thank you?”

  “What?” Erica laughed, looking at the redhead in shock.

  She shrugged, chomping on more popcorn. “Serious. That’s my man down there, and he is just so nice even from this angle. Every time the ump moves away from him, it’s just… Mmm.” She shook her head and pretended to shiver. “Money.”

  Hannah and Erica shared a bewildered look. “I guess…” Erica said slowly.

  “Give me a tailored suit over a baseball uniform any day,” Hannah huffed with a crooked smirk. “That’ll get me shivering.”

  The crowd suddenly gasped, and all three women sat up, too caught up in the conversation to have seen what happened.

  Hanks lay on the mound, gripping his right elbow, teeth clenched.

  “Oh no,” Erica breathed, looking up at the jumbotron for a replay.

  Hanks had pitched the ball as usual, but his arm had snapped into a strange sidearm throw, his forearm almost going slack and the ball going wide.

  Erica hissed and looked back out on the field where Sarge, Damien—who coached the pitchers—Mace, and a gray-haired man in a polo now crowded around Hanks.

  “Where’s Jamie?” Hannah asked at once, looking around and getting out of her seat. “She’s going to be a mess.”

  “Who’s with Sarge and Mace?” Erica whispered to Jess.

  “Doc,” she replied. “He’s the head athletic trainer.” Her expression was tense, and her hands clenched.

  Erica looked over at the dugout, where Sawyer and Adam had leaped the fence, their hats off, staring at their fellow pitcher in horror.

  Now what happened?

  She looked back to the mound, where they were able to sit Hanks up, then help him to his feet and awkwardly walk him off the field.

  Damien jogged over to Sawyer, put his hand on his arm, and Erica saw Sawyer stiffen, swallow, and nod. Then he shucked his warmup, giving it to Adam, grabbed his cap and mitt, and jogged out to the mound.

  “What’s happening?” Erica demanded. “Sawyer doesn’t pitch until tomorrow!”

  Jess shook her head, her mouth gaping slightly. “This almost never happens. It’s too early in the game for a reliever, I guess. Mace says they don’t have a good long reliever yet, so they’re moving up the rotation so they don’t burn through multiple relievers. Oh man.” She glanced at Erica, then turned to her more fully. “It’s going to be fine. Sawyer’s great under pressure, and we shouldn’t have any trouble with this team. It’s fine.”

  Erica swallowed and nodded as she watched Sawyer and Mace chat on the mound, then as Mace jogged back behind home plate and caught a few warmup pitches from Sawyer.

  Sawyer didn’t look fine.

  He didn’t look fine at all.

  CHAPTER 10

  “Well, it was a bit of a shocking loss for the Black Racers in preseason games today down in the Cactus League. They went down five to one to the Kansas City Hawks, and really, this game was over before it ever reached the third inning, Brett.”

  “Sure was, Kyle. Look at this, Nate Hanks, arguably their best pitcher, third batter of the game. Of the game, Kyle. We’re still in the top of the first here!”

  “And it’s an ugly one. You can see him release that ball early, goes wide for a wild pitch, Mason Benjamin catches, and down goes Hanks. He just grabs that right elbow, and you knew he was done for the night, and could be the rest of the season.”

  “They’re calling it an olecranon fracture, Kyle, but with a pitcher, you’ve gotta wonder about those ligaments. No one is saying Tommy John surgery yet, but you gotta wonder.”

  “The game could have been saved, manager Mark Palmer making the bold move of not going with a reliever. Instead he pulled starting pitcher Sawyer Bennett, a Six Pack guy. Brett, can you explain what happened here?”

  “I can’t, Kyle. I just can’t. He started off okay, but he was just not in his groove tonight.”

  “None of them were. Errors in the outfield and slow responses… Not a good night for the Racers, Brett. Mark Palmer has gotta be scratching his head today. We might see some interesting lineup changes for today’s game against Baltimore.”

  Sawyer switched off the TV, tossing the remote onto the cushion beside him, though he continued to stare at the screen as if it were still on.

  He couldn’t explain what had happened last night. Nothing had been wrong, his arm had felt good, and he’d closed out the first inning without a problem. They’d warmed him up a bit more during the bottom of the first while his team batted, and going into the second, he’d thought he could keep up Hanksy’s great start.

  But things had fallen apart.

  The infield had had their work cut out for them, and they’d kept his mistakes from getting too out of hand. But that hadn’t lasted the whole game, and by the seventh, it was like they had never played together before.

  They’d all been shaken up by seeing Hanksy go down, and every pitcher in the world feared that exact scenario, but there was no excuse for completely abandoning their skills and practice to a team they should have easily beaten.

  Sarge had pulled Sawyer from the game in the seventh, when it became apparent that he was useless on the mound, and Cavins had closed them out easily and with quick efficiency. He’d ensured his position on the team with that showing, and Sawyer was proud of him.

  It shouldn’t have been necessary, but he would give credit where credit was due.

  Sawyer would have given anything to not face his team today, to not show up for the game and to avoid sitting in the dugout with them. He was supposed to be a team leader, a captain without officially being a captain. The pitcher set the tone for the entire team, and the tone he had set had been a miserable one.

  He hadn’t talked to a single person after the game. He’d have gone straight to the locker room after he had been pulled if he didn’t think that would be splashed all across the sports pages and broadcasts. He wasn’t a player with a temper or foul attitude, and he wasn’t going to become one now.

  It had been torture to sit there and watch the team play below their potential, knowing he had led them there.

  Erica had tried to make him feel better, but nothing had helped. She didn’t understand. He needed to do something, not just get over it or move on.

  Bad games happened, and he was no stranger to them.

  This hadn’t been just a bad game.

  This had been a horrible game.

  Miserable.

  The sort of game that made people question.

  Sawyer more than anyone.

  They played Baltimore today. Rabbit’s team.

  They’d been excited about playing against each other and seeing if Ryker could get a piece of one of Sawyer’s pitches.

  Now he would be trying to get a piece of Indy’s.

  Didn’t do anything for the Six Pack rivalry. The media would be disappointed.

  Not that he cared.

  Win or lose, one of them wou
ld be buying dinner for the other, and that was it. No bets today, just a meal.

  Sawyer wished he were pitching tonight. He could redeem himself for yesterday. He could prove himself better—the pitcher everybody expected and wanted him to be.

  Not the loser from last night.

  His phone buzzed, and he pulled it from the pocket of his hoodie, glancing at the screen.

  It was from Erica.

  Hey, babe. Hope you slept well. Love you.

  He swallowed. He’d probably hurt her last night, being a bit short and letting his frustration get the better of him. But she was a tough girl, and she’d held his hand the entire drive home, softly stroking her thumb against his hand.

  That had been the only comforting thing he’d had all night.

  No comforting words, no pats to the back, no encouragement, just that.

  Just her skin brushing against his.

  It hadn’t made everything better, but it had taken the edge off.

  He knew better than to alienate himself from her or from anyone else. He was better than that now, and wiser too. He knew he needed her.

  He didn’t know what to do, or how she could help, but he needed her.

  He exhaled and typed out a quick Love you too, and he leaned his head back against the couch after sending it.

  The phone buzzed again, and he furrowed his brow, hoping Erica wasn’t trying to have a conversation about feelings this early in the morning. It would be a very short conversation, and she wouldn’t get much out of it.

  He looked at the phone, then raised his head.

  Six Pack group text.

  Cole had kicked it off. Anybody see Grizz dive into the stands last night? So graceful.

  Sawyer actually managed a smile at that. No, he hadn’t seen it. He’d been so concerned with his own game that he hadn’t even paid attention to how anyone else had done.

  Levi was the first to respond. All those dance classes he took really paid off, huh? Pointed toes and all.

  Axel posted three quick GIFs of spectacular falls, then replied, I give it a 5. His takeoff was horrible.

  Ryker reacted to the GIFs with laughing emojis before saying, AND he knocked over that kid’s nachos.

  Sawyer laughed now and typed, Not the nachos! Grizzy, did you pay for more?

  Whatever, you guys, Grizz replied. Perfect swan dive, and I got the redhead’s number for you, Steal.

  Sawyer had no idea what he was talking about, but he wasn’t going to switch the TV back on to find out. He didn’t want to see any more sports highlights right now, especially since he was destined to hear more about himself before he saw anything amusing about Grizz.

  He could play along with the reactions, though, and act as though he were fully caught up.

  They’d never know, and they wouldn’t talk about his night. Unspoken rule of the Six Pack: never talk about bad games. Losses were okay, but any really bad nights were never brought up.

  Levi sent three thumbs up, then added, But what about the nachos???

  The rest were all quick to agree with that before Grizz replied, I gave the kid the ball and we took a selfie. He’s fine.

  Cole fired back at once. Grizz selfies pay for nachos now? Shoot, I’ll be eating nachos for weeks.

  Axel jumped into the fray with, Game balls are going as currency? Can I get a soft pretzel, please?

  Sawyer threw in a couple of jabs about working on grace, coordination, and core strength to improve proper stands-diving form, and Ryker brought up the more crucial point of asking if Grizz actually caught the ball.

  Yes, you scwewy Wabbit, I did, he replied, attaching a GIF of Elmer Fudd with a rifle.

  Never to be outdone, Ryker replied with a GIF of Bugs Bunny running circles around a very confused Elmer Fudd.

  Sawyer shook his head. This was going to get ugly.

  Looks like it’s Rabbit season, boys, Grizz replied. Tell your guys to hold nothing back tonight, Skeeter.

  No one said anything for a bit, and Sawyer wondered if they were feeling as uncomfortable as Sawyer himself was about the statement.

  Probably not, but it might still strike them as awkward all the same.

  There was no way they were as uncomfortable as he was.

  They couldn’t be.

  Sawyer replied quickly, just a brief You got it, and then he dropped the phone on the couch, pushing off of the couch himself and moving towards the bedroom to change. He was going to the park early to get some film time in, toss a few pitches just to loosen up, check in with Doc and Kayla about starting preventative rehab for his arm, and, if there was still time before the team left for the game, get some studying for History of Sport in.

  He’d been neglecting his coursework lately, which couldn’t have been a surprise given his schedule as well as his dating life with Erica, but Hanksy’s injury gave him pause.

  Injuries could happen to a pitcher at any time. The strain on their shoulders and arms was incredible, and even someone who had no history of issues could suddenly develop some—and potentially serious issues at that. Season-ending issues.

  Career-ending issues.

  And then he would be really stuck.

  This was why his dad had wanted him to get his degree, but Sawyer hadn’t listened.

  He had to finish as soon as possible. He needed a backup for his life if disaster struck.

  And he needed to focus, practice, and prepare to avoid needing that backup at all.

  He needed to do it all now.

  * * *

  It was one of the most uncomfortable baseball games she had ever sat through in her entire life.

  Sawyer hadn’t even been playing, and she felt that.

  Someone who didn’t know him would have thought Sawyer Bennett simply very focused on the game, watching from the dugout and standing at the fence there.

  She wouldn’t deny that he was exactly that; she also knew it wasn’t just focus.

  He was completely engrossed. He watched every move Adam made on the mound, every twitch a batter made, every ball he pitched, and every replay as though he’d be tested on it later. And he paid just as much attention to the visiting team.

  When his teammates returned to the dugout for batting, he barely spoke to any of them. Adam and Mace were able to get some conversation out of him, but that was it. When Jesse was put in as reliever in the sixth inning, Sawyer became even more intent.

  Erica couldn’t understand why. Sawyer wasn’t a reliever, and he’d never been. Jesse was their best reliever, she’d been told, but he was a pitcher for quick efficiency, not endurance.

  Adam had had a great game, so she had to guess Sarge was just saving him, since they were winning.

  The team looked far better today than they had the last game.

  Sawyer clearly noticed too.

  His emotions on that fact were less clear. He would absolutely have been proud of his team and happy they were succeeding, but he didn’t look proud or pleased. He showed no emotion whatsoever.

  No signs of pleasure, no bursts of anger, no expression of victory.

  He was just… there.

  Baltimore was a good team, but the Black Racers really gelled and proved their skills. The media had tried to make a point of the Six Pack; she saw them pull Sawyer from the dugout before the game for a picture with Ryker.

  He hadn’t smiled.

  He and Ryker had chatted just before the game had started, but not extensively, and the only thing she could say about Sawyer was that he had shaken Ryker’s hand and patted him on the back.

  She wasn’t sure how the Six Pack usually greeted each other on the field, but that didn’t seem like their usual way.

  Something was definitely up, and she knew it was about yesterday’s game, but she didn’t know more than that. He wasn’t talking about it, and she didn’t think she ought to push.

  No one could blame him for being off yesterday, not after seeing Hanks go down and then having to come in unexpectedly. It had been a risky m
ove for Sarge and one she definitely did not agree with. The whole team had been off after that, and there was nothing Sawyer could do about that. He was not responsible for the entire team and how they played, and he ought to know that.

  Erica would have told him all of this if only she had a moment to actually talk to him.

  He hadn’t said much at all last night, and she hadn’t even seen him this morning. He’d said he needed to prep for the game, but they would talk later.

  She got that he needed space, and she would give it to him, but she couldn’t help being worried.

  Jess and Hannah had started off sitting by her again, but once it became clear that Erica wasn’t going to be much more talkative than Sawyer was being, they had drifted away to sit with some of the others. She didn’t mind, and she knew they wouldn’t take offense.

  One of the responsibilities of the significant other of a professional athlete was to bear their burdens with them, small or great, and Erica wasn’t entirely sure which category this fell into.

  Until she knew the extent of it, and how to help, she simply had to bear it.

  Which was maddening.

  She wanted to do something, say something—anything, really, if it would help him. It had been years since she’d had to deal with a bad game for Sawyer, and she couldn’t be sure that what had worked before would work now. He was more mature now, more seasoned, but what impact would that have on things like this?

  With all that he had revealed to her the other day—a moving, vulnerable, raw confession—she couldn’t be sure. Nothing had ever touched her more than his confiding in her, and she treasured the trust and respect he had shown. She loved him for it, knowing how difficult it must have been to share those things, and how determined he was to appear strong and proud at all times.

  But knowing those things gave her more reason for concern and added multiple layers to the possibilities of what was affecting him.

  If he didn’t tell her, how could she know?

  Time, she reminded herself. Give him time.

  Time she could give. Patience she could give.

  Love she could give.

  If only he would give to her. Insight, for one thing, and a direction he needed her to take.