by Darin Gibby
“I think we should see if I can do it again.”
A minute later she was in her shorts with a Rockies cap over her pulled-back hair. Her ponytail poked through the back hole.
They drove to Red-Tailed Hawk Park with their entourage close behind. With the elementary schools back in session, the playground was deserted. As soon as she closed the car door, Alicia turned and waved. “A seesaw. I haven’t been on one of these in years. Come on.” She began jogging then stopped and waited for him. He was moving gingerly as if he were walking on broken glass.
Alicia bounded to the far side of the seesaw and hopped on the seat. Instantly, it bottomed out on the pebble gravel. Gil reached up and pulled her down.
“Still as light as a feather. When are you going to put some meat on those bones.”
“You always know how to make a girl feel good, don’t you?”
Gil shimmied his way onto his seat and sunk his weight into the beam, causing his daughter to shoot up into the sky.
“Wow, kind of puts butterflies in my stomach.”
“Ever hear anything from Conklin?” He extended his legs and soon he felt the same sinking feeling in his stomach as he flew to the top.
“Not much. After I broke things off, I got a few texts, usually after you won a game. Nothing recently.”
“After this season, you’re going to need to get back to school and meet some more people.”
“It’s going to be hard. People will think differently of me now that you’re famous.”
Gil stopped at the bottom, keeping Alicia in the air. “Really?”
“Of course. My life will never be the same. Hey, it’s kind of fun being up here.” Gil could see her gleaming white teeth as she twirled her head around. She held out her arms as if she were a bird. “It’s almost like flying.”
Gil was squatting. Her weight wasn’t enough to lift him up. “Well, it’s not too fun being down here. Want to stay up there all day?”
“That’s okay. Hey, did I tell you about Peck liking girl things? It’s really weird. He comes off like this tough guy, but underneath he’s got this feminine side. The women at the games adore him. He fits right in.”
They chatted until Gil finally realized they were both standing, the teeter-totter balanced between them.
“Okay, so let’s get serious,” Gil said. “Father-daughter stuff. How is your life, really?”
She twisted up her mouth and shrugged her bare shoulders, still deeply tanned. After pausing for a minute, she said. “Kind of like this seesaw. In neutral, just not doing much. But that’s okay, I needed some time off, remember?”
“The summer’s been good for you.”
“It has, but you’re right. I’m getting ready to move on. Remember our discussion about how when I got to the top of the mountain, that I’d know? And that’s when I could jump and fly?”
Gil tried to remember, but it seemed like another lifetime. He nodded.
“Well, I think I’m to the point where I’m ready to start hiking again. It’s no fun being stuck in the middle.”
“Well, I think you’re right. Now you understand why I need to pitch.”
She scrunched her nose. “Maybe, but you know what you want to do. For me, I’m not sure. I loved school, but I’m not sure it’s right for me.”
“Then why don’t you do something crazy, like join the Peace Corps and go to Africa? Or maybe study abroad in Italy. We should have the money. Put yourself on a good journey.”
“I’ll think about it.”
When they finally left the playground, Alicia walked over to her father and took his hands in hers. She looked up into his eyes. Her lip was trembling.
“Dad, I know.”
“Know what?”
“The real truth about what’s happening to you.”
Gil looked down at her tearing eyes. “Really? You’re probably the only one on the planet. Tell me what you’ve divined.”
“This isn’t the time to kid around with me.” She burst into tears and threw her arms around him. He felt her body convulsing beneath his powerful arms.
“You’re acting like I’m going to die tomorrow. Now come on, let’s sit down and talk this thing out.”
He grabbed her hand and led her to the swings. “So tell me what you’re worried about.” A hawk flew above them, and Gil craned his neck to watch.
She reached up and turned his face back. “I need all of you here right now.”
“Okay, I’m sorry. What’s eating you up?”
“I know what you have is really serious, and they’ve been saying that someday you’re going to die, but Mom told me about your last visit. I know what Dr. Kusha said.”
“He’s a good doctor, isn’t he?”
“Oh, please stop. I’m your daughter, and I’m not a little girl anymore.”
He reached and stroked her cheek. “And a very pretty one at that. Have I ever told you what a beautiful woman you’ve grown up to be? You remind me so much of your mother when she was your age.”
“Dad, I know your tricks. We all know them. You love to talk, but never about what’s really important. But you can’t avoid this one. I know the truth. Your pitching is killing you. You’re going to die.”
“Yes, but we’re all going to die.”
“Stop it! That’s not what I’m talking about. It’s the pitching that’s doing this to you. This could be your last game. Every pitch you take is bringing you closer to death. You can’t pitch anymore. You could die on the mound. The more you exert yourself, the faster you escalate your condition. You can’t pitch anymore.”
“Alicia, that’s not what Dr. Kusha said. And besides, we all get closer to death with every breath we take. Do you want me to sit in a wheelchair the rest of my life? If I did what you’re suggesting, you guys would need to feed me because lifting my fork is going to make me die. That’s not life. That’s not living. Being on that mound, living my dreams—that’s life, that’s why I’m here. I’m sorry Alicia. I gave up my dream once before, and … ”
Shaking, she buried her face into his rock-hard pectoral muscles. “I know about that too,” she sobbed. “You got mom pregnant in college and quit playing so you could support us. I know. Mom told me.” She paused, then looked into his eyes.
“But that wasn’t a mistake. I wanted to be with your mother always, and I did the one thing I knew that would keep us together. And you’re the result of that decision.”
Alicia nodded her head and sniffed. “I know. Mom told me that too. That’s why we can’t live without you. I can’t see you die on that mound. I’d never get over it.”
He lifted her cap and smoothed her hair. “You and Austin are the best things that ever happened to me. I wouldn’t change anything that’s happened to us in the last twenty years.”
She wiped her nose. “So why do you have to keep pitching? Let’s just keep on with how things are.”
“This is something I have to do. I can’t explain it other than to say I feel it in my bones. I need to be out there pitching. I can’t let everyone down. Think about Austin. He can’t wait to see me out on that mound. That’s his dream, to see his father win the Series. What’s so wrong with that?”
“Because that’s the last he’ll ever see of you, that’s what.”
He wiped her cheek. “Alicia, I feel fine. I’m going to finish off the season, then we’ll all sit down and decide about next year. Tell you what. We’ll take a vote. If you all want me to give up baseball, then that’s what I’ll do. Fair enough?”
“What if this is it? What if I never see you again?”
“That won’t happen. I promise I will not die on the mound. I’m feeling fine. Dr. Kusha gave me some good suggestions, which I am going to follow. I have at least one more season in me. That is, if you let me come back another year.”
She sniffed and focused her gaze on his eyes. “You promised,” she whispered in his ear. “You promised that this won’t be the last time.”
“I did.
Now we should probably get going.”
46
WHEN GIL TOOK the mound in St. Louis, he felt better than he had since the All-Star break. “I feel really good,” he told his family when he awoke in their hotel room. It was the first time he’d traveled with all of them. For every other road game, he had a room to himself. At first, he wasn’t sure if it was a good idea to break routine, but the thought of waking up next to Keri was too irresistible; and to see Austin’s face, eyes wide with excitement, as he went over the Cards’ lineup, couldn’t be missed.
Ratcliff pulled Gil after eight innings. The outfielders’ bats remained red hot, and Ratcliff figured Tajima could hold on to a three nothing lead. Tajima gave up a run, but that was good enough. The Rockies had stolen the first game on the road.
Gil had started to feel fatigued after the fourth inning, but thought nothing of it. As he watched Tajima finishing off the game, the same tightness he’d felt during the pennant race came roaring back. His chest felt like it was compressing in on itself. Hunched over, Gil snuck into the locker room. Connor already had his ice bath ready. He slipped on a pair of shorts and plunged into the icy waters.
The shock of biting cold made him gasp, but he slid down like it was a steam bath on a frigid day. The numbing cold relieved the pain. Connor pulled him out after four minutes.
“No press conference for you. Keri’s outside waiting. We’re getting you to your room.”
“I thought they were expecting me. If I don’t make an appearance, they’ll start to talk.”
“I thought you were past that,” Connor said.
“I guess you’re right. Bed for me.”
In the hotel room, Gil kept up his hunched walk.
“You look like Grandpa before he died,” Austin said when he saw his father.
“Funny,” Gil said. “Just a little twitch in my back. I’ll be okay in the morning.”
Melendez started the next day. He gave up a respectable three runs, but Juarez struck out twice, and the rest of the outfielders followed suit. The Rockies lost three to one and headed back to Colorado.
At home, Dr. Kusha completed his phone examination. His diagnosis remained unchanged. Rest was best. Gil needed to listen to his own body. His research team was still feverishly working on trying to unlock the mystery behind his illness.
***
Feeling better, Gil was ready to go on two day’s rest. In front of a cheering home crowd, he retired the first six batters he faced with a total of eighteen pitches. But in the third inning, the stiffness returned. No runs scored, but he used up twenty pitches. He asked the trainer to rub his shoulder while he sat on the bench.
By the fifth inning, his chest was so tight that he struggled for breath after each pitch. The irony was that the harder it became to breathe, the faster he pitched. He finished another scoreless inning, sucking in air as he exited the field.
Ratcliff sat next to him. “You sound like you have asthma. I’m going to pull you, Gil. We’ve got a four-run lead, and I need to save you for game five if I need you.” He slapped Gil’s leg. “You okay with that?”
Gil nodded. “At least Keri will be happy.”
The reliever gave up a run in the seventh and two more in the eighth. Tajima pitched well, but gave up a homer. With the score tied, Ratcliff was facing extra innings. That all changed when Juarez homered in the ninth. Game wise, the Rockies were up two to one.
After the game, Keri asked Peck to stay with Gil. When Gil walked out of the locker room hunched over, Peck insisted on driving him home. Keri had his ice bath ready, pouring a week’s worth of stored ice cubes into their bathtub.
“Whew!” Gil said when he plunged in.
“How do you do that?” Keri said, watching goose bumps explode over Gil’s skin.
“Take the plunge? Kind of like our getting married. You just jump into it, and there you are.”
“Just like that?”
“Uh huh. Don’t believe me? Why don’t you try it?”
She didn’t hesitate. Still in her jeans and Rockies jersey, she plopped herself into the tub beside him. “Didn’t think I’d do it, did you?”
He looped his head sideways and kissed her. “I’m glad we took the plunge twenty years ago. We’ve been good for each other.”
The tension in Gil’s upper body made it impossible to sleep. Keri spent an hour massaging Gil’s chest and shoulders until Gil was softly sleeping. His shoulders and chest by now were massive. He looked more like a professional bodybuilder than baseball player. His neck was about as thick as his head, and his thighs stretched his pants legs like leotards.
***
Alicia found her mother kneeling next to Gil, kneading his shoulders with her fists. Alicia was in her pajamas, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes.
“You look tired, Mom,” she said.
“I’m okay, just trying to loosen up this fighter.”
“Dad, you’re making me nervous. I can’t wait until the season’s over.”
“Dad’s going to take the Rockies to the NLCS.” It was Austin. He charged in and hopped on the bed. “The Cubs are up three zip in their series. Dad, if you can get the Rockies one more win, we’re off to Chicago. Here, can I help?”
Austin crawled to the other side of the bed and began working on Gil’s other shoulder.
“I think I’m good,” Gil said. “Why don’t we get breakfast—out of bed.”
***
Melendez pitched game four in front of a screaming home crowd. But he was pitching on two day’s rest, just like Gil. He threw tired and the Cards clobbered him. The team would be travelling back to Missouri for the final game, and Ratcliff knew he had a problem.
The changes in Gil were now obvious to just about everyone. His body was swollen with muscle and his breathing labored. Ratcliff felt torn. On one hand he needed Gil to help the team win and he didn’t need to worry about ruining him for next year, because there would be no next year in the majors once the strike settled. On the other hand, Ratcliff liked Gil and deeply respected his grit. The man never complained, never asked to be taken out, even when his breathing was labored and muscles stiff with pain.
Gil can’t go nine innings. I’ll pull him after five or six or use him as a reliever, Ratcliff reasoned. That’ll give him recovery time.
Ratcliff’s concerns were moot. By the sixth inning, the Rockies had a ten-run lead. Ratcliff pulled Gil, and the Rockies coasted to victory and their first trip to the National League Championship.
***
Ratcliff faced a major problem. The NLCS had a format that didn’t lend itself to letting any starting pitcher get in three games. The Rockies would play their first two games in Chicago, then return for three games at home. If needed, they would return to Chicago for the last two games. The format meant that, with a travel day between games two and three, he could have Gil and Melendez pitch the first four games with two day’s rest. But game five presented a problem. Neither pitcher would have enough rest to start. His bullpen wasn’t deep enough to start one of his relievers. He’d be forced to start the rookie, Sewell, who he’d recently called up from the minors after DeJesus threw out his arm, and he knew they’d lose.
As much as the Rockies tried to hide Gil’s condition, the press still got wind of how he’d been hurting. He was filmed hobbling into his truck when Peck drove him home. His back was arched and he was clutching his chest as he gasped for air.
Ratcliff, Connor, and the Rockies’ front office knew they had a potential disaster on their hands. They needed Gil to win the pennant and Series, but what if he was permanently harmed—or worse, what if he died? The Rockies’ manager and coaches would be crucified in the media, and probably by the fans.
“We’ve got one choice,’’ Ratcliff said. “We leave the decision to play up to Gil—and we make sure everyone knows it.’’
Keri kept silent, leaving the decision to Gil. He knew how she felt. “Don’t risk your life. We need you,” she had told him.
***
Game one against the Cubs had the air of a fight rather than a game. Slider, still struggling with his emotional imbalance, knew he couldn’t face being on the same field where he’d had his breakdown. He chose not to travel to Chicago.
Manzi, scandalized in the press for his supposed indiscretion the year before with the Cubs, had to relive his nightmare one more time. He played like a man possessed. He made it on base three straight times, scoring twice, the only two runs put up by the Rockies.
Gil stayed on the mound until the sixth inning. His muscles began to seize up like an engine with no oil. He could feel his control going and walked the first batter. Then his arm froze during the release of a curveball. It hung like a feather floating in the air. The batter, looking for an off-speed pitch, guessed right and slammed it over the left field fence. Gil looked to the dugout, and Tajima started throwing in the bullpen.
“That’s never happened,” he told Connor when he got to the dugout. “I mean, yeah I’ve been sore, but just shutting down, that’s never happened. My arm just wouldn’t work.”
Tajima got them out of the sixth with a two-to-two tie, but in the ninth gave up a homer to drop the first game. The odds makers were silenced when Melendez took the mound in game two and threw a shutout. It was his best game of the year, and he went all nine innings. A depressing silence fell over the Cubs stadium when he struck out the last batter. The Rockies had broken even and now were heading home to Denver for three more games.
Ratcliff lingered in the dugout, watching as the sullen Cubs fans emptied out of the stadium.
“You thinking the same thing I am?” Connor said.
“Probably. We should be worried about how we can get Melendez to pitch three games, not Gil.”
“He’s still pretty banged up after yesterday’s outing. He says he feels fine, but watch him when he’s sitting on the bench.”
“Yeah, I’ve noticed. He breathes like he’s having an asthma attack.”
When the Rockies returned to Denver and Gil claimed to be rested, Ratcliff came up with a new plan. If Gil could pitch the first home game, Melendez could pitch game four. He’d give up on game five, letting both Gil and Melendez take a much-needed rest. If the series went back to Chicago, he’d start Gil, and if it went to a game seven, Melendez would be called on for a repeat.