2065.03 – First Pitch of Spring Training

[R.Umali]

February 2065. Seventy-two degrees and cloudless at Spring Ballpark; fifteen and black-snow gray in Ravenswood. Baseball fans are lucky: spring comes at least twice, and sometimes it comes in the ass-end of winter.

Decorah treated herself to a McAdams Pils and lifted the bottle toward the ceiling as Orlando Rúbio wound and fired the first pitch of the Black Sox spring. Strike one to Guillermo León of the San Fernando Bears.

“Yes!” All signs pointed to a 162–0 season.

Rúbio then walked him without León lifting the bat. No matter. It’s the first pitch that sets the luck line, right? Not the first at-bat.

She sat and slid half an eye back to her work screen. Technically still on the clock.

Rúbio's fighting for a rotation slot after acing setup duty last year: 48 games, 99 IP, 3.82 ERA, 1.08 WHIP—career highs. 6 holds. With Carlos Moya gone, someone has to step up. Rúbio's the fave, but Manuel Ramos, Kullervo Almila, and Tolya Shiller are in the mix. Decorah loves Rubio, but the taciturn Russian Tolya owns a corner of her heart. Tolya was on the mound for that 17-inning ticket-puncher in Portland two years back. She expected that he'd at least be a swingman or something with the Black Sox but then he spent most of last year grinding another 200 innings in Rockford.

Top half over. The Sox were up. Dave Matthes leading off? She can get with that. First-pitch flyout. Jeff Feagin next; wouldn’t hate him in the two-hole. First pitch, gone. Decorah raised her beer: “Gonna hit sixty.”

Jesús Suárez jumped the first pitch also and rolled out. Suárez was acquired via trade (for Todd Tatlock) from Nashville a few years ago, and now Suárez was on the bubble for the 4th outfielder spot.

The clean-up batter Tony Cochran also swung at the first-pitch. Clean single. Everyone’s itchy.

Batting fifth: the kid catcher “Patches” Norihisa Kobayashi. Mashed Double-A Peoria (26 HR in 117 G) but a long shot for Opening Day at nineteen years old. He swung through the first pitch, then struck out.

Decorah loves a fat spring roster: the more names, the fewer starter hexes. With Dale Olds out, backup C feels like Rahimat Sulayman vs. Harry Summers; her chips are on Rahimat.

The game idled into background music although she gave her full attention when 5-time All-Star Steveland Morris came in as a pinch-hitter in the 6th. He flew out and then spent the rest of the game at short.

The Bears plated two in the fifth on a Jason Steward double; 3–2 Sox into the ninth. Instead of Nakamaro Hori or Augusto Ayala, out came Bobby “Fang” Sherman, prodigal son. Seven seasons of rough lines in Chicago (13–36, 5-plus ERA), but he always wore the brave face. The city remembered.

First pitch: called strike to Harrison Dundon, aka “Law & Order. Fly out. Next, lefty John Lazar. Strikeout. Decorah leaned in, allowing spring’s delusion to bloom: Could Fang close?

Bobby Sherman reached for the ball, then grabbed the back of his right leg. Hamstring. The trainer trots out and soon Sherman is walking off the field.

What was his contract? $1.4M?

Decorah raised her bottle in salute and took the last pull but it was already empty.