to answer truthfully here: do you think Rafa should start tonight? Or are your feelings clouding your judgment?”
I looked around to make sure nobody else was within earshot. “I think he should start tonight. And that opinion has nothing to do with my personal relationship with Rafa.”
“I hope you’re right,” he said. “Because it’s his health on the line if you’re wrong.”
41
Rafael
When I warmed up that afternoon, pretty much every single Rangers coach or staff member was there to watch. Theo, Coach Betts, the bullpen coach, the manager, the trainers. Even the two hitting coaches were crowded into the bullpen to watch me throw. It was like I was a prospect again, being scouted out of college prior to the draft.
The bullpen had two mounds and two home plates, and Gallaraga was warming up on the one next to me. “Feels like I’m in a petri dish,” he muttered.
“Just be glad they’re not looking at you.” I went into my windup and fired a two-seam fastball to the catcher. I hit my spot perfectly.
“That’s good for now,” Natalie called over to me. Then she and the coaches all huddled together to discuss it.
The starting pitcher for the game didn’t need to be announced until the lineup card was submitted right before the game. However, starting pitchers were usually announced days in advance so the guys in marketing could promote the game. It was tough to create a television commercial when you had no idea who was going to be pitching.
So it was highly unusual for the Rangers to have not made the announcement. I could sense the anxiousness among the fans who had filed into the stadium early. Everyone knew that the Rangers had used up most of their pitching last night. Tonight was going to be ugly.
Gallaraga stopped and put a hand on his hip. “You sure you can do this?”
“Nope,” I admitted. “But I have to try.”
On the other side of the bullpen, Natalie flashed me a thumbs-up. All of them filed out of the bullpen and walked across the outfield.
“Hope you can do it, buddy,” Gallaraga said, giving me a fist bump. “I’ll be right behind you, ready to go just in case.”
“Appreciate it.”
A strange cheer went up in the crowd, spreading out like the wave. Gallaraga pointed. “Looks like they made the announcement.
I gazed up at the jumbotron above the field.
GAME 7 STARTER
RIVERA, RAFAEL
Goosebumps covered my skin. I had spent all day trying to convince Natalie to let me pitch, and preparing to do so. I hadn’t stopped to think about what exactly that meant. Now the cheers washed over me and lifted my spirits.
I was pitching in the final game of the World Series.
I savored it for ten long seconds and then tuned everything out so I could finish preparing for the game.
It went by faster than any warm-up before. The national anthem played. The rosters were announced. Then it was time to make the long walk from the bullpen, across the perfect green grass of the outfield to the flawless dirt of the infield. The crowd was electric as I stepped onto the mound.
In baseball, the visiting team always batted first. This was because the home team had the advantage of batting last, which always gave them one last chance in the ninth inning or extra innings. But as a pitcher, I liked to think of it differently. The ball was mine. I had it first, and I was charged with welcoming the visitors.
This was our house. If the Dodgers wanted to score, they had to go through me.
I was prouder than I had ever been in my life as I bent down to pick up the ball. I was a little nervous, but I was excited too. For the past few weeks I had been a bystander to my team’s playoff run. Now I was here on the mound and finally had a chance to pitch.
I patted my right elbow with my glove. “I’m begging you, arm. Don’t fail me tonight.”
I made a few practice pitches, but it was all for show. My arm was warmed up and I was ready. At least, as ready as I was ever going to be.
“Now batting for the Los Angeles Dodgers…”
The first batter stepped into the batter’s box. My catcher put down one finger, and I nodded and began the windup. I stepped on the rubber with my right cleat, kicked my left knee up until it nearly touched my chin, and stepped forward, cracking my