Page 44 of Out of Left Field

Eli’s dad stood beside us, smiling. “I can’t believe I’m standing here,” he murmured more than once.

Which made Eli even happier. On the television screens the team’s field reporter, Alyssa May, began a story about Isaac.

“This special moment was captured just a few days ago.” She narrated cell phone footage of the spring training dugout. “Team Manager Isaac Anson called pitcher Alex Anderson into the dugout. And while the young pitcher expected to receive instructions from the team leader, something very different happened.”

Muffled audio played with captions appearing at the bottom of the screen. “Hey,” Isaac said, “I just wanted to let you know you’ve made the opening day roster.”

Alex’s jaw dropped open and he stood frozen until Isaac clapped him on the back.

“The shocked, hard-throwing, pitcher drops to the bench in shock, holding his head in his hands as he becomes visibly overwhelmed. That’s when the team rolled in,” Alyssa narrated. On the screen the team flooded the dugout and surrounded Alex in a group hug. “That’s the team the Tampa Bay area fell in love with, and while this season is certainly bringing change, I don’t expect that love to change any time soon.”

The TV flashed to the hosts who both wore Mantas blue pirate hats and beads. Bob Hughes spoke first. “That’s right, Alyssa. In fact fans are showing love for the new team manager by joining in the pirate spirit.”

The other host, J.D. Smith laughed. “Gasparilla was only a few weeks ago, and it looks like everyone kept their beads handy.”

Every year they celebrated Tampa Bay’s mostly imaginary pirate past with Gasparilla. From Pirate Invasion to the parade, the area celebrated with the same enthusiasm as Mardi Gras. Boats, beads, and plenty of booze. And sure enough, a lot of those same beads and costumes could be seen throughout the packed crowd below us.

The marketing department was beside themselves with how quickly the fans adopted the idea of Captain Anson and his pirate krewe. The Captain Anson bobblehead was happening whether Isaac wanted it or not.

Personally, I was thrilled with the early mockup I saw this morning when I visited the department. Not only did it rally the team from the disjointed start of spring training, but it helped the fanbase alter course. This wasn’t the team that won it all. This was a new era.

And it all started now.

The music cut and the announcer's voice filled the stadium as he began introducing the teams. When Isaac stepped out onto the field he waved to the team first, then at the stands. His brother came running over and gave him a hug, with a little girl in tow.

Rosie.

Isaac swung her up into his arms even though she was probably too big for something like that anymore. She beamed up at her dad. She looked so much like Isaac, but also very different. Her face was more angular and her smile was different. But that glimmer in her eyes? All Isaac. He set her down and took her hand. They both waved at the packed crowd and, just as I thought they were about to return to the dugout, he shielded his eyes, looking up the stands. No, up at the suites.

I raised my hand and waved, my heart pounding in my chest. Was he looking for me or was I imagining things? But then he saw me, grinned, and waved back.

It was entirely possible I might choke on my own beating heart. The combination of excitement and arousal damn near made me faint.

Eli cleared his throat. “Something you want to share with me, Dr. James?” His eyes danced as I squirmed.

At least he wasn’t upset. “I might be enjoying getting to know your manager.”

“Interesting,” he murmured. “Seems like you might take me up on this job offer after all.”

15

Isaac

“Everett’s good to go,” Gordo said, hanging up the bullpen phone.

“He’s sure?” With my little brother in the mix, I let Diaz make the call on whether it should be Everett or Luis. Maybe after a few weeks, after we all got used to the chemistry, I would feel more comfortable relying on my brother to get us out of a jam without worrying what everyone else thought.

Did I want Ev in the game? Yes. Because I knew he was reliable. Was my opinion of Everett’s pitches overinflated? I didn’t think so, but I couldn’t be sure. I gave Gordo a nod and popped up out of the dugout, hand in the air, signaling the pitching change.

I held out my hand for the ball as I approached the mound. Yates scowled at me, mad that I was pulling him. “You did good. Let us take it from here.”

He didn’t let go. “Let me finish the inning.”

I understood. The two men on base were his responsibility. He put them there. If they scored runs it would be on his record. Letting a different pitcher take over meant losing control over what happened. “Your arm is done. You haven’t thrown a strike in ten pitches. We need you healthy.”

He scowled and then dropped the ball into my hand. “Fine.”

I gave his shoulder a pat as he walked away even though he was angry and would be for a little while. While Ev jogged out from the bullpen Hunter and Erik discussed fielding options and responsibilities with men on base.