over. I was drinking a Gatorade, but what I really wanted was a beer. Or stronger. “It could be worse.”
Rafael hung his head. “I’ve got a meeting on Friday with Doctor Andrews.”
Natalie gasped. “They’re thinking Tommy John surgery?”
“I don’t know. Maybe?”
“Shit,” I muttered. Tommy John surgery was common for baseball pitchers with injured arms. It was a procedure where they replaced the UCL in the elbow with a stronger tendon, and it was named for the first pitcher to undergo the surgery. The procedure made the elbow stronger in the long-term. Without it, Rafael’s elbow would be a ticking time-bomb for the rest of his career.
But the bad part? It took over a year of rehabilitation before a pitcher could play again.
“I’m sorry, Rafa,” I said. Doctor James Andrews was the orthopedic surgeon who performed most of these procedures. A pitcher visiting him was usually the kiss of death.
“You know what I’m most upset about right now? Since the appointment is on Friday, I won’t be able to travel with the team to New York for the rest of the series.”
“Taking care of your arm is what matters most,” Natalie said. “Being with the team is secondary.”
Rafael laughed bitterly. “I can’t believe this happened in my first playoff start. After all I’ve worked for. Fifteen years of non-stop baseball around the clock, and my arm falls apart when I need it most. What kind of luck is that?”
Suddenly Natalie gasped. “The blowjob!”
“The what?” I asked.
Rafael snorted. “It wasn’t that. Trust me.”
I sat up in my pool chair. “What blowjob?”
Natalie and I had done some filthy things together. But she still blushed when she turned to face me. “I gave Rafa a blowjob before the game. To help him relax.”
“Ah, shit,” I said. “Pitchers are superstitious. You shouldn’t mess with their routine on game day.”
Tears welled in Natalie’s eyes, and I immediately regretted what I had said.
“I mean, you didn’t cause it. That’s a dumb thing to believe.”
Rafael glared at me and put an arm around Natalie. “Listen to me. I’m where I am because of you. The injury has nothing to do with a little fooling around in your office. It did help me relax. Hell, if not for that I might have torn my UCL completely. For all you know, you saved my arm.”
She wiped tears from her eyes. “I’m sorry. You’ve had the worst day of your career and I’m making this all about me. I’m just so sorry, Rafa. This shouldn’t be happening to you. It’s not fair.”
“It’s not fair,” he repeated.
I gave Rafael his space because I knew that’s what he wanted. I went to bed early and managed to get a full night sleep. As much as I wanted to be there for my best friend, he was now out of the playoffs and I had my own routine to focus on. Moping around feeling bad for Rafael wouldn’t do anyone any good.
Gallaraga was on the mound the next night. He looked sharp from the start, mowing the hitters down in the first inning. He induced a lot of ground balls, which meant I had a busy night making outs at first base.
The Yankees number-two starter was a vicious lefty with a slider that fell off the table as soon as it crossed the plate. Everyone struggled against him, especially me. I had two strikeouts and a pop-fly in my first three at-bats. The only damage on the scoreboard were a pair of singles.
His downfall was an error in the eighth inning which allowed Preston to reach second base. The next batter put down a sacrifice bunt to move him over to third, and then I came to the plate and hit a fly ball that was caught for an out, but it was deep enough that the runner was able to tag-up and score from third. That slim lead was enough, and we held on to win 1-0.
After the game we packed our gear and flew to New York. We were staying in the Grant Hyatt New York, in Midtown Manhattan. I was exhausted by the time I walked into my room. Yet as soon as I climbed under the sheets and turned off the lights, a knock came at the door.
I angrily got up and checked the peep hole. A beautiful—yet equally exhausted—woman with a dark ponytail stood outside my door in her pajamas.
“I’m not having sex with you,” I said through the door.
Her response was quiet and muffled. “I know. I just…