The Ninth Inning (The Boys of Baseball #1) - J. Sterling Page 0,97
sent that text, I was still going to go tomorrow night. It was one of the last games of the regular season, and I wouldn’t miss Cole’s final performance at the plate for anything. Watching these last games online wouldn’t have been the same. Because that was what you did when you loved someone. You rooted for their success and cheered them on. I planned on doing both of those things from the stands.
After his text, I figured that Cole had most likely left me and Lauren tickets at Will Call, but I didn’t want to be presumptuous and assume. I oscillated back and forth between asking if he had or just using our student IDs and getting a pair of those tickets instead. As we waited in line, the crowd went wild. The game had already started, and we were late.
“If you don’t check when we get to the front, I will,” Lauren instructed. “I don’t want to sit out there.” She nudged her head toward the student section. “He always gives us way better seats, and you know it.”
“Fine,” I said as we inched closer to the ticket booth window.
When it was our turn, I said my name and held my breath. The guy asked me to sign a paper before handing me two tickets.
“I knew it!” Lauren exclaimed, waving her ticket in the air like she’d just won the lottery.
I couldn’t help but feel a little relieved with the gesture myself. “It’s a good sign,” I admitted as we looked for our section before making our way down the aisle toward our seats.
The stadium was packed. Sold out, the announcer had said, and we all knew why. The last games of the year always brought out the crowds. Everyone seemed to stop what they were doing in order to support the baseball team before the playoffs started.
Lowering myself into my stadium chair, I propped my feet up on the built-in cupholder, making sure not to knee the person in front of me in their back.
“I can’t believe how many draft people there are,” Lauren whispered as she looked around, and I laughed because I actually knew what she meant.
“Scouts. They’re called scouts. And I can,” I said before taking my own mental notes, grateful that I hadn’t missed Cole’s first at bat of the game.
You could tell which ones were interested in him by the way they perked up when he stepped into the on-deck circle. They grabbed their notebooks, their pens, their stopwatches, and their cell phones.
“We’re sort of surrounded by them,” Lauren whispered again, and I realized that there was a group of them sitting directly behind us.
When they announced Cole’s name, the crowd exploded. It had always been loud for him, but now that he was hitting like a madman with a bat of fire, things had grown exponentially louder. I added to it, yelling his name as he sauntered toward the plate, a man on a mission that no pitcher could stop.
Before he stepped into the batter’s box, Cole turned around and started scanning the stands.
“Oh Lord, not this again,” Lauren groaned before smacking her hand over her face.
His eyes found mine, and he locked on for a moment before giving me a head nod. I swore I melted on the spot. A few scouts turned to look at me, and my cheeks burned hot with the attention. Thankfully, it didn’t last long before they were refocused on my man at the plate.
I watched as they scribbled furiously in their notepads while simultaneously trying to film him with their phones. It seemed like every scout in the stands was finally paying attention to the only player I’d been paying attention to for years.
It had always been fun, watching Cole play, but this version of Cole was something else entirely. He dominated the batter’s box. His stance looked like a challenge. It was almost like he was daring the pitcher to try to strike him out when we all knew it was never going to happen. Not today, pitcher.
The loud clang of the metal bat hitting the ball rang out, and Cole tossed his bat to the ground as he jogged toward first. And when the ball sailed over the center field fence, he started trotting around the bases in confident strides. Pulling his helmet off his head once he stepped on home plate and met his cheering teammates, he looked up at me again and pointed like he had that one time before.