analytics portal. I accessed the latter and my eyes widened with wonder. The videotape from that day’s game was already uploaded and broken down by inning. There were even time stamps for each individual pitch. Rather than watching the entire game, all I had to do was click on the timestamp and it would jump straight to that pitch. First inning, second batter, first pitch. Four-seam fastball.
“This really is the big leagues,” I muttered as I got to work.
I spent an hour going through all the footage. Watching Rafael accept the sign from the catcher, become set with the ball in the glove, and then begin his windup. I was even more certain of my conclusion when I was done. When Rafael was about to throw a fastball, he came set with the ball inside his glove just above his belt. When he was about to throw a changeup, he held his glove a little bit lower.
Rafael was definitely tipping his pitches.
I saved a few screenshots contrasting the difference in the two pitches. Maybe if I showed Coach Schultz some hard evidence he would listen to me. My stomach rumbled. It was dark outside my window. Time to get some food from the hotel restaurant.
As soon as I walked outside my door, it was like entering another world. The hallway was filled with minor league baseball players laughing and shouting. Every door was open and players teased each other when they passed. It reminded me of a college dorm.
“Anyone want to head back to the complex, get another workout in?” one player shouted.
“Boy, I’m trying to find a titty bar!” someone else replied to uproarious laughter.
The banter quieted down as I walked down the hall. It was incredibly intimidating seeing every single player stop talking and watch me with confusion.
“She in the press pool?” someone whispered after I passed.
“Probably an athletic trainer.”
“That’s what I’m talking about.”
I suffered it the same way I had suffered such talk my entire life. Letting them know it got on my nerves would only encourage them. Thick skin couldn’t be pierced, my dad always said.
Besides, I had heard much worse before.
The hotel restaurant had a deal with the Texas Rangers to provide food. All I had to do was flash my badge and I could order anything from a pre-set menu. I chose a chicken sandwich and sweet potato fries and wandered around the lobby while I waited. There was a business office with two computers and a printer next to the restaurant. Maybe I could print out the photos of Rafael pitching. That might convince an old-schooler like Coach Schultz more than a digital copy.
I accepted my food in a styrofoam container and went back upstairs. The hallway was far more peaceful now. The players must have figured out if they were going to work out or find a strip club.
I was almost to my room when a voice called out. “Coach!”
I paused in an open doorway. Rafael Rivera was seated inside. He waved to me. “Yeah, you. Come here a minute.”
The room was the same as mine, with two beds and a table. Rafael was seated at the table with a giant ice sleeve covering his right arm. He wore baggy athletic shorts, and a grey Texas Rangers tank top that fit his lean body like a glove. Butterflies flew around in my stomach at the sight of him. It would definitely take some time before I stopped being star-struck around them.
Rafael wasn’t alone. Sitting on one of the beds with his legs stretched out was Joel Rogers. His history popped up in my head automatically. A left-handed starting pitcher who threw a fastball, slider, and curveball. He was a borderline candidate to make the team, and was competing with two other guys for the fifth spot on the rotation. He had bounced around in the minor leagues for years.
But what wasn’t listed on his player page was his good-looks. He had short blond hair and baby blue eyes that pierced me from across the room. He wore shorts and a tank top like Rafael, but he was a lot more jacked. The muscles in his arms bulged as he crossed them in front of his chest. He was like if a blond pretty-boy decided to gain twenty pounds of muscle in the gym. It was a surprising—and sexy—combination.
I swallowed my nervousness and told Rafael, “Surprised to see you in the hotel instead of an Airbnb.”
He shrugged the shoulder that wasn’t supporting his