cutter.”
He threw five of them last inning, I wanted to say. But pointing out the coach’s inattentiveness wouldn’t win me any approval, so I said, “He does throw a cutter. It’s similar enough to his fastball that I think he can be very successful throwing just those two. Like Mariano Rivera.”
“Rogers needs to pitch to contact. Sinkers and breaking balls. That’s all he’s good for.”
On the mound, Joel threw a slider that broke too much and hit the batter in the thigh. The batter tossed his bat aside and jogged down to first base.
“Coach, I disagree,” I said with as much tact as I could muster. “If Joel focuses on his fastball and cutter, I think he could be very successful. Especially if he’s used for only one inning, like a setup man or closer…”
“Closer! Hah!” Coach Schultz pulled out a flask and took a long pull. “You just sit there on the end of the bench and enjoy the game. Leave the big decisions to me.”
I bit my tongue and watched unhappily as Joel struggled on the mound.
14
Natalie
We started the season with a 3-4 record, then had a road trip to the west coast. Seattle was the first city on the trip, a four-game series against the Mariners. Rafa was electric in his next start, pitching eight innings and giving up just two runs.
After the game, he snuck away from the other players and joined me in my hotel room for a special cool-down that was anything but cool. We explored each other’s bodies underneath the soft hotel sheets, kissing and licking and sucking like two people who were eager to see what each other enjoyed. Afterward we couldn’t decide what to get from room service, so we ordered six different dishes and shared a little bit of each.
Joel pitched in two of the Seattle games. He struggled in one of them, but in the second game he pitched two scoreless innings using his old repertoire of sinkers and curveballs.
“See?” Coach Schultz told me. “Joel’s better off with my strategy.”
“He got lucky. Three of his outs were hard-hit line drives.”
“There are no photos on the scorecard,” he replied confidently. “Two shutout innings is two shutout innings.”
I stopped arguing with Coach Schultz after that. He had been a pitching coach for too long—he was stubborn. If he couldn’t grasp the importance of analytical data, then I wasn’t going to be able to convince him.
After winning three out of four games in Seattle, we flew to Oakland for the next series. Everyone was happy and boisterous on the plane except for Darryl, who sat in his seat with his headphones on.
“Yo, Dingers!” one of the players shouted. “You got a bat up your ass or something?”
“Leave him alone,” someone else said. “He hasn’t hit a home run since the second game of the season. He’s in an oh-for-twenty stretch.”
“Oh, damn. I didn’t know.”
Darryl removed his headphones. “Oh-for-twenty-two. But it ain’t a big deal. I’ll get hot against the Athletics.”
“You always slump in Seattle,” Joel teased. “They must have good strip clubs!”
“They got good strip clubs in the bay area,” someone else announced. “Darryl Dingers is in trouble.”
Darryl pointed a tattooed hand across the plane. “I bet I get more hits this series than you.”
“You’re on!”
Once it was pointed out, I began noticing Darryl’s problems at the plate. Whether due to the quality of strip clubs or another reason, he continued to struggle. He drew two walks during the series, and got a bloop single, but aside from that he looked totally lost at the plate. At least half a dozen bats were smashed over his muscular thighs.
Later that night, I went down to the hotel restaurant to grab some food. A cluster of bullpen pitchers—including Joel—were sharing a pitcher of beer at the bar.
“Coach Natalie!” they shouted when they saw me. “Come have a drink! We need you to settle a bet.”
Joel had told the other pitchers how I helped him with his issues, and soon everyone was asking me for my opinion on their form and pitch selection. Slowly but surely I was developing a rapport with the team.
On the way to the bar, I saw Darryl sitting alone in a booth. He was wearing a leather jacket and had a Rangers baseball cap pulled low over his eyes while he nursed a glass of dark liquor. His entire demeanor screamed I want to be left alone.
“What’s the bet?” I asked the relief corp at the bar.
Joel slid a beer