Total pages in book: 65
Estimated words: 59489 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 297(@200wpm)___ 238(@250wpm)___ 198(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 59489 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 297(@200wpm)___ 238(@250wpm)___ 198(@300wpm)
The crack of the bat was glorious, a perfect sound that immediately elicited memories of summers and beer and hotdogs and freshly cut grass.
“Shit!” Ryan said as he backed up toward the wall.
The ball was soaring through the air, and I flipped my bat dramatically as I skipped toward first, watching it fly. It landed just shy of the wall, deep in right field, and I turned on the jets as I rounded first. Victor went into short right for the cutoff throw as I rounded second, and I could hear them shouting. I hit the third base bag with zero intention of slowing down. I heard the smack of Victor’s glove as Ryan got the ball back into play.
I didn’t look. I dove. Landing hard on the dirt, I slid, and Mark’s glove slammed into my ass just too late as I crossed the plate.
“Safe!” Graham shouted. “Son of a bitch, he was safe!”
I lay there, laughing in exhaustion as I tried desperately to catch my breath. I hadn’t run the bases that hard since I was seventeen, and even then, an inside the park home run was enough to wear me out. At thirty-five, it was far, far worse. And yet, I couldn’t stop laughing.
“Holy shit, dude,” Mark said, sitting down heavily beside me, laughing himself. “You have a wedding to go to. Why are you going so hard?”
“Oh, man,” I said. “Everything hurts.”
“I bet,” Graham said. I looked up and saw the other two join us as well. Everyone was crowded around me.
“Dude, that was nuts,” Ryan said. “I thought for sure we were going to get you out. I was really proud of that cutoff throw.”
“It was on the money,” Victor said. “So was mine. He just beat us.”
“I still got it,” I said, twirling a finger in the air.
“All right, well, when you’re done eating dirt, you have one out left and three runs. No more ghost runners after that play,” Graham said, always the one capable of keeping score in his head. He might not have been great at math in school, but the man could handle five different baseball scores, ghost runners, strikes, balls, outs, and anything else related to baseball easily.
I nodded and forced myself to my elbow. Something twinged in my shoulder, but I ignored it. I often had trouble with that shoulder when doing physical stuff. It hurt, but not that badly. A couple Tylenol and a shot of whiskey should make it fine.
At least enough to get through the ceremony.
“Here we go,” Graham said. “I’m not playing around anymore.”
He was walking back to the mound, and I struggled to my feet, looking for the bat I’d flipped while jogging to first before I turned on the jets. I found it rolled up against the caged dugout and meandered over to pick it up, taking my time so I could catch my breath. When I got back in the batter’s box, I knew I had very little in me, and I half-heartedly swung at two pitches, trying my best to make contact with them and missing. Graham was on a mission to strike me out, and he did so, easily.
After the out, I tossed my bat and helmet to the plate, giving up my spot for Victor to come in and take his shot. Ryan was already on his way to the infield, cycling closer to the plate for his next at-bat. As he passed me, Victor tossed me his glove, and I slipped it on, heading into the outfield. I was barely on the short grass when Ryan called out my name.
“Huh?” I asked.
“I said are you all right?”
“Yeah, I’m fine, just tired from running,” I said.
“No, not that,” Ryan said, jogging over to me. We both glanced at the rest of the guys. Graham was stretching his arm, Mark his legs, and Victor was just fitting the helmet on his head. We had a few moments to kill.
“I’m good,” I said. “Nervous. But good.”
“Nervous about the wedding or being married?”
“The wedding, I think,” I said. “I’m more excited than anything to be married. Kristen is… man, I’m in love with that woman.”
Ryan smiled and smacked me on my shoulder. The twinge inside got a little louder, but I tried not to let on to it.
“I know how that feels,” he said. “We all were talking the other day about how much you’ve changed this year.”
“For the better, I hope,” I said. Ryan nodded.
“For the better,” he said. “Not as finicky and gruff all the time.”
“Hey now.”
Ryan put his hands up, the glove comically larger than the other hand.
“Just saying,” he said. “We’re glad to see you happy for once. She’s been good for you. We’re just happy for you, bro.”
“Thanks, Ryan,” I said. “I appreciate that.”
“All right, enough with the sappy bullshit,” Ryan said. “We’ve got two hours before we have to get you back to the ranch and get you ready for the wedding.”