Heart of the Game

by Rachel Spangler

  “It was enough today. We made it through, together, as a team.”

  She felt her resistance crack. She found it harder to focus on some shadowy future with Duke so close and reassuring in the present. “But this is just one day, one example of all the things we can’t prepare ourselves for. I worry about what else might pop up.”

  “Things will come up. You cannot anticipate everything, and you cannot overcome a challenge that hasn’t presented itself yet.”

  “So what am I supposed to do? Sit around and wait for the next attack?”

  “No, it’s just what I told Joe, and what I said in the article to begin with. We have to keep going. We have to keep doing things the right way. Other than that, we take one game at a time.”

  “My family isn’t a game.”

  “Of course not, but the same concepts hold. We can’t freak out or hide ourselves away or let a stranger steal all the good things we have between us. We can’t let them terrify us into changing who we are, or they win.”

  Molly shook her head. She wanted to argue. She wanted to take some drastic measure, to rearrange the world into a more loving place, or at least bubble-wrap her sons and lock them in the apartment, but Duke was so maddeningly right. She couldn’t let some asshole keep her from being who she was, and she couldn’t keep her boys in a bubble. All she could do was take each battle as it came. “One at a time,” she repeated slowly.

  Duke kissed her head then, and as if to punctuate the point added, “Together.”

  Top of the Seventh

  It’s a Long Season

  “Damn, it’s hot,” Cooper grumbled as he wiped sweat from his forehead and dropped with a loud thud into his seat.

  Duke set aside the spreadsheets she’d downloaded on the Phillies offense and checked to see if the armpits of her polo were soaked through as badly as Coop’s. They weren’t, but after another hour in the stands they might be. Molly had texted; they were almost to the stadium. She wished she could bring her and the boys up to the booth, but kids in computer central this close to game time was a non-starter.

  “Did you hear me, Rook?” Cooper asked. “It’s hot as balls on the field. Not that you’d know anything about that.”

  “About how hot your balls are? No, thank God. I’m blissfully ignorant.”

  “You know enough about busting them. Geez, are you on your woman time or something?”

  She gave him her best you-did-not-just-say-that stare.

  “Kidding,” he lied.

  She stood and collected her tablet and phone.

  “Where ya going?”

  “Taking a walk.”

  “Outside? I wasn’t kidding about the heat, just the woman parts. One of the grounds crew guys said the temp reading at home plate registered a hundred and fourteen degrees.”

  Her shoulders sagged. Welcome to St. Louis in late August, the only time of the year she wished she’d been born a Twins fan, or a Blue Jays fan, or any other team from a temperate climate or a dome. No, not a dome. Things weren’t that bad, but maybe she’d consider a retractable roof. It was also one of the only times she felt sorry for the players. It didn’t matter how much money a person made. No one could train his body to enjoy three hours of maximum exertion at one hundred and fourteen degrees.

  “The players are out in this heat, the fans, too. I wouldn’t be doing my job if I didn’t at least check in with them.”

  It was Cooper’s turn to roll his eyes. “Fine, if you want to risk heatstroke to bust out your twitters, go ahead.”

  She laughed as she headed for the door. She suspected he knew what a tweet was and chose to keep saying it wrong to annoy her, but her mind was already on the little family sitting in the sun.

  “Hey,” she said, laying a hand on Molly’s shoulder. She wanted to lean down and kiss her cheek, but given their conversation last week about exposing the kids publicly, she refrained from too much physical contact.

  Molly looked up, her tan skin seeming even darker against the white of her T-shirt. “Hey, how are you holding up?”

  “I’m fine. The press box is cooler.”

  “Lucky you.”

  “How about you, Joe? Staying hydrated?”

  He held up a bottle of Gatorade. “I’m fine. Will the players be okay?”

  She marveled again that a nine-year-old had the capacity to worry about the players more than his own discomfort, but she wasn’t surprised. “Some of them may be moving a little slow by the end of the game, but they’re professionals and they have amazing trainers to help them stay hydrated. They’ve been getting tons of fluids and eating bananas like a bunch of monkeys.”

  “I’m a monkey.” Charlie finally acknowledged her. When he looked up his cheeks were as red as the bill of his cap.

  “Oh, buddy, you’re already sweltering.”

  “No, I’m not,” he pouted. “I’m too hot.”

  “That’s what ‘sweltering’ means. Too hot.”

  Duke and Molly exchanged a look of concern.

  “Are you coming over tonight?” Joe asked.

  “I leave for Colorado tomorrow morning.”

  “Then Chicago, then Washington D.C.,” Joe recited.

  “It’s the longest road trip left on the schedule.” Duke tried to lessen the communal sadness settling over them, every bit as stifling as the ungodly heat.

  “Nine games,” Molly said. “And we won’t get to say good-bye tomorrow morning.”

  She got the hint. She didn’t look forward to the road trip any more than they did. She didn’t relish the thought of saying good-bye in a ballpark either. She wanted to pull Molly into her arms and kiss her soundly to give them both something to go on until they saw each other again. She’d have to leave for the airport at six to make her flight, though. If she went to Molly’s, neither one of them would be able to keep their hands off each other. Starting a nine-day road trip on a sleep deficit was a terrible idea. Then again, leaving without a proper send-off sounded pretty horrible, too.

  “All right, I’ll come over. We can say good-bye in the morning if you get up early and promise to get some more sleep after I go.”

  “I promise,” Joe said.

  “Promise,” Charlie echoed.

  She looked at Molly, who said, “I promise to do my best.”

  “And when I get back it’ll be September, and maybe the weather will turn for us.” The players took the field. She needed to get to work soon, and she wanted to end on an optimistic note.

  “Remember, school starts that week,” Molly warned.

  Her heavy sigh must’ve sounded like Joe’s. Even when the Cardinals had home games in nice weather, the kids wouldn’t attend night games. That also meant they’d have to get moving a lot earlier in the mornings. And she’d be gone to work when they got home.

  “It’s the longest season in all of professional sports,” she said with a shrug. For the first time in her life she didn’t find the fact comforting.

  “I wish we could go with you,” Joe said.

  Duke caught Molly’s eyes over his head and raised her eyebrows. Molly shook her head slowly. Duke frowned, then lifted her hands, palms up, hoping to convey “Why not?”

  Molly shook her head again.

  Duke pulled out her phone and typed, Just to Chicago. I can fly back here after Kansas City, then we can drive up together.

  She hit send, and a second later Molly’s phone buzzed. She picked it up and smiled faintly, then began to type until Duke’s phone vibrated in her hand.

  She opened the text message to a simple and definitive I have to work. I’m trying to get promoted.

  She thought for a moment, then typed, You’d only have to miss Friday. We could be back Sunday night. Let’s go away together before the boys go back to school. It’ll be good for them.

  Molly rolled her eyes when she got the text, but she smiled, too. Was she considering it? Why wasn’t she typing? Duke didn’t want to push, but she also worried the longer Molly waited, the more reasons s
he’d think of not to go. She was such a pragmatist.

  Duke typed more. I’ll see if the hotel has an adjoining room available, and I’ll throw in a trip to Navy Pier after the game on Saturday.

  Molly looked at the text but didn’t respond in kind. Instead she pursed her lips and said, “Don’t you have work to do?”

  “All right,” Duke said, “but think about it. Please?”

  Molly nodded.

  “Think about what?” Joe asked.

  “Getting you kids out of this heat and to bed early so you can say good-bye to me properly tomorrow morning.”

  “Oh,” Joe sounded disappointed. “Okay.”

  “See you tomorrow,” she said, but as she was walking away, Molly caught her hand.

  “Thank you.”

  “For what?”

  “For looking out for us.”

  Duke grinned. How could she not? “Of course.”

  She’d just entered the press booth when her phone buzzed again. Molly’s message read, Okay, I thought about it.

  Already? And?

  I can find a way to make Chicago work if you can.

  Duke let out a whoop and pumped her fist in the air. Several other sportswriters turned to stare, and she slid a little lower in her chair.

  “What are you so freaking chipper about?” Coop asked.

  “We’re going to Chicago.”

  A couple people around her nodded slightly. Chicago meant cooler temperatures, more day games and easy wins, but for Duke, now it also meant three away games were going to feel a lot more like a home stand.

  *

  “How much longer do we have to go?” Joe asked in a voice loud enough to be heard over Charlie’s wailing.

  “I don’t know.” Duke gripped the steering wheel so tightly her knuckles turned white. “Only ten more miles to the hotel, but that could be another hour in this traffic.”

  “I thought this drive lasted only four and a half hours.”

  “Apparently I was wrong.” A fact that should’ve been evident to all of them hours ago. They’d started on the road late since the frustrating task of jamming everything they’d need for four people for three days into the car took longer than expected. She also hadn’t planned on the hourly potty breaks or the stop-and-go traffic they’d crawled through for more than an hour now. Charlie’s screaming along the way hadn’t actually added any time to the trip, but it sure felt that way.

  “Duke, please,” Charlie begged at the top of his lungs. “Help me. Help me.”

  “You’re all right, Charlie,” Duke called, glancing at him in the rearview mirror. “Relax.”

  “No relax, no help me,” he cried and tugged the straps of his car seat. “Let me out.”

  “I promise you can get out as soon as we get there.”

  “Out now,” he sobbed.

  “Let’s sing a song,” Molly tried for the fiftieth time. It didn’t go over any better than the coloring books or movies had. Charlie had simply hit his limit for how long he could stand being confined. Duke couldn’t blame him. Six hours in the car under these conditions felt like torture.

  She rolled down all the windows, causing Molly and Joe to both shout, “No.”

  “Just for a minute, guys. I can’t stand to hear him cry.”

  Molly reached for Duke’s hand. “I love that you’re a softy for him.”

  She looked in the rearview mirror one more time to see Charlie with one hand in his mouth and the other out the window. Removing the barriers was the only way she’d found to ease his claustrophobia. Of course, without the window up, the air conditioner was worthless, and the stale, hot exhaust fumes clouding the Stevenson Expressway flooded the car.

  They were late. She’d given up on the family tour of Wrigley two hours ago. Half an hour ago, she’d made peace with the fact that she wouldn’t have time to change at the hotel before going to the field. Now she did the math in her head to see how long she’d have in the clubhouse before it closed. That window was shrinking with every minute.

  She pulled out her phone and put on her Bluetooth earpiece. “Guys, I have to make an important phone call. Can you promise me to be super quiet?”

  “Yeah,” Joe said.

  “Charlie?”

  “No.”

  “No, you won’t be quiet?”

  “No talking.”

  Did that mean he wouldn’t talk or she couldn’t? It didn’t matter. She had to risk it.

  She hit the voice command button and said, “Call Beach.”

  The phone rang twice before she heard Beach’s voice in her ear.

  “What’s up, Duke?”

  “I’m going to be late filing my pre-game. I got stuck in traffic coming into Chicago.”

  “This is a big series.”

  “I know. And I’m sorry. I thought I left in plenty of time.”

  “Why didn’t you fly from Kansas City?”

  “Something came up, family stuff.”

  “You need to let me know sooner if you need time off.”

  “I didn’t think I needed time off,” she said tersely.

  “Well, it’s too late to do anything now.”

  “No talking,” Charlie yelled.

  “What was that?” Beach asked.

  “Nothing, I mean, I don’t know. I’m pulling onto ninety now. It’s moving faster.”

  “I don’t need a traffic report. I need a pre-game report. Get it to me as soon as you possibly can.”

  The wind picked up as they gained speed, up to a whopping twenty-five miles an hour. She raised her voice to be heard, but she didn’t dare roll up the window. “I will. I promise.”

  “And, Duke, this is your team’s chance to make up ground against their number one rival…”

  “Yeah.” She tried not to snap. Did he really think she didn’t understand the implications? “I’m on it. Day and night. Double the output for the rest of the weekend.”

  Out of the corner of her eye she saw Molly’s head snap over, but she could deal with only one person’s disappointment at a time.

  “You don’t have to tell me,” Beach said with a sigh. “Show me.”

  “You know I’m a pro—”

  “No talking,” Charlie shouted again.

  “Charlie,” Molly snapped, “Shh.”

  “I gotta go.” Duke pushed the disconnect button and mumbled, “That went well.”

  They rode in silence until Duke turned onto North Sheffield.

  “There’s the hotel.” She pointed to the the Inn at Wrigley Field sign. She’d paid a small fortune to get a room there on a Cardinals / Cubs game day, but now she was glad she had. It was only a block from the stadium, and she needed to get there fast. “I put your name on the reservation, so you can get checked in.”

  “Aren’t you going to get us checked in?” Molly asked.

  “I’m sorry. I don’t have time. The tickets are in my bag. Call me when you get to the game, and I’ll try to come find you.” Duke pulled up in the front of the hotel. “Boys, please be good for your mom. I’ll see you at the park.”

  “I thought you were going to show me around Wrigley,” Joe said.

  “I will, tomorrow, okay?”

  Joe frowned but nodded. She didn’t have time to try to appease him any more. Leaning over, she kissed Molly quickly on the lips. Molly didn’t really kiss her back though, something she added to the growing list of things to worry about later. Tossing the keys to the valet, she called “I’m sorry” one more time and ran down the block.

  She was sweat-soaked by the time she got up to the press booth. The dugout had already closed by the time she got there, and she’d caught only the last few batters to warm up. None of them gave her any quotes, so she’d raced upstairs to try to piece together something about the lineup and the importance of the weekend series.

  Cooper stared at her in amusement. “Getting a little out of shape, Rook?”

  She wasn’t in the mood for backhanded banter today. She dropped into her seat an
d began typing, but he didn’t get the hint.

  “What? The schedule getting to you?”

  She snorted. That was part of the problem. Late nights, weeks away from home, they’d all pushed her into thinking this family weekend was a good idea. No, it was a good idea. She needed tonight to go well, and she’d get back on track. They could still tour the ballpark tomorrow morning and Navy Pier after the game. This was an important series, both on and off the field, but she could manage everything.

  Her dad’s voice echoed through her head, asking if she could do everything one hundred percent. Sure, she could sneak some time with Molly, but enough to justify dragging her family up to Chicago for the weekend? And she could get her stories filed, but would all of them be two hours late and patched together? Was that fair to anyone? Especially herself?

  No, she needed to add those insecurities to a pile of problems she didn’t have time to deal with right now and get back to work.

  *

  Duke incessantly tapped her pencil on the green table in front of her. She had an amazing seat with an expansive view of one of the most beautiful, historic fields in all of baseball. Despite the Cubs’ lackluster record for the past one hundred years, they still boasted an envy-inspiring home field. Wrigley was a true cathedral of the game. From the sun-soaked bleachers beyond the outfield to the outer surrounding of rooftop terraces, fans had their pick of glorious views. The old-fashioned chalkboard green scoreboard was nothing short of iconic, and the ivy along the outfield wall held more history than most other major league ballparks combined. Duke fully understood why so many of the Cubbies faithful wanted their ashes scattered here. It would be a beautiful place to rest eternally. And yet, here she sat, grinding her teeth, desperate for her chance to get away.

  She should’ve been wrapping up her post-game interviews at this point. A one o’clock game could’ve reasonably ended by four, giving her an hour in the clubhouse and another hour to file her story. They could’ve headed downtown no later than six for a nice dinner and some family fun on Navy Pier. None of that could happen until the game ended, though, and the game couldn’t end until someone scored another run, which both teams had failed to do since the sixth inning, when Yadier Molina was hit by a pitch and came around to tie the game on a double from Cayden Brooks.