hand and his helmet in the other. “Our bullpen is giving everything they have out there. We can’t let them down. We need to end this now.”
He put on his batting helmet and marched out to the plate angrily. The Dodgers were almost out of pitchers too, although they hadn’t wasted their game seven starter. Their current pitcher had been on the mound since the thirteenth, and looked gassed. But they didn’t have anyone up in their bullpen, so they were going to stick with him.
That proved fatal. Darryl was patient at the plate and drew a walk. As soon as ball four hit the catcher’s glove, Darryl tossed his bat aside and clapped his hands eagerly. “Let’s go! Let’s go!”
The manager sent out a pinch runner to take his place. On the first pitch, the runner took off at a dead sprint for second, barely sliding in ahead of the throw from the catcher. The next batter lined a single up the middle, and the runner rounded third and sprinted home. He slid across the plate well ahead of the throw, ending the game after seventeen innings.
The Rangers fans, who were still all here despite it being two in the morning, went nuts. But the players themselves celebrated at the plate in a more subdued fashion. Everyone was happy and excited to be playing one more game… but they were dead tired, too.
To me it felt like a Pyrrhic victory. We had won tonight to force a game seven, but we had used up all our pitchers.
I shared a look with my dad in the front row of the stands. What were we going to do?
40
Natalie
Everyone slept in the next morning. The only thing that pulled me out of bed at ten was the smell of breakfast. I found Rafael in the kitchen, hunched over a skillet. Darryl was sitting at the kitchen table with a plate full of French toast.
“This is something I never thought I’d see,” I said. “Rafa’s making breakfast?”
“You guys deserved it after yesterday’s game,” he said while coating a piece of toast with egg and cinnamon.
“This morning,” Darryl corrected. He sounded tired. “Technically, the game didn’t end until this morning.”
I took the seat next to him and rubbed his bare back. His muscles were splayed out because of the way he was hunched over his food.
“If not for you, we would still be playing,” I said.
“Gotta admit: that walk was more satisfying than any home run,” he replied. “Who do we have on the mound tonight?”
I let out a long sigh. “That’s the big question.”
“Talk through it. What are our options?”
“Sending Gallaraga out there on short rest is our first idea. We already told him to be prepared for that, but I don’t like it. His numbers are awful when he pitches on short rest. And he wasn’t exactly stellar in games one and five. We might get a couple of innings out of Carter. Beyond that, we need to lean on our relievers. Everyone is going to need to pitch another inning tonight. Maybe more. All hands on deck.”
“What about ‘Mingo?” Darryl asked, using Domingo’s nickname. “He only pitched two innings last night.”
“But he still threw over sixty pitches,” I pointed out. “He’s a bad option on a list of bad options.”
Rafael had remained silent throughout the discussion. He plated two pieces of golden-brown French toast and brought them to me with a jar of warm maple syrup.
“What about me?” he asked.
Darryl and I both laughed. But it wasn’t a joke. Rafael sat across from us at the table and steepled his hands.
“I’m serious. My arm feels fine. I threw forty pitches in a simulated bullpen the other day. And I’m still on the playoff roster.”
I gestured at the food in front of me. “Is that what this is about? You’re buttering me up with breakfast food so that I’ll let you start tonight?”
He stared back impassively. “Tell me why I can’t.”
I wanted to dig into the food, but I forced myself to wait. “Your velocity is way down. A mid-eighties fastball isn’t going to cut it against the Dodgers.”
“I can locate my pitches,” he replied smoothly. “Nibble around the corners. Rely on my two-seamer and breaking pitches. I won’t give them anything flat to hit.”
“What about your arm health? Sure, your elbow feels good now. But you might injure yourself further.”
“All the scans have come back clean. There’s no scar tissue or damage at all.”
“It’s still a risk, Rafa.”
“It’s my career on