Page 42 of The Battery

Leo

W e won the first game against the Diamonds and lost the second.

Now, back in Lexington on home turf, we were facing off for the third time to decide our fate.

It was a night game. Outside the stadium the sky had gone black, but inside, the harsh lights made it seem like daytime in the summer.

Temperatures fell to the mid-fifties. Nothing to shiver against and indeed everyone considered this perfect baseball weather.

The Diamonds. Fierce and friendly competitors all at the same time.

I could not have asked for a better start to winning our way to the pennant.

The same went for Cody, I knew. He didn’t play the first two games, but he would play as setup man in this one.

The Diamonds didn’t know he was playing, and it’d be his first game since taking the hit. They wouldn’t be expecting him.

Cody hung with me in the dugout at the bottom of the first. The Diamonds scored a run, so they were off to a good start.

We sat squeezed in the corner, as usual.

He had his chest protector on and, beneath his jersey as it was, it didn’t look overly bulky or noticeable.

I had one foot up on the lowest rail in front of me, leaning toward the field, while Cody sat on the edge of his seat, back straight.

He had been prattling on about how the Assholes would come up and lightly punch his chest, like they were boxing.

I didn’t pay attention. I kept my eyes forward.

My eyes took in the field but it had been overlain with a vision of the future.

Cody had proven himself to be particularly adept at compartmentalizing.

True to my word, we stayed clear of each other the past couple of nights.

Kept the touchy-feely stuff to a minimum.

Stayed far, far away at night when I had business to take care of before sleeping.

He had yet to pack up his things and head back to Freddie’s.

He no longer needed the special bed or to sleep at a forty-five-degree angle.

He knew he could leave. He knew I knew. Yet neither of us brought it up.

I didn’t want him to leave. If he decided, I wouldn’t stop him. But, for once I thought I would ask him to stay.

He had asked a question that pulled me from my thoughts. “What?” I asked.

“I said you’re up soon,” Cody said through a polite laugh. “Aren’t you watching?”

I realized he was right. I popped to my feet. Rome had made it to second base. Freddie was on first. Alvarez was batting and I needed to be on deck.

I nearly shit myself when instinct almost forced me to give Cody a quick peck on the cheek.

Gotta watch yourself , I thought as I breezed past Cody and headed to the circle. I grabbed my bat and, like usual, watched the pitcher instead of taking a few practice swings. Alvarez struck out. The announcer called my name and number and…

The unmistakable guitar intro to “Thunderstruck” by AC/DC blasted over the speakers. The crowd went wild, screaming their lungs out when they got the chance to scream the lyrics. And I…

I fucking loved it. I fed off the energy of it.

It infused me like actual thunder. My face hardened like ice, zeroed in on a single need to get Rome and Freddie to home plate.

I put a swagger in my step, more than usual, and the crowd went wild with it.

My eyes caught the jumbotron. An animation played out of an absurdly muscular Spartan in a red robe and helmet using a thunderbolt as a baseball bat.

Oh, fuck yes , I thought. My new song, along with my own animation. I decided right then and there to buy all the folks in production something extra fancy.

Rome took his lead on second. Freddie did on first. I felt the moment. Felt Archie there with me, standing opposite, mirroring my pose. Out in the crowd, through the screaming, I heard the spirits of my parents.

I’m coming for ya, Uncle Andy , I thought as the pitch was sent. A fastball.

I put lightning into that swing and the solid contact it made with the ball sent thunder through my bones. I knew the moment it touched what it was. I flipped the bat and started a slow jog as my eyes tracked the ball, going, going…

Gone. Beyond the midnight blue wall at the far end.

The crowd ignited in vainglorious fury. Everyone was on their feet as I rounded the bases.

My first hit and we scored three runs on a homer.

I felt electric from my head to my toes as my cleats tapped each one of those bases.

Then finally home, where I jogged back to the dugout to enough ass-slaps and back-claps to send me to the ER.

It fueled the strange consternation I always felt in these situations, never earning a smile from me but instead a deeper, more satisfied look.

Their congratulations only reaffirmed the weight I carried with me. To get this team further.

“Helluva start,” Cody said in the last of a long line of teammates. He clapped me on the shoulder, an odd gesture but understandable given where we were.

“Gotta keep the momentum going,” I told him. And currently, Cody would be a distraction. “You should get over to the bullpen. Get them amped up. We need good energy all around.”

Cody saluted. He probably understood that I needed to send him away since he would become a distraction. Briefly, I marveled at his ability to separate our two needs.

“Yessir,” Cody said.

The bulk of the game passed with a mix of affable rivalry and grit determination.

I leaned out of any attempt from a Diamonds player to lighten the mood.

The more innings that passed, the more I focused.

The Diamonds continued to put up a fight and didn’t give us a chance to eke ahead to secure our spot in the next Wild Card Series.

They managed to score five runs across six innings, and we gained three more after my initial homer.

At the top of the seventh, the score was six to five.

We had the lead and we needed to keep it.

Which was where Cody came in. As our setup man, he needed to keep us in a good spot for two innings.

We ran onto the field together. It felt natural to jog beside him again. I was hit with a wave of thankfulness and desire. Cody beside me. Taking the field.

We bumped fists per our tradition. Damn had I missed that. The jumbotron exploded with light and pulled our attention upward. The cartoon version of me, the Spartan with the helmet and red cape, locked in a forearm hold with… the hell ?

It was an anthropomorphic phoenix, resplendent in flames and wearing a Riders jersey.

“ The Spartan & Phoenix ” was emblazoned in fiery Hellenistic font. Cody halted in his tracks completely to watch the short clip play out. Sounds of a raging fire accompanied the animation.

“Rising from the ashes, baby!” Freddie shouted as he breezed past us to reach his spot.

The smile that overtook Cody’s face. I wanted to take a picture.

I had no doubt every camera was turned on him.

The crowd was already on their feet, cheering his new two-syllable nickname.

The production crew was ready for his return, the crowd was not, and it undulated through them just like his namesake.

“Looks like you’ve got a brand, Hill,” I said to him. He had been slow walking to the mound, still staring and in awe of the animation as it replayed. The Spartan and Phoenix locked forearms together in a strong grip while screaming at the camera.

“Because I almost died?” he said, incredulous but amused. He shook his head, then jogged to the mound. I wanted to send him a whisper, let him know that he needed to savor this moment.

Damn. Seeing him get ready on the mound. Flames emblazoned the jumbotron behind him like he really was a phoenix incarnate. Smiling. The crowd was going absolutely berserk at their favorite new rookie making his comeback.

I’m in love with a relief pitcher , I thought distinctly and clearly.

I dropped into a squat to throw him a few practice balls. My arm moved mechanically by rote. But my mind couldn’t pull itself from the revelation.

The crowd finally died down as the first hitter for the Diamonds stepped up to the plate.

I called for a fastball. Cody’s first throw back on the field. A classic, something he was good at. It just missed the outside corner and the ump called ball one. Next came a slider that dove low for ball two.

C’mon, baby , I thought. Give me something good. I called for a fastball.

Nasty throw. The hitter swung and touched nothing but oxygen. Strike one. He then swung and missed on a changeup for strike two. A curveball came next that hit the dirt. Ball three.

Then a fastball on the edge. Swing and miss. Strike three.

I popped to my feet to stretch and nodded my head like I detected a beat only heard between us. Beautiful Cody had his eyes on me, nodding along to that silent beat.

Batter two. My suddenly love-drunk head got a dose of reality. Cody sent a slider on the first pitch that was hit into the gap in left center. He ran a damned double. I was pissed but glad for the reminder to focus.

Batter three came up next. Our buddy Lawson.

He had already met with Cody prior to the start of the game for an off-camera and private reunion.

Here, on the field, everyone was aware of the two.

Before he stepped up to the plate, Lawson gave an overly dramatic bow toward Cody, then raised his bat in the air like he could pull lightning from the sky.

In return, Cody held up his fist that grasped the ball.

The crowd erupted in cheers at the sportsmanship of it. I exhaled a little cheer myself.

For the first throw, Lawson took a fastball inside for ball one.

I called for another fastball, but it went high and the ump called it ball two.

A changeup came next for a swing and a miss.

Strike one. Cody sent me a slider that Lawson hit as a sharp grounder to third.

Our third baseman fielded it cleanly and threw to first for the out but the runner on second made it to third.

On his way out, Lawson double-tapped his heart and pointed at Cody, who mirrored the gesture.

Yeah, yeah, get a room , I thought. I had the sudden urge to blow Cody a kiss.

The fuck is wrong with me.

Batter four received a curveball for his first throw.

It broke sharply and was called for a strike.

Then came a fastball on the outside which the ump blindly thought was a ball.

Idiot. The batter swung at a curveball that fouled off.

I called for a changeup that Cody rejected.

He sent me the command for a fastball and I didn’t deny him.

He sent me the gift but the batter managed a hit.

It went directly to our shortstop Freddie, who turned a double play, throwing to second and then to first.

The top of the seventh closed without any runs from the Diamonds, just like we wanted. The Riders drained off the field to some pop song for our outro music. Cody jogged up beside me.

“How’s it feel, Phoenix?” I asked him. Cody rewarded me with a laugh.

“ Please don’t start calling me that.”

Back in the dugout, the team practically piled atop Cody for his triumphant return. Half of them called him by his new nickname and I could see on his face how much he didn’t like it. Which would only make things worse because once people realized that it’d be the only name he’d ever have.

I stripped out of my gear, since I was batting third. “Stay in that place mentally,” I told Cody as he stood beside me. “Don’t get distracted. Stay focused. We’ll breeze through the next inning.”

“No pressure,” he said.

I tapped him on his chest, noticeably knocking my knuckles against his chest protector. “How was this?”

His brow went up. “Actually, I completely forgot I had it on until you said something.”

I nodded. “Good. Stay focused, Hill. We’ll win this.”

“Yessir.”

My hitting is shit compared to others, but that’s par for the course when it comes to catchers. We scored another run to put us at seven to five.

And Cody? Well, Cody delivered. No runs at the top of the eighth. He did his job to everyone’s complete satisfaction, as if he hadn’t missed a couple of months because he almost died. Did everyone proud. Did me proud, more than I care to admit.

We won the game by holding the score through the top of the ninth. The Diamonds put up a good fight and we proved our mettle. One step closer to the pennant.

I wanted to take Cody in my arms when we got home but we were both too exhausted to even speak. I’d save it for our break, for the special getaway we had planned. Until then, pure focus.

Except for when my head hit the pillow. Then, and only then, I let fantasy take flight as it carried me to the clouds of dreamland.