Epilogue - Emmett
Epilogue
Emmett
One Year Later
I lean my elbows against the railing in my usual spot in the dugout.
It’s the same place I’ve stood during every game this year. The same spot I’ve watched every game in my coaching career.
But this game is different.
World Series. Game 5. Playing at home.
Something in the air is telling me this is the game. We’re up 3-1 in the series, heading into the bottom of the ninth. I probably shouldn’t be so confident. The game is tied after all. But I’ve been confident in this group all year.
And it just seems like fate that this record-breaking year, one of the best of my life, would be topped off with a World Series Championship.
The energy is humming around me. From both the guys in the dugout, as well as the packed stadium of fans. Then, of course, there’s all our families sitting in the section directly behind us.
Home or away, for this whole playoff run, Reese has bought out that entire section for the players to have their families close by.
Sure, some of these guys make ridiculous money.
They don’t need the help in purchasing expensive game tickets.
But there are others, like Milo, who are still on a rookie contract and shelling out that much for tickets to his World Series games wouldn’t be feasible.
So, Reese bought them for everyone. Without being asked to. Because of course she did.
She’ll tell you herself, baseball isn’t just a business anymore.
It’s been fucking adorable how stoked Milo gets before every postseason game when he finds his parents in the crowd.
He’s really grown into his own this year as a player and is now someone that every other team dreads to see at the plate.
His confidence has skyrocketed. Partly thanks to him playing well, and partly due to the help from the vets taking him under their wing.
Milo was Reese’s very first business move, and it’s going to be hard to beat.
But this offseason, she made some other strategic shifts, bringing on a couple more guys. They’ve been the missing puzzle pieces to our equation, and we’ve been the most winning club in the league this season because of it.
I’ll never forget the commissioner’s conference last year when I told Reese I wanted to finish the season with a better record than every other owner who treated her as if she didn’t belong.
This year, we did exactly that. Together.
We spent the offseason traveling together anytime she needed to do some scouting. We went on a couple of vacations. One with the whole family. One with just her and me.
Reese was a missing puzzle piece in her own way.
She fits seamlessly into our little family.
She gets along so well with both Kennedy and Miller, and of course, the Rhodes brothers think she’s great.
Five of the six of us spend every day together at the field, and Miller and the kids are here whenever they can be, so it’s not surprising how close Reese has grown to them.
She loves my family like they’re her own, and because biology doesn’t mean shit around here, that’s exactly what they’ve become.
That was evident shortly after our last season ended when Miller gave birth to her and Kai’s daughter, Emmy.
Reese came with me to the hospital to meet the newest addition to the family and when my daughter told me that her daughter was named after me .
. . yeah, I was a fucking mess in the best way possible.
I vividly remember looking over at Reese, who rarely gets emotional, to find her crying along with me.
That day solidified it for me. That she was a part of this. Our little family of eight.
When Kennedy and Isaiah got remarried before the start of this season, renewing their vows back in Vegas, Reese was there too. In the pews, watching me proudly, the same way she did at Kai and Miller’s wedding.
One of the best parts of this year together has been watching Reese’s confidence grow in her work.
She was always confident on the outside, held her own when needed, but last season when the media had something to say about her, I’d see it invisibly weigh on her shoulders.
But only when we were home and never at the stadium.
But she’s taken her team to the World Series in her second year. It’s hard to argue with those facts or find something to complain about. And more than just being the first female team owner in the league, Reese wants to be known for winning.
So that’s exactly what we’re going to do.
I’ve won a World Series as a field manager before. I have the ring. But nothing else will compare to this one if we can pull it off. Winning it for Reese. Winning it with Reese.
The crowd erupts when Travis gets his fourth ball, giving us a man on base. No outs. Bottom of the ninth. Still a tied game.
A calm confidence settles me as I watch, because I know it’s going to happen. We’re going to win it all. At home. In Reese’s stadium.
Isaiah bumps his shoulder against mine. “Hey, Monty. Remember that time you gave a speech last year about loving us because you were going to quit your job but then you were back the very next day?”
I burst into a laugh, and I’m sure any camera operator that’s focused on me right now is confused as to why I’m smiling when I should be stressing.
But I can’t help it. This is fun. All of this is fun.
“You’re a little shit, you know that?”
Isaiah flips the brim of his hat to the back, leaning on the railing right next to me. “I’m aware.”
Milo Jones makes his way to the plate, and the whole scene is just poetic. Not only that he’s become one of our biggest offensive threats, but because we’re playing against Houston tonight. Against the player that Reese got so much shit for trading.
Except Harrison Kaiser has hardly contributed to Houston’s success this year.
He’s been suspended twice. He was sent down to their triple-A team for a couple of weeks mid-season.
Their field manager told me earlier in the series that they’re itching to get him off their roster after his contract expires at the end of their season.
Which hopefully is tonight.
Not that I had any doubt in my mind, but Reese clearly made the right decision last year.
As Milo approaches the plate, I look up. To the owner’s box. Reese’s eyes are already on me, a proud and meaningful smile on her lips. She knows it too. It’s about to happen. I can see my own confidence mirrored in her.
Her parents and grandparents are up there with her, and I just know that Arthur is beaming with pride for his granddaughter as he watches this game.
Reese gives me a wink before I return my focus to the field.
Milo’s first pitch is a ball.
The second, he gets a piece of it, but it goes wide. It’s a foul ball, earning him a strike.
Isaiah swings his arm over my shoulders when the pitcher winds up for the third pitch of the sequence. Their closer is nervous, that’s evident. His team’s entire season is resting on his shoulders and he’s up against one of the best young hitters in the league.
And when he releases the pitch, he sends it straight down the center of the plate. Milo’s swing is flawless, and when his bat connects, he sends the ball deep. Deep into center field, over the ivy, much in the way he did that first day he hit a homer off Kai.
I couldn’t even tell you where the ball lands because it doesn’t matter. All that matters is that it’s gone, and we just won.
We just won the whole damn thing.
The stadium erupts in madness. The team rushes out of the dugout, meeting Travis at home plate before they charge Milo after he rounded second, dogpiling him there in the infield.
The bullpen flies out, joining the celebration, and Kai heads straight for his brother.
The next few moments are a whirlwind. My coaching staff comes over to celebrate with me. There’s a shit ton of cheering and shouting and hugging.
Finally, I run up the dugout stairs, joining our group on the field.
Kai is the first person I find there. He throws his arms around me, and I do the same.
Then Isaiah jumps in, and all three of us are celebrating.
Champagne soaks my shirt, but then I’m handed a new one that says, Windy City Warriors. World Champions.
“Holy shit, we did it!” Isaiah yells next to my ear.
“I love you guys!” Kai shouts.
Isaiah slips his new championship hat on, and Kai grabs a bottle of bubbles, chugging some before passing them to his brother.
But I look around the crowd because there’s only one person I want to celebrate with.
“Where’s Kenny?” Isaiah calls out. “Where’s my wife?”
Kennedy and the rest of the medical staff eventually make their way onto the field, and he sprints in her direction.
“Where’s Mills sitting?” Kai asks me, searching the family section for his wife and kids. I point up at those three, and when he finds them in the stands, he runs over to help them down onto the field.
Reese still isn’t out here. There’s got to be about a hundred people on the field already and she’s not one of them. I frantically scan the space, looking up to the owner’s box to find Reese’s parents and grandparents, but not her.
“Monty!” A reporter and camera operator run up with a microphone extended. “You just won the World Series, tell us what you’re thinking.”
“I’m thinking I need to celebrate with my girl, but I can’t find her.”
There’s literally only one person I want to talk to right now. One person I want to celebrate with.
The reporter points me in the right direction.
Finally, sharp blonde hair peeks out from the dugout tunnel. I can practically hear the click of her heels against the cement, the way the sound is so ingrained in my memory, as she makes her way to me.
The smile on my lips is instant.
Pushing through bodies, ignoring anyone who tries to stop me, I race across the field to her just as she takes the stairs up. She practically throws herself at me. I throw myself at her. As I lift her up, her legs wrap around me.
Now, I can celebrate.
“We did it!” Reese exclaims. It’s a mixture of disbelief, shock, and pure joy.
“Yeah, we did!” I press my face to her neck, holding her tight. “I love you so much.”
“I love you! I can’t believe this!”
“Believe it, Reese. We just did that. You just did that.”
“Marry me.”
That halts me in place. It’s loud on the field, so chaotic, that there’s no way I could have heard her correctly.
Pulling away, I make sure to look her in the eye this time. “What?”
“Marry me.”
Yeah. I did hear her right. Holy shit.
“Is that a question?” I ask.
“No.” She shakes her head, biting back her smile. “Marry me, Emmett.”
“Don’t tell me what to do.”
She laughs with me before I lean in and kiss her.
“Reese, baby, I’m really going to need you to stop beating me to things.” I set her on her feet before reaching into the back pocket of my baseball pants and pulling out the ring I’ve kept in there for the past two games, just in case.
But I’m glad this is happening here. On her field.
I get down on one knee, holding it out to her. “I don’t know that this ring will be able to beat the one we just won.”
She nods frantically, so much surprise written on her face. “It absolutely does.”
“Good.” I smile up at her. “Marry me, Reese. And no, I’m not asking either.”
Her laugh is watery. “This is the only time you get to tell me what to do. But just know that if you were to ask, my answer would be yes.”
Then I slip it on her finger, eager to fill the rest of her hand with many more rings to come.
THE END