need to talk to you!”
“Now? I’m a little busy, Natalie.”
“It’s Joel. He’s tipping his pitches.”
Darryl’s mouth fell open. “How?”
“He hangs his head more when he’s going to throw a fastball. He keeps it more vertical before a cutter.”
The manager stepped up next to us. “How sure are you?”
“I’m positive. I noticed it last inning, but I wasn’t sure until now.”
Excitement and hunger sparkled in Darryl’s eyes… And then it softened. He looked at me and fully understood what I was doing by telling them. How I was potentially destroying our friend to deliver this news.
He gave me a grateful pat on the arm, then carried his bat up to the on-deck circle.
“Should we call time-out?” I asked. “So we can tell Mauer?”
Before we had a chance, Mauer hit a ground ball to the first baseman for the second out of the inning.
“Shit. They’ll probably walk Darryl,” one of the guys on the bench said.
The only run that mattered was the winning run on second. Since nobody was on first, they could intentionally walk Darryl and it wouldn’t hurt them. Then they could pitch to Gallo after him.
While Darryl stepped up to the plate, our manager waved at the next batter in the lineup. “Gallo! Come here. Coach Betts saw something you should know about.”
As I explained the pitch tipping to him, the Dodgers manager visited the mound. The rest of the infield joined him. They chatted for a few moments before the manager walked back to the dugout.
I waited for the manager to signal to the umpire that they wanted to intentionally walk Darryl. But he made no such signal.
“They’re going to pitch to him?” our manager said. “What the…”
“They probably don’t like the matchup against Gallo!” I said excitedly. “Joel’s cutter is more effective against righties. He’d rather get Bryant out here, then let their left-handed reliever come in to face Gallo next inning.”
Whatever the reason, Darryl was going to get a chance to hit. He stepped up to the plate, wielding his bat like a club. The crowd was already loud and every person was on their feet, but they cranked up the noise another notch until it was ear-piercing. On the mound, Joel removed his hat and wiped sweat from his forehead. His blond hair was dark around the edges, but his resolve was strong. He was the confident, powerful reliever I had helped build.
And now I might help crush him.
The first pitch was a cutter inside. Darryl didn’t swing at it because he knew it was coming.
“Oh shit!” one of the other guys in the dugout said. “Coach Betts is right!”
“Shh,” the shortstop hissed. “Don’t say it too loud!”
Before the next pitch, Joel tilted his head forward more than before. He fired a fastball toward the inside edge of the strikezone, and Darryl swung as hard as he could. The ball shot straight back, fouled off. His timing was good but he had just barely missed it.
Knowing what was coming was only half the battle. A hitter still had to make contact with the ball, which wasn’t easy against an elite pitcher. The next pitch was a cutter inside for ball two. After that was a fastball up around the eyes for ball three.
Joel walked around the mound and wiped the sweat from his forehead. He looked tired and rattled. He had pitched in almost every game this series, including last night, and he had gotten five outs in this game. One more out and he would be done. I could see the determination on his face. All he had to do was get Darryl out and his job would be done. It would send the game into extra innings, where the less-exhausted Dodgers bullpen would have the advantage.
Darryl adjusted his footing in the batter’s box and leveled the bat on his shoulder. He was a giant of a man in that moment, gripping the bat while the camera bulbs flashed all around. Time seemed to slow down as he waited for the next pitch.
Joel toed the rubber and then came set with the ball. He tilted his head forward. I held my breath.
He threw the ball.
It was a fastball low in the strikezone. Not a bad pitch at all. But Darryl was ready for it, and he swung the bat with righteous fury. Like he was angry at the ball and wanted to banish it from our world. The sound was a thunderclap inside the domed stadium.
Everyone in Globe Life Field knew the ball was