Keeping The Book In Baseball Novels & Stories

"Let's go. I need a drink." After spending another minute putting each pile in its proper place, I moved the baseball in its holder so that the signature of Sandy Koufax, which was scrawled in blue ink between the red stitching, was facing outward. Andrew walked away without checking to see if I was following him. When he returned, he was impatient and knocked on the glass wall that separated my office from the hallway in order to get my attention.

His car roared away while I stood in stunned silence. "What the hell's in the box, sis?" I walked to the table and lifted the lid, handing one of the Plexiglas-encased balls to my brother. It was marked with a small plaque showing the name and date. "Holy shit, it's a Babe Ruth." At least it was someone I'd heard of and I didn't feel stupid. I picked up another, lifting it to the dim light. Mickey Mantle, someone else I'd heard of, so I knew these balls were worth some money.

Meri finishes as she catches on. “Yes, but it’s not as clean as baseball or follows its rules, so it’s more of a cat and mouse game then baseball play. But yeah, it’s a mix of who’s where and what’s there, while at same time wondering who’s your opponent’s or your allies’.” I say to finish this very confusing talk. “But I thought the joke was about the players stationed at the bases and the pitchers’ teammates, not the runners.” Meri asks just as I think we have it all solved. Throwing me hands in the air I slumped in the chair and stared at the ceiling.

POV: Miller (The Rival) The locker room smells like sweat and desperation. I love it. It’s the scent of a throne being vacated, and I’m the first in line to sit down. I leaned against the cool metal of my locker, tossing a weighted baseball into the air. Catch. Toss. Catch. Across the room, Kai sat on a wooden bench. He looked like a man waiting for his execution. His head was down. His shoulders were slumped. The golden boy of the university baseball team was tarnished.

“We’re putting Michael in at left field next inning. Moving Robby to right, and Tom’s going to pitch.” “Got it.” She smiled at her dad as he nodded and then resumed her seat as Richard Monroe headed off to give the scorekeeper for the other team the changes. Beth made note of them in the scorebook immediately and checked she hadn’t missed a pitch. “Strike, right?” “Of course it was a strike,” Andi groaned, as if she had any stake whatsoever in the game. “Joe just stands there and watches them fly by.”