Could I Be? (BxB)

Chapter 21 - Final Chapter

Goddamn, my shoulder is killing me. Nine straight innings of throwing and it feels like my arm is about to fall off. But I suck down the pain and focus on the dark center of the brown leather glove that's calling out to me. I pick up my leg and let my screaming shoulder rotate forward and the ball leaves my fingertips.

A second later, I hear the sweet sound of leather colliding with leather. "Strike!" the umpire yells. "You're out!"

The crowd roars and Ben Judi, a Yankee, takes his bat and jogs back to his dugout. Two more outs and we've won. I gaze around the stadium and see orange, black, and white filling the seats, the fans cheering at the top of their lungs. I see my teammates ready for whatever comes their way, pure determination in their faces.

My catcher motions to the umpire, who holds his hands up and steps back from the plate. I sigh to myself, thankful for a bit of a break. "How you holding up, Swanson?" Jack asks with his glove over his face.

"My arm is fucking on fire, Jack," I say, holding my glove over my own face. "I'm not sure how much longer I can hold out."

"Yeah, I can tell. And I think the Yankees are noticing it too."

I glance over at the Yankee dugout and see the team members talking to one another and looking at me with a knowing look. "Damn," I whisper. "We need to end this quickly."

"Do you think you'll be able to throw another few pitches?"

"I'll have to. We're up by one right now and there are runners on second and third. If they get a good hit, they win the game. So we need to end this."

Jack lowers his glove, grins, and holds out his fist for me and I bump it. He jogs back to home plate and gets back into his position. The next Yankee batter steps up to the plate and takes a few practice swings. Jack gives me the sign for a curveball and I nod once. I rotate my shoulder once and stand on my plate, feeling my fingers find the right grip on the ball.

I take in a deep breath and pick up my leg and let my arm fly forward. The ball sails out of my hand and flies toward the plate. It starts to dip just before getting to the plate and it sails into the glove of Jack without the Yankee swinging for it. "Strike!" the umpire calls.

Breathing a sigh of relief, I catch the ball as Jack tosses it back. Just five more strikes and we've won. The roar of the crowd shakes my body with nervousness and excitement, but the excitement clouds the nervousness. I mean, we're just five good pitches away from winning the World Series! My body shakes again at the words.

Jack punches his glove twice before holding it open and giving me the sign for a change-up. I glance at the batter and see he's completely focused on me and not the ball in my hand, so a change-up is a good choice. My fingers surround the ball and I stand up straight and tall, feeling more than eighty thousand eyes on me.

Ready for whatever's coming next, I tighten the ball and raise my leg. My foot slams onto the mound and my arm flies forward, blood rushing to the tips of my fingers as I release the ball. The ball's speed quickly drops and the batter starts to swing his bat. Just as I think the ball's about to land in Jack's glove, I hear a wooden crack.

Time slows to a crawl and I see the ball start to move in my direction. Pure instinct taking me over, my body jumps back and I raise my gloved hand in front of my chest. Less than a second later, I feel a hard thud in my glove and I manage to keep my footing. I feel the ball in glove and I quickly reach for it.

I gaze at the runners and see they're still on their bases. The stadium erupts in cheers and yells at the knowledge that we only need one more out. The Yankee who hit the ball, Diego Cruz, takes his bat and heads back to the Yankee dugout and the next batter comes out and heads to the plate.