The Season, Part 20

Right, if you read these updates with any sort of regularity I need you to do me a favor and post in a comment which character or characters most intrigue you or which you think are most important to the story. I have a reason for this, but it's secret.

Also, if you plan on going to Yankee Stadium on opening day, or just plan on watching the game on TV, feel free to RVSP "Attending" here!


I can't believe this is two decades old already...

Short update again this week; Friday's my normal writing day but I was stuck working on my thesis for nearly all of it and I spent a large part of day doing work for a group project for one of my political science classes.

Part One
Part Two
Part Three
Part Four
Part Five
Part Six
Part Seven
Part Eight
Part Nine
Part Ten
Part Eleven
Part Twelve
Part Thirteen
Part 14
Part 15
Part 16
Part 17
Part 18
Part 19

As always, (c) Rebecca Glass, all international copyright laws apply. Please protect intellectual property rights.


The Season, Part 20

JULY

#16, Adrian Martinez, third baseman

The All Star game always has a little something extra to it; it’s not the lazy spring-training affair, nor is it the intense competition of October, but it’s fun. This year, with the game in Denver, the game starts early enough that he’ll also be able to enjoy the evening afterwards. It’s his third all-star appearance in the five years he’s played for the Spartans, but that doesn’t take away from the experience, at all. It’s not just the game, but it’s the Home Run Derby the day before, the rookie game the day of and the atmosphere of being encouraged to show off for the fans.

It’s a cool, but not cold and clear night. Adrian’s in his favorite place of the evening—the dugout—immersed in conversation with Jeff Pullman from New York. It’s the only time of the season he’s got a real chance to talk to him; on any other night he would be branded as a traitor by the Hope City press. They both share a deep love for breakfast foods, though Adrian prefers waffles and Jeff pancakes.

“My family’s from this area,” Jeff says, ignoring the TV station filming the East’s manager next to him, “and I guarantee that there is no place better for breakfast than Racine’s.”

“How are the waffles? It’s all I care about,” Adrian laughs. “Can I get them with hot butter and whipped cream?”

“Any way you like. They’re thick and fluffy, like the pancakes, and loaded with powdered sugar.”

“Powdered sugar? All right, now, I’m hungry.”

“Go after the game!”

“Nah, I can’t, already going to eat with Cory and Willy.” Cory Daniels and William Tully are the other Spartans to make the All Star team; it’s Cory’s second appearance and William’s first. William and Cory are both in the bullpen, having not had a chance to pitch yet, but Adrian knows even if Cory was in the dugout, he wouldn’t be caught dead talking to Jeff Pullman. For Cory, the New York-Hope City rivalry holds true year-round.

“No reason you can’t eat at Racine’s.”

“It’s a family place?” Both Cory and William have brought family members with them, and William, being a pastor’s son, has fit the stereotype quite nicely.

“Yeah. In fact, might be too many kids there.” Jeff laughs, and Adrian manages to smile. It sounds like a far cry from the nightclubs that he and Leo often frequent.

“Cheap?”

“You’ll get people wondering just how poor Charlie Haus is.”

“Ah.” Adrian has one of the highest salaries, by far, on the Spartans, and
while he’s not shy about the talent he has, it puts him in an uncomfortable position. While defending his paycheck on the field is no issue, off the field can be an occasional adventure.

“Speaking of Mr. Haus,” Jeff muses, “how is he doing?”

“Fine, I think.” The question catches Adrian off guard. Like the rest of the Spartans he speaks to Charlie Haus on occasion, before or after a home game, just to say hello. Charlie Haus has a reputation as being a very good owner, but at the same time, being a mostly hands-off owner as well. It’s the only reason Pete Towers has survived in his job for twenty years without a Championship, and even this year, the ultimatum was made to Pete only after considerable pressure from the season ticket holders.

“You sure about that?” Jeff’s demeanor loses the relaxed poise it had a moment ago. Instead, it’s replaced with a concern that Adrian can’t quite read.

“Uh, yeah…I mean, we’re not best friends or anything, but as far as I know, he’s fine.”

“What, do you and Richie never talk or something?” There is astonishment on Jeff’s face.

“We’re teammates, not lovers.” The comment would have been humorous in another setting, but Jeff’s changed demeanor has Adrian on edge. In truth, he tries not to talk to Richie much more than he has to—Richie is no pariah; he comes to play every day and that’s the most that can be asked of him, but his position as the son of Charlie Haus makes it awkward for most of the Spartans to try to cultivate a friendship with him. The only one that can get away with it is Terry, as his career only started when Brendan Haus spotted him at a high school game.

“He doesn’t tell you anything?”

“You mean about his life? We don’t ask, he doesn’t offer. It’d be uncomfortable, anyway.”

“I see. Well, when we were up to play you last month, you know how I hurt my knee?”

“Yeah, you nearly spiked me.” Jeff had twisted his knee while trying to steal third; it hadn’t been serious but if Adrian hadn’t been paying attention, Jeff’s spikes would have probably caught the back of Adrian’s calf.

“Yeah well, trainer wanted me to get an MRI, so I went to that hospital by you, what is it, Bellvue? Anyway, while I’m in the lobby figuring out which floor the MRI’s on, I run into Richie. So I ask him what he’s doing there and he says it’s his father.”

“Oh?” Adrian is not quick to jump to any conclusions; as far as he knows Charlie Haus might have just cut his thumb with a bagel slicer and needed a few stitches. “He didn’t say why?”

“No, and I didn’t ask, but the look on his face…there was something going on.”

“I’m sure if it was serious enough we would know about it,” Adrian says, though he’s not really sure if this is true.

“I hope it’s nothing. Really, I do. You guys have been through enough this season already, what with Micah and all.”

“Hah, if you wanted to help us, you and the rest of New York could roll over and play dead.” Adrian chuckles, but it is forced and sounds odd.

“It’s not us you have to worry about,” Jeff says, serious but not heavy, “not as long as New England’s got something going.”

“They never last past August.”

“Hope you’re right, but somehow, this year, I doubt it.” Jeff shrugs. The current batter, Cleveland’s catcher Toby Brady, strikes out for the third out. Adrian grabs his glove and goes to take the field, but his mind is no longer on the moment.