19. Callaway
19
CALLAWAY
“Mind over matter, boys. Get out there and give it your all. Remind yourselves why you love the game.” Coach Leggins encourages us as the team huddles in the dugout.
It’s our first home game of the season, and Striker fans came for a win. I love this game. The thrill of their excitement is a testament to how well we play. They may not realize that their cheering and eccentric spirit has a substantial impact on the team's morale, but it’s crucial. Our captain, Mack, cuts in with rowdiness, making the team jump up and down, firing us up as he shouts, “Atlanta Boys, where you at?”
We’re losing our grapes. “We right here!”
Mack shuffles around each of us, hitting our ball caps and yelling "Strikers" at the top of his lungs. The energy in the ballpark is intoxicating. Morale is at an all-time high, leaving us ready to take the field and dominate this season.
The last three weeks of pre-season have been consuming every waking hour of our days when we’re not practicing. Interviews, press duties, commercial ads, physicals, the whole lot of it taking up hours on end, leading to the season's first game.
Makers Park is known for its captivating views with the downtown Atlanta city skyline being the only view in sight outside of the Batter’s Eye. It’s rich and entrancing at night, which is part of the reason visitors prefer the evening game times.
My adrenaline feels like a potent drug tonight as I take the mound. Pitching has always been an action that calms me. After years of playing the game, nerves are almost non-existent, and I prefer to keep it that way. I don’t have a pregame ritual or lucky accessory. I’ve never been one to need anything really—just the game.
As I wait for the first batter in the line up to take the plate, my thoughts begin drifting to the last month and a half. Despite having a rigorous schedule, I’ve somehow found ways to make myself noticeable around Dakota. Not that she’s necessarily avoiding me, but it’s clear she is unsure of how to treat me, given us working together. Thankfully for her, I don’t give a fuck about any of that. I’m incapable of leaving her alone.
A part of me wonders if she will be here tonight. I would assume so since she’s the team photographer, but I have yet to set sights on her. Right now, my focus is on lighting this team up and taking home the win.
I nod at Bodhi, my best friend and our catcher, as he latches on to what I’m putting down in seconds. The first batter approaches the plate while Striker fans send off their roars; it’s time to strike .