Chapter 5 #2
Growing up I’d taken a lot of dance classes—thanks to my mom being a well-known Ballerina—but despite the years of training I found my passions elsewhere, and I'm not even sure I’d stand a chance in a dance battle against him.
“I’ve got my eyes on you,” Fletcher tells the viewers, pointing a finger between his eyes and the camera. “Oh, and before I forget, I can’t wait to see you on opening night and during the rest of the season,” he says, continuing to charm everyone, me included.
“Alright, Alright, get back to practice,” Easten jokes, giving Fletcher a light shove. “We need you primed and ready so we can not only take on the Rowdy Rattlers next Friday, but crush them as well.”
Fletcher waves goodbye, and Easten turns back to the camera. “Okay, before we take a vote, are there any other candidates you want me to interview?”
A few random comments pop up in the feed suggesting different players, but the majority keep chanting Fletcher’s name. Looks like everything is going to go according to plan.
Hallelujah!
As much as I wanted to sway the audience, I kept things fair as we interviewed a few more players before taking the final vote. Surprising absolutely no one, the people chose Fletch as their victor. Not only did he win, he absolutely destroyed it with eighty-percent of the votes.
Thankfully, Bruce, the head coach of The Honky Tonks wasn’t too annoyed when I asked to borrow the entire team for the ultimate dance battle between Fletcher and Honkers.
While the game itself and keeping the players in prime condition is important, everyone knows the real heart and soul of Honky Tonk ball is the way they incorporate the fans and make them feel like they’re part of the family.
And right now, with the live numbers growing, it’s clear they’re absolutely eating this up.
“Alright,” Easten says, slipping easily back into his role as host. “The votes are in. The people have spoken, and it is with great honor that I present to you...” he trails off, letting the excitement build as everyone joins in, slamming their hands on their legs to create a drumroll.
“Number eight! The incredibly talented, the ridiculously handsome, and our occasionally humble shortstop... Mason Fletcher. He’s your choice for our pinch dancer in a one-on-one showdown against none other than Honkers, the Honky Tonk’n duck!”
The team erupts into loud cheers. Given their reactions as they jump around and scream, one could possibly assume we just announced they officially made it into the World Series. But nope, it’s only the dancer for our silly, little dance battle, but they’re selling it and that’s all that matters.
I make sure to capture it all as Fletch and Honkers take their positions in the middle with the team forming a semi-circle around them.
“Now, it’s time to reveal the song, which once again, was voted for by you.” He points toward the camera before forming a heart with his fingers. “Our cherished fans. So, without further ado, the song chosen was… “Buttons” by the Pussycat Dolls.”
The players continue to jump around, laugh, holler, and cheer as a few gang up on Fletch, patting his back and shoulders as if they’re truly sending him off to war. Meanwhile, he looks annoyingly cool and collected—thrilled, even, because of course he is.
“You boys ready?” Easten asks, his eyes bouncing between the two contenders.
They both nod. Fletcher, grinning wide, cracks his knuckles as Honkers tips his giant hat like the adorable gentleman he is.
It’s showtime, baby!
Easten points his fingers toward the sound booth, giving them a small spin. Seconds later, the music blasts through the stadium.
My eyes are drawn toward Fletcher, but I have to give credit where credit is due, because Benny, the man under the Honkers costume, is killing it. Despite having the disadvantage of being in a duck suit, the man has some major skill, and is giving Fletch a run for his money.
They both play surprisingly fair, taking turns, letting the other soak up a few moments of the spotlight as they move their bodies to the music, each adding their own little bits of flair.
Fletcher even busts out the worm, earning a loud roar of applause from the team.
I do my best to stay professional behind the camera, but I can’t help myself as small whoop slips out.
Okay, maybe more than once. Okay, fine. A lot. Sue me.
Plus, how could I not be happy? With hearts flying up the screen and the viewer count still climbing, it’s obvious my plan not only worked, but exceeded even my highest of expectations.
Well... okay, maybe not entirely, since I’d originally set out to humiliate Fletch in some way, at least a little bit. It would've been at least a tiny bit satisfying to wipe that charming, yet annoyingly smug grin off his pretty little face.
This works too, though, I suppose... especially since it’s becoming increasingly obvious that we just created viral internet gold. We’re talking over fifty-thousand viewers and counting. The Honky Tonks are finally getting the attention they truly deserve.
Who knew all we had to do to make it happen was have Mason Fletcher dance with a duck?