"Focus, Danny," Team Ace's manager barked at me as I was sitting on the bench, slumped down and gazing listlessly at the ground.
I was a professional baseball player, and I was playing for Team Ace in the prestigious East-West Series championship. I was just twenty-one years old, but I already had a list of credits that would impress any seasoned slugger. I'd won Bronze in the big game in the season before, a phenomenal rookie year as part of the Ace's legendary team. And I'd fought like hell to get there. I was from a small town in the southern part of the country, where everyone else thought that just being an athlete was sufficient to make it big. I knew it wasn't so, and I'd worked damn hard to achieve my dream.
I'd used the small house that my parents had given me to make ends meet by hosting a handful of houseguests, and I shared the upkeep of the house with them. We ate at home, just like the old days, having a lot of fun times and clearing out a lot of pasta from the kitchen.
I'd used the money that I'd received from the small pig farm that my grandfather had started to buy a second hand truck and a ticket out of my small town. I bid farewell to my grandfather and the rest of my family who still lived there and never looked back. I started bribing my way through school and transferred to the nearest small-town college, where they let me in for absolutely nothing.
I was able to make it to the next level by playing for a travel team in a nearby city. I got signed to the Ace minor league team and made tremendous gains in every aspect of my baseball life, as well as in personal development.
"Hey, I'm out here. I'll get this guy out, okay?" I called out to the manager as I scooted to the edge of the bench. I snatched a bottle of water from the bucket and toted it on my way out to the field. Grunting softly to myself, I tried to release my frustration as I ran out from that dimly lit dugout. We were playing in the night games and in the field. I was thankful for the chilly breeze that hit me as the left field lights flickered on.
Just as I was getting prepared to find a warm-up pitch from the pitcher, I noticed the girl. She was sitting on the top bench. Her legs were dangling over the edge and she was staring into the distance, a small, pensive smile on her lips. It was bizarre to me, having noticed the little details few of them would notice—which was probably my sixth sense.
She was tall with a perfect pair of legs. Her sun-kissed hair was cut to a hip length and was tied up in a tight ponytail, which gave her a tousled look. Her blushed cheeks and full lips added to the sultry look she had going, accentuating the reddish brown hue of her long-sleeved jersey. I wondered how it felt to give her a little kiss. No. I knew from the look she was giving me, that it would take more than just a simple goodnight kiss to make her rhapsody over me.
She fiddled with the cap of the water bottle, rolling it into a ball. There was no one beside her, which was a refreshing thought. She looked at me again for a long time, and I pretended not to notice. It lessened my tight and anxious feeling.
The game was getting close to its final hours, the offense hadn't scored a single run to put a buffer between the team and the other team in the game. Team Ace was good and they had a shot at winning. I wanted to win badly because it was an honor for the baseball team from my town, the town I was born in, and the town I'd left many years ago. It was a carrot for me to play better. And the other team was good, too. They had been the runner ups in the previous series.
The pitcher on the other end pitched me a little bit harder than usual. I tried to adjust my body to the ball, preparing to swing it out of the park. I had a better grip on the ball and I hit it right out of my reach, sending it soaring into the sky. The lights at the back made the ball glow orange and yellow. Team Ace's manager screamed something to the pitcher. The girl screamed something about the ball, gesticulating wildly at the people on the field and in her direction.
I'd made a great game out of a losing one, and the other team had caught up with me. They scored two runs in succession and it didn't look like baseball was fun anymore.
They met me more than halfway in the outfield when the feelings of devastation started to hit me.
"That's okay, Danny," the manager said to me, patting me on the back with a large hand. "I knew you'd be able to deliver. It's good that you caught yourself on the right track. That's how you win the games."
The girl was still in place, still looking at me. It was an intense gaze that was making me feel vulnerable and exposed. I tried not to notice. Instead, I focused on the manager and on the other team who kept pointing at me from the field.
I left the field with my head down. I tried to pump myself up but I just couldn't get the momentum going. I slumped into my spot on the bench and tucked my helmet under my head. I gave them a smile and took out a couple of things from my pockets—a pack of gum, my keys, and a small revolver.
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