by Caryl McAdoo
“Knock, knock. Female coming through.” Sammi Dan waltzed in and started passing out presents. Each bright bow sat atop a ten karat gold money clip inscribed with the date of his first Major League no-hitter, and a fancy ‘Thanks, G. H. W. J.’
With every one she gave, she repeated the same thing.
“Gij and I wanted you to have this to commemorate yesterday.”
Ooos and ahs aplenty sounded.
Passing out the last one and before getting to the special two surprises under the gold tissue paper, she added, “But I want y’all to know I’m the one who told him to put the cash in.” She smiled, looking around the room. “Because he doesn’t believe in luck, good or bad.”
“Wow, thanks, Sam.”
“Way too cool, Sammi Dan. Tell Gij thanks.”
“Yeah, appreciate it, big time.”
She purposely saved Carlos’ and Leonus’ for last. She pulled theirs from under the tissue and handed each a box along with their money clips. The centerfielder got his opened first. He pulled out the Rolex and read the inscription then looked her in the eye for a long minute. She’d swear tears filled his eyes.
He turned his attention to the timepiece. “Miss Samantha, I don’ know how you say.” He looked again into her eyes. “Gracias, muchas gracias. Tank you and G. H. very mush.”
She loved his accent and broken English. Carlos accepted his less ceremoniously, but did go on and on about what a great looking fancy watch he owned now.
It disappointed her a bit that none of the guys noticed her engaged-to-be-engaged-ment ring. April had though, first thing.
Even if Gij hadn’t actually asked her outright to marry him, she had no doubt what her answer would be when he did.
If he ever did after he knew the truth.
CHAPTER
sEVENteen
Seven road wins in a row, the last one in San Fran, and the first across the bay, but the Rangers couldn’t put the knockout punch on Oakland in the second game.
Mercy, Gij wanted the ball, but the debate raged according to Samantha Danielle and several others he’d heard from. Seemed the front office had whined about Jeff and Maddox hurting his arm pitching him on two short rests in a row.
He showed early and found his manager on the field hitting fungos then watched until he caught the man’s eye. Banister shot one last grounder to the September call-up then strolled over. “Hey, kid, how you feeling?”
Gij waited until he got close. “Great, and I want the ball.”
“You sure?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Everyone says not to throw you. Let you get the extra rest. Save your arm.”
“But we can’t run these guys to ground throwing the pen at ’em.”
Jeff nodded. “You’d be on a short leash.”
“Just give me the ball.”
Later that evening, Sammi Dan’s intended one flung his last warm-up toss. She didn’t know what to think. While she would love him tying the record of two straight no-hitters, she also wanted her three mid-game interviews to be with him.
She didn’t know how to pray or even that anyone up there listened. Why would God pay her any never mind if He were?
Sure seemed like all the old timers she’d been reading about were definitely convinced of His reality. But how could they possibly know? Okay, maybe Adam and Eve, if they even existed.
They supposedly walked with Him every evening, but all it left Sammi Dan with was the impression of little more than fairy tales, myths. What if someone started believing the Grimm brothers?
So many different versions of the Bible spouted that many theories of God’s Holy Word and how everything started. Who could swallow any of them?
Lord, if you’re up there, help me understand. And if…
The first batter stepped into the box. Coco Crisp. She sat up straighter and watched Gij like a hawk. She wished she could get inside his head, know what he thought at that precise minute. She glanced over at April. “What’s his real name?”
Her producer gave her a duh look. “You think I’m in that pretty little noggin of yours? Who?”
“Their lead off man. Coco can’t be his real name.”
“I don’t know. Want me to look it up?”
Crisp watched the third pitch paint the black then Blue punched him out in rather dramatic fashion. She liked that, the more flair the better, especially when Gij pitched. Okay, there’s one away, twenty-six outs to go.
For seventeen more batters, her Gij was perfect, six innings of nothing but punchouts. She sure enjoyed that Blue’s dramatic flare. He was a real kick, and she liked it all the more when her Gij smoked ’em.
She glanced at April. “Hey, do you think they send the umps to school; teach them how to do that third strike arm thing?”
“I don’t know. Want me to look it up?”
“Sure, right after Coco’s real name.”
“Are you serious?”
Once again, the bunch of scaredy-cat, superstitious, crybabies wouldn’t let her interview her favorite Ranger. How could she possibly jinx him when he didn’t believe in luck?
And to make things worse, the Rangers kept leaving men on base in droves. What was the deal? They pounded the horsehide for everyone else but her guy.
Gij trotted out to the mound for the bottom of the seventh. She listened to the Fox feed. She really liked the way Busby called a game, but only had eyes for Gij.
“Oakland’s back to the top of their order, Crisp steps up to the plate. Johnson flings a high hard one that the centerfielder lays off. How could the batter let that one go by? Why, at one-o-four, all he could see was a blur.”
Three more throws that the ump called balls came in, but if they were, it had to be by only fractions of an inch. And that’s exactly what the pitch track confirmed, showing the precise path over home plate on the centerfield giant screen.
How could Blue see that?
Those men were downright talented.
Still, she wanted to slap the guy. They weren’t anything until the ump called them, so he could have just as easily called three strikes. They were that close, but no. He puts Coco on base, the A’s only real speedster.
Sammi Dan cupped her hands over her mouth and leaned over the camera well’s railing. “Come on, Gij! This guy can’t hit his way out of a paper sack.”
A hand grabbed her arm. “Sam.”
She turned pulling away. April glared at her. “What?”
“We’re working, remember?”
She looked back just in time to see Crisp take off for second. Carlos came up throwing, and the ball got there a split second after Coco’s hand touched the bag. Okra! The bad guys had a man in scoring position.
Second pitch, the A’s shortstop cracked one right over Gig’s glove into dead center. Martin caught it on the first bounce and fired it on the rope to home. Coco Crisp rounded third heading for the plate.
The ball popped the catcher’s mitt just as Crisp slid in, then Carlos swipe tagged him.
Blue pointed to the catcher who showed him the ball, and the ump punched Coco out.
Sammi Dan, remembering to finally breathe, gasped.
Crisp jumped up and pointed at the plate. “I beat the tag! I beat it!”
The umpire took his mask off. “No! You never touched it.”
Running from the A’s dugout, the manager practically flew then squeezed into a position between his centerfielder and Blue. The giant screen went to a replay in slow motion. The catcher hollered and pointed.
Everyone froze, staring at the jumbo-tron over centerfield.
Second by second movement froze clearly showing home plate blocked by the catcher’s foot. The runner never touched home.
A collective moan sounded from the crowd.
Okay, but they had a runner on second, and a power hitter up. “Come on, Gij! You da man!”
April pressed into her. “We’ve got one mid-game left. Who do you want?”
She glanced at her producer.
“Who cares? The runner went to second on the throw.”
Gij flung a hard one inside.
The A’s third baseman leaned back and swung as though swatting a bee or something. The ball dribbled to his counterpart. Beltre charged, scooped it up barehanded, and threw him out by two steps.
“Great play! Way to go, Beltre! Way to go, Babe!” Oooops, she didn’t mean as in The Babe, just boyfriend babe. She’d probably hear about it though. Couldn’t bring her down, she was flying too high!
Sammi Dan loved it, but the enemy now rested on third. Not good. She leaned over the rail. “Come on, Gij! One out to go! Give him the dark one.”
The A’s best younger hitter stepped in. Sammi Dan’s heart raced. Oh, Lord, if You’re up there somewhere, help your man get this guy out.
High heat, strike one.
“Yes! That’s the way, Gij. Do it again! I need two more.”
April grabbed her arm. “Sam, people are watching.”
She shook her off. “I don’t care.”
The next pitch flew in even hotter. The big screen flashed one-0-five. Strike two.
“Whoop! Whoop! Whoop!” She made big circles in the air with her whole arm. “One more. Come on now. Give me one more, Gij!”
Hotter yet at one-0-six, the ball snapped into the mitt. A swing and a miss! Strike three!
Blue turned sideways and punched the dude out with every bit of dramatic flair as Broadway had ever seen, she was sure! His best yet. Sammi Dan whooped and hollered and jumped up and down.
Gij strolled to the dugout. She smiled at him as he neared, and he smiled back. How could she love the man any more? Or be more proud of him?
She wanted to jump the rail and smother him with kisses, but he had six outs to go and so many rules! She smiled at her silent funny and faced April. “So what people were watching?”
“Like everyone around us.”
“Okay, but what else would they expect? Wasn’t that absolutely, crazy exciting?”
Her producer shook her head and sighed. “I, for one, expect a little semblance of decorum, maybe with a bit of professionalism?”
“You need a chunk of chocolate, girlfriend.”
Two Rangers up, two down. Clabbered milk! They needed to get something going. Forget what that Reulback guy did in 1908. No way would Jeff let Gij go more than nine, would he?
Moreland watched four that weren’t anywhere close and took the walk. Okay, man on first. A leftie jogged up to the box, but once he was announced, the A’s skipper called time. Of course he’d wait until the batter was official.
He threw his left arm into the air calling for his southpaw from the bullpen and got the ball from the righty who stood on the mound, obviously trying not to look so dejected waiting for his replacement.
Why’d they do that? It was mean to make the old pitcher stand there the whole time the new guy trotted in. Was it a rule or something? April needed to look that up.
Banister pulled the leftie back and sent up—Sammi Dan strained, but didn’t recognize the batter. The manager also replaced Moreland with a little skinny guy they’d just called up.
Must be fast.
She put her earpiece back in and listened to the Fox feed. Instead of Busby, Tom Grieve went on about the guy’s time in the minors.
Come on Tom, who is the fellow?
Then the ex-GM-turned-broadcaster continued his conversation with his cohort in her ear. “Right Buzz, Cord has some pop in his bat, great time for him to drive one. A shot to the gap, and with speed burner on base, he could score from first on about anything in the alleys.”
Cord. She remembered the name if not the batter. Sammi Dan nodded, like the man up in the booth could see her. She loved the game with its moves and counter moves, like chess in motion on the green diamond. Shame they didn’t let her manage. She’d be so good at it.
Maybe that’s what she should do; tell Gij she wanted him to buy her a baseball team.
She smiled at herself again for thinking such a thing. She’d never want to mess with the minors though. Did he have enough money to buy the Rangers? Wouldn’t that be fun?
Third pitch, Cord waited on a hanging curve then put it in the cheap seats.
April jumped up and down, screaming her lungs out. “Way! To! Go! Woooooo Hoooo!”
Sammi Dan looked to her friend whose eyes seemed fixed on the September call-up as he trotted the bases. Mental note; ask Miss People-Are-Watching exactly who this John Cord guy was, and what happened to her sound man friend?
Gij sailed through the last six outs without anything even resembling a hit, but then Oakland only led the West because of smoking mirrors and Punch-and-Judy hitters.
Well, they had a couple of sticks, the rest couldn’t hit their way out of a cold shower.
Her Rangers headed home only two games out, and Oakland had to come to Globe Life Park in Arlington for one last three-game set.
The flight home started rambunctious then settled into a nice slumber party. No shaving cream on the first one asleep or anything stupid. Gij loved the team, loved the game, but most of all he loved Samantha Danielle.
The way she went nuts during the seventh inning almost broke his concentration, but he’d managed to tune her out when it mattered.
Somewhere over Nevada or either New Mexico, he dozed a bit. She’d been out for a while, sleeping on his left shoulder. Guess when a pitcher had thirty-eight scoreless innings and a no-hitter in the bag, his own personal interview girl could sit anywhere he wanted her to. He liked that.
Gij did beat the sun home, but not by much. Praise the Lord; he had a real day off. He set her bags down in her room then headed toward his.
“Hey.”
He turned around to a sleepy-faced Samantha Danielle. “Hey what?”
“We’re home.”
“Yes, we are. Feels good, doesn’t it?”
“No, you don’t understand. We’re home as in spill your guts.” She yawned and scratched the back of her head.
“Goodness.” He smiled; she’d trapped him with his own words. “You got a nice nap. I’d like one, can’t we do this later?”
“But you promised, and we’re home.”
He filled his lungs then exhaled slowly. He’d so much rather wait, but he had promised. He yawned. “Okay, come on.”
CHAPTER
Eighteen
Sammi Dan hurried to catch up with him, then bumped his shoulder with hers. “Where are we going?”
He stopped at his door and turned. “My room.”
“You’re letting me come into your room? Unchaperoned? What happened to rule number three?”
He snickered. “Well, that one wasn’t really my rule anyway. Pappaw put that one on me when I was but a teen, a freshman at Nimitz. Since I’m a grown man now, and Pappaw’s gone, guess I can break it if I want.”
“So what happened?” Oh slushie. Why had she gone and opened that topic of trouble? When would she ever learn? Maybe he’d let it pass since he was so tired.
“This neighborhood girl, her name was Roxanne, but I always called her Roxi—well, she and I’d been best buds forever. Her daddy used to help with the dairy back before… And he and Pappaw fished the gravel pits together.” He leaned against the hall wall.
Why didn’t he just open the door and go on in? He could talk and walk at the same time.
“One day after school, we were supposed to be studying, but she picked a fight like she usually did whenever we got together. It turned to tickling then wrestling and the next thing I knew, I’m down to my bare chest, and she’s stripped to her skivvies…” He shrugged. “That’s when Pappaw and her daddy walked in, so after the whipping, he imposed rule number three.”
So Miss Hussy Roxi only got to her underwear. That was certainly good to know, but now, she only hoped above hope that he wouldn’t expect reciprocal information. If he said anything, she’d suddenly get in serious need of her bed to buy some time. Maybe if he slept on it, he’d forget.
He p
ut his hand on the knob. She relaxed a bit. Okay, everything’s good. He was opening his inner sanctum to her without one question about her past. He turned the knob, opened the door, and nodded for her to go in ahead of him. The room was smaller than hers, but had a killer view.
But the same second those facts went through her mind, she gasped. Pictures of her, big and small ones—all of her were everywhere! She stepped inside and slowly turned in a full circle. She was on every wall, and on the night table and on his dresser. A rock formed in her gut. This was sick. Was he some kind of pervert?
“When?” She faced him. “Where’d you get all these?”
“Internet, Facebook mostly. “ He pointed at one frame. “The station sent me that one. I just called and asked for it. You were getting to be a pretty big deal even before Mexico City.”
“So, you’ve been stalking me?” She didn’t know whether to be flattered or mad, but this definitely was not normal. Should she run screaming out the door? What had she gotten herself into?
“No, of course not. I’m still me, you know that.”
“But… But…”
He walked toward her and lifted her hand. “It all started a little over a year ago, and I promise I’ll tell you the whole story after we get a nap. Okay?”
“No way, Jose. There is no way I’m going to bed for one minute without some kind of explanation, so get to talking.”
He smiled and nodded toward the double set of overstuffed chairs that guarded the windows. “Take a seat then.” He yawned.
She sat down and folded her arms over her chest, staring hard at him. What would April say about all this? Sammi Dan did know him, like he said, and he wasn’t a serial killer or anything. He was still Gij. Surely she wasn’t in any kind of danger. But it gave her the heebie jeebies to know he had collected so many pictures of her. No wonder his room was off limits.
He took the seat across from her. “I had just got knocked out of the WSP. Come to find out, Pappaw was watching the game live feed when he had the heart attack, but he made it to the phone and called 911. Then on the way to the hospital, he stroked out. By the time I got to him, he was in a coma.”