2nd Inning
Hitting is timing.
Pitching is upsetting timing.
—Warren Spahn
One of the fellows called me Cyclone, but finally shortened it to ‘Cy’, and it’s been that ever since.
—Cy Young
Driving home, the memory of the past six years flashed across Ryan Haddox’s mind. The long conditioning exercises, the travelling, the constant sacrifice—all inflicted damage on his personal life.
For over five years, he’d been in a relationship. He’d met Stephanie Watkins in college and the couple lived together in a rented house on the edge of town. The addition of a baby brought happiness and closeness to them, although more adversity loomed in their future.
Stephanie was beautiful. Her auburn hair reached down to the middle of her back and her eyes were a piercing blue. Her physical exquisiteness often left Ryan breathless. More amazing, her beauty existed far deeper than her skin.
She’d come from a large family—three girls and two boys. Being the youngest she’d grown up somewhat quiet. In spite of this, surprisingly, Stephanie’s personality did not overcompensate.
Many nights Ryan held Stephanie in his arms on the porch of his house in Brownsville, Oklahoma, listening to love songs. Speaking soft whispers in her ear, many times the couple held each other peacefully until the sunrise.
The previous fall, after the season concluded, on a cool, brisk day, Ryan shared his thoughts with Stephanie. The couple sat on the porch as late afternoon light surrendered to dusk and the smell of dinner swirled in the air. “I just want my shot Stephanie. If I take the mound in the big leagues just once and I’m not good enough… then I’ll… walk away. I just want my shot.”
In a frightened reflex, Stephanie gripped his arm—his pitching arm—and softly asked, “What will we do then, Ryan? You left Amecar Oklahoma College after one year. We went to a liberal arts college to get a better idea how we’d plan our future education. Neither of us finished.”
Stephanie fondly remembered her time in the Kappa Delta Sorority. Hers wasn’t the most carefree life. Raised by two hardworking parents who preferred the rural way of life, she possessed traditionalist beliefs compelling her not to seek help first. Her parents helped her with tuition but she took it upon herself to participate in funding her education.
Years of careful planning allowed Stephanie to acquire and save enough money to pay for most of her books. She even managed some extras, including off campus living arrangements.
Despite missing her family, Stephanie loved her first year of college. Then, during her sophomore year, things took a turn she hadn’t expected.
She met Ryan Haddox by accident. Invited by a friend to a baseball game, she’d accepted even though she wasn’t much of a fan.
“I don’t think so,” she replied, crinkling her nose.
Lydia, a shapely brunet possessing green eyes, giggled. “Please come with me. I’m dating the left fielder and he insists he plays better when I come to see him play.”
Sitting along the left field foul line so Lydia could get a clear view of the left fielder, the women sat directly in front of the pitchers warm up area.
Although Haddox wasn’t scheduled to pitch, he went out to the bullpen to throw lightly and get some work in between starts.
Stephanie noticed an attraction to him immediately. Her characteristically precise mind became unraveled and she found herself staring at the man whose name she didn’t even know.
She lost track of her senses.
Haddox’s body was sinewy, the bulk of his weight and power concentrated at his lower body, mainly his legs. Somewhat tall, but not lanky, Haddox’s well-proportioned physique excited her. Her reaction caught her by surprise, but it didn’t prevent her fixation on him.
After finishing his warmups, Ryan caught sight of her. Briefly, their eyes met. A small smile escaped his lips.
Why is he smiling?
His eyes mesmerized her. Their mysterious color excited her. Halfway between blue and hazel, their shade seemed to change in the light’s reflection, or the angle of his head. She came to learn their shade also depended on his mood or the setting surrounding him.
“He’s cute, huh?”
“What?” Stephanie turned and noticed Lydia looking at her keenly.
“The pitcher?” asked Lydia. “You’ve been staring at him.” She giggled. “And you’re smiling at him.”
Aghast at having her fascination found out, Stephanie quickly turned away. Angry at her carelessness, she turned and asked, “Do you think he noticed?”
Lydia released another giggle. “I think you’ve been busted, Girlfriend. Unless he’s blind.”
Discomfited, Stephanie lowered her vision. She attempted to divert her attention to the other players on the field, and the people and events taking place in the stands.
“It’s okay, you know?” Lydia said to her, after Haddox departed the mound and the game started. “If you want, I can ask Paul to introduce you guys.”
“Paul?”
“The left fielder, silly? They’re not exactly friends, but they hang out occasionally. Come on, it’ll be fun.”
A week later, the two couples double dated. Choosing an eatery that served the most delightful pan seared sea scallops and spinach-asparagus risotto, the place offered an atmospheric setting and a quiet backdrop.
Stephanie wore a crochet bust halter dress, accentuated by a pair of open toe flat shoes. She’d considered wearing a sunhat but instead had worn her hair freely across her shoulders.
Elation passed through her when she noticed Ryan taking in her fullness when he thought she wasn’t looking. Although she’d tried not to go overboard, prior to the date, Stephanie already believed her feelings were unique and genuine. While sharing one of her scallops with him, she realized Ryan Haddox was the man she’d been waiting for her entire life.
How he held his fork, to the manner he guzzled his beer, to how his confidence wasn’t conceited, even to the way his eyes twinkled when he looked at her—these things led Stephanie to fall in love.
Holding hands and warm smiles led to kisses and intimacy. The intensity of tenderness left her unbelievably blissful and content.
Within a year, they were living together.
Raised a strict Catholic, Stephanie resisted. On a sultry Oklahoma afternoon, under a light rain, she expressed her conviction. The wetness of the rain lent itself to her reflective mood.
Sitting at a gazebo overlooking a garden at the edge of town, a cold chill crept up her spine. Holding each other tightly, she carefully broke free of his arms.
“Honey, I… I just wish… you were more…”
Ryan stopped to look at her.
Deliberately, carefully, Stephanie said, “I love you, Ryan… You’re a dreamer, and I know how much baseball means to you. Honey, we need to make plans. To make our lives better.”
Haddox had been expecting this. A few weeks prior, he’d overheard one of Stephanie’s brothers warning her about him.
“He’s not ever going to be practical like you, Steph,” Owen, her older brother had told her. “He’ll always be a dreamer. You deserve better.”
“I realize why you’re telling me,” Stephanie said. “Thank you, but I’m okay. You don’t have to worry about me.”
“You’re right: I care about you, Steph. I just don’t want to see you hurt.”
Stephanie’s reply took the air out of Haddox’s lungs.
“I love him, Owen. If you care about me, then you must care how I feel about him.”
A long pause followed.
Haddox stood awkwardly at the entry of the kitchen, considering entering and confronting the situation directly. Using all of his strength, he didn’t intrude.
At last, Stephanie declared, in a voice of conviction, “I’ve found the man I want to marry, Owen. Can’t you be happy for me?”
After an abrupt silence, Owen replied, “Yeah… I can… Sis. If you’re happy, I’m happy.”
Stephanie’s conviction forced Haddox to confront his inadequacies. I should’ve tried harder, Haddox regretted. He remembered considering his education, when the Panthers Organization made their offer to him.
“Kid, you’re already a Panther,” Joe Strickland, the Panther’s head college scout had said, referring to Amecar Oklahoma College’s nickname, the Panthers. “Sign your name and it’s just a matter of geography.”
Eventually the geography did work out, when the Panthers sent him to AAA, allowing him to play nearly in his backyard.
Looking back on his decision to sign a major league contract, each day he suffered in the minors made Haddox question the soundness of his decision.
“I’m not trying to pressure you, Ryan.” Stephanie said, brushing away her long chestnut hair. “I never thought I’d live with a man. I mean… you know how old fashioned my parents are.” A smile escaped her. “My father… He adores you, Ryan. But I can tell mom and dad aren’t happy… about our living in sin.”
Haddox gently kissed her forehead. Unsure how to express his feelings, his words came out choppy and irregular. “My parents raised me the same way.” He leaned across and touched her face affectionately. Letting out a breath, he concluded, “I don’t like how we’re living either. I want us to be together, always.” Shaking his head, he said, “But I don’t always know how to get there.”
“Get where?”
The rain began to fall harder, its wetness splashing across the wood floor of the gazebo.
“Well, ever since dad died, Uncle Mitch raised me. Uncle Mitch and Aunt Dorothy wanted kids but couldn’t have their own. Anyway, it’s always been Uncle Mitch and me… and baseball.”
Haddox found it difficult to open up to anyone, even Stephanie.
To support him, Stephanie reached out and put her hand on his shoulder.
“Uncle Mitch played semi-pro ball in Tulsa. He pitched, like me. Things were beginning to work out; his career showed promise. Then, he blew out his arm. Well, it wasn’t like nowadays, where operating and repairing arms is common. In those days, arm surgery was just getting going and too expensive for a semi-pro player to afford.”
Haddox lowered his head. His shoulders slumped and his arms dropped over his legs.
Stephanie had never seen him this way. She extended her arms and embraced him.
Raising himself up, Ryan said, “I love you, Stephanie. I want us to live the rest of our lives together and raise children. But you’re right: I haven’t planned my life worth a shit. I don’t want our children to suffer because of me.”
“Darling, why would our children suffer because of you?”
“Because… I… for Uncle Mitch and… me… I have to try to make the major leagues. I can never quit. I know I can’t ask you to wait.” He shook his head. “But I can’t quit.”
A gust of wind swept through the gazebo causing a shiver to escape Stephanie.
Gently, kindly, Haddox pulled back her curls. He noticed quiet resolve in her eyes.
Who do they think they are?
“They want to do what?” asked Stephanie heatedly. Unresolved conflict seized her.
Haddox went over the whole conference, up to the explanation of the side-by-side.
“They can’t do this,” Stephanie reacted. Years of frustration shown on her face. “Promises were made, Ryan. We planned our life around their promises. Assurances.”
Haddox couldn’t respond to her emotional outburst. She wasn’t saying anything he hadn’t already said a million times over.
“Ryan, look at me.”
Haddox reluctantly turned to her.
“They’re not just doing this to you and me. Ryan, our son. We…” She stopped to release a tormented sob. “Honey, he’s innocent and caught up in this. It’s not right. His future is at stake.”
Haddox stood there in silence.
In frustration, Stephanie pleaded, “Aren’t you going to say anything? Are you going to allow them to do this… to us?”
“You don’t think I hate this? I told Sonny, Baby. I wanted to quit right there and then. But Sweetie, I couldn’t quit. I can’t let the past six years mean nothing?”
Clenching her fists, Stephanie poured out her rage in quiet desperation. “We waited, Ryan. We didn’t marry because we relied on their commitment to your development.” Shaking her fists, Stephanie swore under the heavy cloud of her indignation. “Those bastards. Who do they think they are to play with people’s lives?”
Stephanie’s energy drained out of body. Feeling weak, she slumped over the chair.
Ryan walked over and took a knee before her. “Honey,” he said, in a strong low voice. “I can win this thing. I know I can.”
Stephanie nodded. “I know you can. Honey, that’s not the point. You’ve already proven yourself to them. Will it ever be enough?”
She wanted to direct the question at Ryan, but didn’t.
Rotator cuff
Hot out of the gate, Haddox went 3-1 in his first six starts.
On the other hand, Dalton Young suffered two blemishes in his first six starts, yet managed to match Haddox’s win amount.
After two no decisions, on his ninth start Haddox positioned himself in the thick of the side-by-side.
Things were going well. Too well.
In the backend of a three game swing against the Arcadia Titans, he felt the twinge.
More like a tightening of the shoulder, the discomfort sliced deep into the muscle tissue. The surge of throbbing terrified him and, unsure how to react to it, at first he chose to ignore it. After some thought, he attributed the stab of pain to the coolness of the Arcadia air.
By the third inning, the throbbing increased.
Ryan straightaway tried to raise his spirits, to no avail. The pain in his shoulder caused him to fall into a pit of despair.
Tendinitis in the rotator cuff, maybe bursitis. It can be a lot of things before a rotator cuff tear. Ryan fought against the negative thoughts entering his mind.
To continue to disregard the pain no longer seemed wise to him.
Determining it not sensible to adjust his mechanics in mid-game, Haddox considered only two options: throw through the pain, or stop pitching.
Standing behind the mound rubbing up the ball prior to his first pitch of the 4th inning, Haddox glanced at Ramsey in the dugout. The manager seemed to pay extra attention to him.
Haddox quickly looked away. A frown developed and his jaw tensed across its line.
Hell, it ain’t like I had a blazing fastball before. I can’t stop pitching. Hounsfield’ll give up on me and sign Young in September.
I have to grit my teeth.
Ryan resigned himself to the appalling assessment.
Then, a heavier thought came to his mind. He stood frozen on the mound, lost in contemplation.
If I keep pitching, I’ll wreck my arm beyond repair.
If I knowingly tear the rotator cuff, I’ll be finished.
Back and forth his thoughts warred, leaving him in turmoil.
I must continue to pitch. I’ve got this one shot. My wife and son are counting on me. I can’t let them down.
In a blink of an eye, Ryan Haddox made a decision he knew he couldn’t go back on.
To the possible destruction of his arm, he continued to pitch.
In the fifth inning, the Panthers took a 4-2 lead. If he hung on and got the win, he’d pass Young on record and ERA.
Using every skill he possessed, Haddox persevered through his arm throbbing, reaching the bottom of the sixth on sheer power of will. With two outs and a runner on second base, Ramsey came out to talk to him.
He didn’t want to come out, yet, his arm was killing him.
“How ya feelin’?” interrogated the manager, his attention on the manner in which Haddox gingerly held his arm.
Haddox gave the appropriate delay before answering, emphatically, “I’m fine, Skip.”
“Let me tell you why I’m asking. Your speed’s dropped five miles in three
innings. I’ll be frank: you can’t afford to lose a mile. If you’ve got a problem, I expect you to let me know.”
The home crowd became restless. “Write him a letter!” yelled one fan from the stands directly behind the plate. “Take the bum out!” shouted another.
Out of the corner of his eye, Haddox noticed the umpire making his way to the mound to break up their discussion.
“I hate to break up your get together, Gentlemen,” announced Bill Halley, the home plate umpire, “but we’re in the middle of a game right now.”
“I’m okay, Sonny,” pleaded Haddox. “I’ll finish this inning in a few minutes. Okay?”
After a long stare, the manager returned to the dugout.
The count even at 2-2, Haddox rocked and fired an out pitch he was certain Clint Vance would not expect—a fastball.
Vance lurched in his stride, caught himself, rebalanced, and had the strength to extend his swing. By doing so, the end of his bat connected with the ball on its downward trajectory.
The loud crack told Haddox everything.
High and far the ball lifted.
Haddox didn’t bother to look back.
The home run not only tied the game, it zapped much of his remaining energy.
Haddox angrily kicked at the dirt of the mound, his head slumping in dejection. I didn’t have enough juice. If my arm was healthy, I’d’ve gotten it to the glove, he lamented.
Borelli tossed Haddox a fresh baseball. Off handedly, the catcher shot a quick glance at the dugout. Not seeing any reaction from Ramsey, he shrugged his shoulders and squatted behind the plate.
A single put a runner on base and brought up the Titans right fielder, who up until then had gone hitless on three at bats.
On the second pitch—a slider that hung over the inside part of the plate—the batter drove a double into the gap. As the Titan base runner crossed the plate, Ramsey strode to the mound to take him out of the game.
Not wanting to become over concerned about his shoulder ailment, Haddox went over the game in his mind while he soaked his arm in ice water. An hour and a half later, he came out of the showers to see the team trudging into the cramped locker-room.
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