Chapter 13

(Chapter song ‘Good Vibrations' by Marky Mark and The Funky Bunch)

MARCUS I clap backs as I walk down the bench of dugout. Getting to my spot, I pull out my glove and thump my fist in it. I bend and twist it to warm it up.

The crowd is already riled up.

Henderson glances at me as he ties his cleat. “Will ya listen to that. They’re already hungry.” He grins.

“Of course they are. They want the Coop.” I smile and dust my shoulder.

“Yeah, ok.” He chuckles. “Just don’t be messing up out there. These animals might lynch ya.”

“No worries about that.” I stand and step out of the dugout. I turn to the stands and wave at the audience.

They jump to their feet and clap. I feel their cheers in my chest as I flash a pretty smile. Cameras flash as I toss a ball up and catch it in my glove.

Henderson runs out and motions for a toss.

I pitch him a curve ball and he dives for it. The fans go nuts as he throws it back. I glove it and smile.

“PLAY BALL!” The Umpire yells and out dugout empties.

As I head to the left short stop position, the umpire joins my side. He leans on my shoulder. “Don’t worry about the calls today. Just load them bases up and I’ll handle the rest.”

“What? What are ya talking about?” I stitch my brows together and look into his eyes.

“Nothing. Just a little gift for your upcoming nuptials.” He smirks, claps my back and runs to home plate.

“My what…” I look up behind home and see three men sit down dressed in black suits. “No…” I breathe as I make the connection to my father. “He wouldn’t cheat my game.”

One guy with short blonde hair connects with my eyes and nods slyly.

My eyes fall to the umpire and he gives me the same nod.

Fuck. What the hell do I do?

I run to my position and think hard about this.

We're playing the Yankees today and if this is what I think, they’re losing. Can I change that? I don’t want a cheat win.

As I wait for the pitcher to take the mound, Henderson gets my attention. “Cooper. Look.” He points to the dugout.

I see where he’s looking and find three people standing there. I recognize them.

“Holy shit. Is that the Hall of Fame committee?” My brows shoot up and I start to sweat.

“Yeah. Since when do they make house calls?” He says.

“They don’t.” I mutter as my eyes turn back to wise guys in the stands. One with medium length brown hair gives me a thumbs up.

Shit. Hall of Fame is one of my biggest dreams. How could my father know that? I bite my lower lip as I consider my position. If I purposely blow the game, they won’t induct me. If I go along with my dad, I’ll get inducted, but could be humiliated later.

Fucking hell!

“MARCUS!” Above the noise of the stadium, I stand straight and search out the voice I know so well.

Sophie is at the wall above the dugout. She’s waving and jumping. She stops and puts her hands to the sides of her mouth. “GIVE ‘EM HELL!”

I chuckle and wave back.

Damn. My guts are sick. You know what, I’m just going to play like I don’t know this is happening. At least I know my skills. If I play my best, they won’t have to use their cheat.

That’s right. I’ll play so well, they can’t ruin me and I’ll make my princess proud.

I lean on my knees, ready for the pitch.

The pitcher shakes his head a few times then nods.

He winds up and throws. The batter hits and the ball hits the dirt. I run, meet it infield, and snatch it. Without a second thought, I throw it to first as the runner gets within a foot of the bag. The baseman catches it and tags him.

“OUT!”

He rips his helmet off and grumbles all the way to his dugout.

One down, two more to go.

The second batter walks up to the plate and readies himself.

Our pitcher gets the call from the catcher and he throws a fastball.

The batter swings and misses. “Strike!”

The pitcher grinds the ball into his glove as he Sikes himself up. He pitches a slider and the batter hits it.

It hits the ground and I catch it on the bounce up. I throw it to the baseman and he catches as the runner crosses the base.

“OUT!”

“WHAT?!” The runner barks loud.

I reach up and the ball is tossed to me. “Just not fast enough for this arm, Peters.” I chuckle as I lob the ball back to our pitcher.

“THAT’S BULLSHIT! I WAS OVER!” He yells.

“I don’t make the calls. Talk to the Ump.” I shrug as he strides off to challenge the call.

I’m pretty sure that was all me, but in the off chance…

I shake my head. 2 outs. One more. Come on, Cooper you can do this.

The next hit is deep into left field.

The outfielders scramble for it and throw it back in seconds.

The batter rounds second base just as I catch it. I fire it to third and I see his foot touch before the baseman gloved the ball. He was definitely safe.

“OUT!!”

“NO WAY!” I instinctually yell.

Henderson runs to me. “Cooper."

“He was safe.” I growl as I motion to the base.

He gets up in my face. “Who’s team are ya on? Of the Ump calls out, ya take it.”

“But…”

“Enough, Cooper." He scowls and walks back to the dugout.

I groan in frustration and run back to the dugout.

I take a seat and look up to the screen on the wall that’s showing the televised announcers.

‘Uh oh. The Yankees coach has come out of the dugout.’

‘Thank goodness they aren’t wearing mics, Rod. Looking at that coaches red face…Don’t read lips kids.’

‘He’s pretty mad. The Yankees have been having some real bad luck with these close calls.’

‘Yep, but the replay clearly shows the ball meeting the plate before the runner. In my opinion the calls good, Ted.’

‘Which is great news for the Silver Bullets. The seasons just started and already they’re a favorite for the World Series. If Cooper can keep this teams momentum up, he can take them all they way to the top.’

‘It’s certainly looking that way. Let’s see what the bottom of the first has.’

The Yankees accept defeat and take to the field.

I glove my hands and select a bat. “Alright guys, let’s load up these bases.” I grin as I take to the field.

I step to the plate and knock the dirt off my cleats.

Raising the bat over my shoulder, I eye the pitcher as he selects his pitch.

He winds up, smokes it to me and I target the ball with laser focus.

I swing and smash it deep into right field. The audience goes wild as I throw my bat and take off.

The outfielder grabs the ball off the back wall as I round first and tear up the dirt to second.

He throws it infield as I round second and head to third.

The shortstop gloves it as I round third and barrel home.

I’m coming in like a bullet train and the catcher covers the plate.

He’s not moving and I’m coming in hot. The ball is thrown and I dive to my stomach for a slide to the plate. I reach out and feel his glove hit my back before my hand can touch the bag.

“Damn.” I mutter as the dust settles.

“SAFE!”

The fans scream in excitement and the scoreboard changes to 1-0.

“COME ON!” The catcher challenges.

My eyes shoot to the Ump and he winks at me.

“Nice home run.” He smirks as my jaw goes slack.

I stand, brush the dirt off and give the suits in the seats a glance. They clap for me and it twists my gut, but I keep my mouth shut as I walk to the dugout.

Slaps and shoves greet me as my team celebrates my run.

I try not to look concerned and plaster on a fake smile.

Inning after inning, the calls come in. They didn’t make it obvious to onlookers but as the scoreboard sits at 8-2 at the bottom of the ninth, I feel like someone should be noticing. I don’t think the Yanks have ever had a game this bad.

The announcers are chalking up their performance to new management and everyone’s laughing it off.

I’m not laughing. In fact, I’m trying to swallow my guilt as much as possible.

It got so much, I had to go to the John to splash some water on my face and cool myself down. I need to be calm or I’m exploding this powder keg in me.

As I dry my cheeks, the door opens and the three suits walk in. The last one locks the door as I slowly drop my hands.

My mouth goes small as they line up and puff out their chests. They all have at least five inches on me and thicker in muscle. These are big goons. My dad knew I’d fight back.

I study their tough guy faces as they eye each other and me.

“Hey, Marc. Nice game out there.” The blonde one says with a threatening smile.

“Yeah.” I throw the towel in the laundry hamper and cross my arms. “I suppose I should thank ya.”

He nods. “Thank the boss. We just deliver the message and make sure it’s clear.”

I step up to them, showing no fear. “You tell my father to go find another game to fix. I ain’t playing.”

The other two chuckle as the guy tilts his head. “See…baseball…it’s America’s past time, Marc. Your father…he has a soft spot for it. He just wants to see ya win. You should appreciate that.”

I snarl my lip. “I don’t win by cheating.”

He smiles, wipes his bottom lip with his thumb and glances at his friends. He chuckles, grabs my neck and lands one in my gut. He holds me before I can drop. “Ya do now, Marky. I’m not about to make the boss angry and if you want your pretty girls to live, you won’t want to either. You stop playing, they take silver to the brains. Am I clear?”

My face is green as my stomach threatens to puke with the punch and the guilt. I find his eyes and nod slowly.

“I’m glad we understand each other.” He claps my neck and motions for them to leave. “Great game, Cooper. I’m your biggest fan.” He smirks as he points to me. He walks out the door and the other two follow.

I fall to my knee and rub my face while I hold my stomach.

I’m fucking sunk.