By the time batting practice is over, she’s still not here, which is late for her. We head back into the clubhouse to change and meet with Diamond and the other coaches to go over the game. It’s hard to predict how a game is going to go. If pitching is tight, but batting isn’t, the game could be a battle. End up with a shitty night of pitching and swift bats – we could be putting up matching runs. Ideally, you want your strong pitcher to out duel theirs and let the bats do all the talking. The guy we’re facing tonight gave me my first grand slam last year. I thanked him by having him sign a game ball since the one I hit over the wall was taken by a fan. It probably wasn’t very nice of me, but I needed the memento.
We come back out to do some more game prep and to start the pomp and circumstance that goes into every game. As I step out, the music is a bit louder and the fans are filling their seats. Looking around I see people stuffing their faces with hotdogs, nachos and popcorn, with beer being the chaser. It’s been so long since I’ve been a spectator at a game. I miss those days.
My eyes finally land on Daisy’s seat and, much to my surprise, it’s empty. I try not to let this bother me but it does. Meyers slaps me on the back as he passes, reminding me that standing here looking like an idiot isn’t doing anyone any good.
I take my spot on the track and take off my hat. Everyone is instructed to rise for the playing of our National Anthem. I keep my eyes focused on the flag while I sing the words in my head. The moment the singer has finished, fireworks go off, signaling the start of the game. I turn away from where Daisy usually sits, unwilling to see her seat still empty, and head to the dugout to grab my glove.
We tell each other good luck and then we all pat Hawk Sinclair on the ass as we go by him. He’s in the zone and doesn’t pay us any attention. Once he gets the first batter under his belt, he’ll loosen up.
The moment my cleats touch the warning track, I’m looking left. My feet halt in their tracks and my heart stops. Sitting in the seat next to Daisy is her grandfather, and it’s my grand gesture, as Sarah calls it that put him there. After my calls and texts to her went unanswered, I had to come up with something to let her know that she’s important to me; so I made arrangements to have the Renegades staff do what they could to bring her grandfather to the game, and it looks like they’ve succeeded.
I should walk over to her and say hi, but I don’t. I need to let everything settle and see if she comes to me. I’ve extended the olive branch - hell it’s a fucking tree - and if she wants to be with me, the ball is in her court now.
After a tough week and a half on the road, the BoRe’s started a five game home stand with a win over the Texas Rangers, besting them by one run.
Tonight’s game was a nail biter; down to the ninth inning when with two outs, short stop, Easton Bennett, hit a solo shot deep into center, putting it out of reach of Delino DeShields.
The bats were decent for the Rangers, who were leading the game from the first inning. However, solid batting from Branch Singleton and Ethan Davenport kept the BoRe’s on the cusp most of the night.
Welcome home, Boys! Boston missed you.
GOSSIP WIRE:
Congratulations to Easton Bennett. Not only did he have the game winner, but his on-and-off again girlfriend gave birth today to a son. No word from the Bennett camp on who the father is and considering Easton was busy playing… well you can fill in the blanks.
The BoRe Blogger
The hot water warms my sore shoulder muscles, allowing me to rotate my arm with ease and prevent injury. There was a slight chill in the air that I didn’t prepare for during tonight’s game and I’m afraid I may end up paying for it tomorrow when I wake up.