The Third Floor | Moon the Color of Ember (55.18)

[mragland]

9.05.2055 – Unincorporated Los Angeles County

Marwa is a bit hoarse, but she does her best to scream. How can you not? It is a feeling of pure elation, watching the center fielder trot around the bases. The fireworks going off above the outfield bleachers, the team pouring out of the dugout, the ecstatic crowd on its feet. This is why you come out. This right here, right now.

It had been exhausting. Thirteen innings. She wouldn't get home until after midnight, but lack of sleep would be tomorrow's problem. The whole office would be tired but cheerful tomorrow. There hadn't been enough of that mood this year. She looked forward to it.

The game had felt important, a win was needed not just to even the series, but to steer the ship back on its proper course. The atmosphere this night was in such contrast to just two months previous, when the club played in front of a half empty stadium of grumpy fans willing and eager to voice their displeasure at the slightest miscue or perceived lack of hustle. Now they played in front a very nearly full stadium of happy and hopeful fans eager and willing to cheer the team on.

Kapkin approaches home plate now, the din of the crowd reaching its peak, his teammates jumping up and down like schoolboys. A reminder, thinks Marwa, that this is a children's game after all, played by children now grown, but who nevertheless keep the joys of childhood in their hearts. This team, the whole organization, had been so far down this season, it now felt like being on top of the world, even though they would still be ten wins away from a mere even record after Kapkin stomped on home plate with both feet, his head bare after gleefully tossing his helmet into the air.

This is why we love this silly game, thinks Marwa. How can you not?

Koray Kapkin is a Turkish, rookie outfielder who doesn't play center particularly well, but has been hitting well enough to find his way into the lineup now and then, particularly on nights when the opponent starts a left-handed pitcher. He is quiet and reserved, usually, but now he is boisterous. His given name, Koray, is a compound. 'Kor' meaning 'ember', and 'Ay' meaning 'moon'. Marwa reflects on the occasional poetry of names as she leaves for home, alone.