National Stadium, Le Choix
Starting the bottom of the 9th inning of the last game of the series – Hapilopper v. Le Choix
“Get me Reid.”
Dale Moss hung up the dugout telephone and sat back down. He had just called the bullpen asking for Travis Reid, Hapilopper’s set-up man. There was a method to his madness. The Hap Thrashers had just tied the game in the top of the 9th, 5-5, and were fully expecting to take the game to extra innings. In the bullpen, Reid and Dwayne Pocock, Hapilopper’s closer, were warming up. Moss wanted to save Pocock for the bottom of the 10th inning.
As Travis walked to the mound, he looked suitably nervous. When he got there, he was joined by Moss, catcher Grady Elliott, first baseman Mo Beverly and shortstop Jerome Hayden, all of whom were there to provide their pitcher with words of encouragement. It hadn’t been the best day for the Hap Thrashers, as the team hadn’t led all day. Éloïse Baudry had blasted one to left field, leading 1-0 after the first inning. In fact, La Lumière led 3-0 at one point, and Hapiloppian pitching and hitting took a bit to get out of the blocks. But at least they had already won the series with two straight wins. But still, games like this were always frustrating.
“You know what to do, Reid,” Moss told his pitcher. “Just get those three guys out. You can do it. Hell, get them to pop out to the fielders. Get them to strike out. Get these three guys out, then you can go to the clubhouse and crack open a beer. You know what to do.”
As Hayden returned to his position at shortstop, he pulled his lineup card from his pocket and realized that getting three outs was going to be a lot harder than the manager had let on. The inning would be led off by Léa Côté, the first baseman, followed up by catcher Audrey Pellerin, then shortstop Valentine Raynaud. Maybe he could start off by getting Côté out. The inning would get off to a great start if he could.
Unfortunately, starting the inning, Travis had a hard time finding the plate. He walked Côté on four pitches, frustrating the Hapiloppian team. But Moss still had confidence. He figured that once Travis got his stride, he could strike out the side, or get them out and then Travis could go back to the clubhouse and drink a cold one. As Pellerin walked towards the batter’s box, Grady walked towards the mound.
“Dude, you good?” Grady asked.
“Yeah,” Travis said, although he was visibly sweating. “Just lost my grasp of it.”
“Well, you need to get it back, dude,” Grady replied before hustling back to home plate.
The next at-bat was just as frustrating. Travis did get it over the plate, but enough for Pellerin to hit a line drive over the head of Jerome Hayden for a base hit, on the first pitch of the at-bat. There were now runners on first and second, some great fielding from both Hayden and left fielder Dayton Rowe stopping Côté from advancing to third. It did nothing to help Travis’s confidence, but he figured he could at least try to force Valentine Raynaud to hit into a double play, and then he’d try to make Mariam Poulain pop up in the infield.
Dale Moss figured the same thing, and he stood against the railing of the dugout, figuring that the next two hitters would get out pretty quickly. He wasn’t worried. But perhaps he should have been. Standing next to him was Curtis Skinner and Samuel Kitchens, both of whom were pretty worried.
“Why’d you put him in, Moss?” Curtis asked. “Womack’s fresh and he might have gotten them out easily.”
“Womack pitched yesterday, he gave up two,” Moss explained. “We have two set-up men for a reason. One plays one day, the other plays the other. I gave him the day off, he’s probably in the cold tub drinking that shit-ass whiskey right now.”
“Well, maybe get him to warm up,” Curtis argued.
“Go get him,” Dale replied, with a tinge of frustration in his voice. “If you think we can get him to close this out, get him and we’ll warm him up.”
So Curtis rushed back to the Hapiloppian clubhouse to see Wayne Womack drinking a glass of whiskey – his third of the day – and watching the game. Curtis was just about to sit down and talk Womack into getting into the ballgame when the two heard, out in the dugout, cries of frustration from the Hapiloppian team.
“God damn it,” Wayne grumbled as he looked up at the television screen. “Want me to warm up? We need to get his ass out of the game.”
“Yeah, that’s what I came in here to ask you to do,” Curtis replied.
When the two emerged into the dugout, Moss looked at Wayne and pointed to the bullpen.
“Get your ass in there and WARM UP!” the skipper snapped, a tinge of anger in his voice. Dale then rushed to the pitcher’s mound to talk to this pitcher.
While Curtis had gone in to the clubhouse to speak to Wayne, Travis had tried to go inside on Raynaud. The first pitch, it worked for strike one. The second one didn’t, hitting Raynaud on the upper legs and sending her to first base. The bases were now loaded and the Haps were getting more and more frustrated by the minute.
“God damn it, Reid, I told you get those three guys out!” Dale barked to his pitcher. “We haven’t gotten a single one and now the bases are loaded! What the hell, man?”
“Been trying,” Travis replied nervously.
“Well Jesus Christ, man,” Dale snapped. “Third base scores, they win. Three outs. All I wanted. Three fucking outs. You get that batter out over there and you might finish the inning. Got it?”
“Yeah.”
Travis was nervous as hell as Mariam Poulain swung the bat to loosen up in the batter’s box. Anyone taking one glance at both hitter and pitcher could know what was going to happen next. Poulain looked relaxed, almost bored with the situation. Travis, on the other hand, was nervous as hell and he looked it. First pitch, outside for ball one. Grady had to chase after it, but when he did, he took off his mask and shouted “JUST RELAX, GOD DAMN IT!”
Travis did not relax. The second pitch was, unfortunately, right down the middle. It was what Poulain was looking for, and she did not miss. She got all of it, hammering it to deep right field.
As soon as Travis heard the bat crack with the impact of the ball, he knew it was gone. He watched it fly and put his head down as the ball started arcing downward past the fence. He said nothing and walked back to the dugout. Dale Moss and Curtis Skinner said nothing to Travis. They just looked at him. Travis looked over at them staring a hole right through him.
“I’m sorry,” Travis nervously said.
“Yeah,” Dale replied. “Not good, Reid. Not good.”
On the bright side, the Hap Thrashers had won the series against Le Choix and still held the lead in their group, as everyone pretty much expected them to. But that loss had to have stung a bit. It sure did for Travis Reid.
