40. Chapter 40
Chapter forty
Adrián
We need one more out, then one run, and we’re in.
The first pitch is wide, a clear ball. The batter swings and misses the second pitch. Our pitcher checks the runner on first before throwing the third pitch, and that familiar crack of the bat sounds through the stadium.
It’s a pop fly heading down the third base foul line, and I run toward it, keeping my eyes on the ball’s trajectory. I can get this. I can end it.
Nearing the rail where fans stand level with the field, I watch where the ball is going to drop—just on the other side of that rail. Without losing sight of the ball in the air, I lean against the rail and dive with my glove extended, twisting my arm above my head to catch the ball.
The eager seat holders catch me as I tumble over the rail with the ball secured in my glove.
As soon as the fans right me to my feet, I hold my glove aloft, making sure the umpires know I caught it.
I can already see the instant replay on the jumbotron, clear evidence that I caught the out.
Fans slap my shoulders and wildly celebrate as I hop back over the railing.
I turn to clap in appreciation to them for allowing me to make the catch without interference before I jog to the dugout.
Our first batter of the inning strikes out, and I’m up next in the lineup.
As I walk to home plate, I look up in the stands where Griffin, Danae, Jason, and Samantha are sitting.
Samantha’s hands are tented over her mouth as she leans forward, elbows propped on her knees.
When she catches my eyes on her, she stands, holding her hands over her heart.
I clap one hand to my chest and blow her a kiss as I step into the batter’s box, getting my head in the zone. The first pitch is a low ball, the second wide to the outside, and the third too high. Come on. Give me something I can swing at, I think as I settle into my stance.
A fastball comes straight down the middle, and I swing with everything I’ve got.
It’s a low fly toward center field, and I pray it drops between the outfielders as I run to first. A celebratory roar from the crowd assures me that the ball hit the ground, and I sprint the final few feet and beat the throw to first.
When Drew comes up to bat, he hits a single bouncing into right field, advancing me to second but getting thrown out at first. As Carson walks up to the plate, tension is written all over his posture.
I take a small lead off second but have to tag back when he swings and misses the first pitch.
He steps out of the batter’s box, staring at the bat raised in front of him.
His shoulders are so tight they’re practically up to his ears, and I mentally channel a message to him.
Loosen up. Have fun. Enjoy this moment, kid.
He rolls out his shoulders and steps back up to the plate, looking calmer as he takes up his batting stance.
When he makes contact with the ball, I know it’s going far but not quite a homer.
I start to run toward third, holding myself back in case the ball is caught and I have to tag back to second.
But two of the outfielders miscommunicate, getting in each other’s way, and the ball hits the ground.
Swiveling my body, I sprint toward third, watching for the coach’s signal.
When he motions me onward, I round the base and run home faster than I’ve ever moved in my life.
Over the clamor of the crowd, I hear Coach’s voice screaming to slide, and I lower my body, extending my left leg in front of me and controlling the slide with my right hand to the ground.
I watch as the catcher’s glove closes around the ball, as he moves the glove to tag my leg.
But not before my foot tags home plate.
“Safe!” the umpire yells, arms extended to his sides.
The crowd roars, and I’d swear I hear Samantha’s enthusiastic scream above the noise.
Lying back on the ground, I stare up at the sky, bright with stadium lights and flaring fireworks.
I grin as Carson and the rest of my teammates pile on top of me, temporarily crushing my lungs before pulling me to my feet for a proper celebration.
“That’s what I’m talking about, chamo,” I tell Carson as I bear-hug him.
“Nice run, man,” he replies with a wide grin, right before we’re simultaneously soaked in icy Gatorade.
Spirits are high as American League Champions shirts are passed out ahead of the trophy ceremony. In between receiving celebratory hugs and high fives, I scan the growing crowd with eagle eyes, watching for Samantha to come out with the other family members preapproved to enter the field.
The streaming-series camera crew is plastered to my side filming, and I’m stopped by a reporter to answer some questions.
I try to describe what was going through my mind on that final run.
When my eyes snag on Samantha sauntering toward me, I halt mid-sentence and sprint across the field to her.
Catching her waist in my arms, I spin her around, laughing with pure joy together.
I plant my lips on hers the same instant I plant her feet back on the ground, holding her cheeks to keep her in the kiss. She smiles against my mouth, wrapping her arms around my waist as I arch her backward.
“You did it,” she says when I finally let her breathe. “You’re really going to the World Series, Adrián.”
“I know I told you I wouldn’t ask you to plan your schedule around mine, but I hope you’ll cancel your hair customers for the next week,” I say, making Samantha burst out laughing. “Because I need you at every game, cielo.”
She lunges onto her toes to kiss me again, and I lift her up to wrap her legs around my waist. I vaguely hear the sounds of the trophy ceremony starting, but I don’t even care to turn around to watch. Not when I have everything in my arms already.
Samantha eventually straightens her legs to return to the ground, and we join the semicircle of other players and their families.
We line up next to Lily and Drew, who’s holding a wide-eyed Asher.
Speeches are made, acknowledgments given to our management and coaching staff, but I’m caught off guard when they call me up to receive the Most Valuable Player trophy.
Samantha jumps up and down next to me, quickly kissing my cheek before pushing me to go up on stage.
I can’t contain my grin as I stare at the trophy in my hands, the reporter listing off all of my highlights from the night.
I look up and meet Samantha’s eyes across the crowd, and my grin softens to a tender smile.
When the reporter holds the microphone in front of me, I say, “A huge thank you to the entire Crowns organization for working together to get us here tonight. Thank you to the best fans in the MLB for always cheering us on and for getting out of the way so I could catch that foul ball.” Everyone erupts with laughter, and I pause to laugh along.
“To my father, Juan Ortiz, thank you for pouring your life into getting me here. I’m here because of you.
To my late mother, Valentina, thank you for planting dreams in my heart.
” I pause, swallowing the swell of emotion.
Looking up to find my cielo, I say, “And to my girlfriend, Samantha West, I love you. You’re my highlight. ”
The stands explode with thunderous applause, and Lily turns to give Samantha a hug.
I jog back down to her side, holding the trophy in one hand and her waist in the other.
We watch the trophy presentation until things start to wind down.
I know there will be another roaring celebration complete with goggles and sprays of champagne once we get to the locker room, but first I turn to Samantha.
After planting another firm kiss on her lips, she smiles up at me. “Where are you and the guys gonna go celebrate tonight? I hope someone reserved something epic for you.”
“I’m going to go take a group champagne shower in the locker room,” I say, grinning at Samantha’s eye-rolling laugh. “But I’m not going out with the guys tonight. I’m celebrating with you.”
She gives me a chastising look. “No way. You have to go live it up with your team tonight. We can do something together tomorrow. Go celebrate.”
Placing my hand on the small of her back, I pull her against me with oomph. “You’re not listening, cielo. I don’t want to go out to some club tonight. I want to sit under the stars and hold you in my arms. That’s the celebration I want.”
Samantha blinks rapidly, and I lean down to press a tender kiss to her lips. She sighs into the kiss, then breaks away.
“Just be sure you take a real shower after the champagne shower, menso.” She grins up at me, and I pinch her side before kissing that teasing smile right off her mouth.