Knuckleballer, Part 3

“Look, we haven’t even reached the All-Star Break. Take your time. I don’t want you back until you’re healthy,” Ben Kemp, the Knights manager, told her.

Riley wanted to punch something. Her wrist felt fine. She was lucky she got hurt early in the season, and she was well aware of it. Getting back in the game, however, was going to get more difficult for each start she missed.

“I’m going nuts here,” she countered. “If I don’t see some action, I’m gonna start climbing walls.”

Ben slapped his hands on the paper-covered desk. The sound was muffled, but it was loud enough to startle Riley.

“You are going to Ohio for rehab. They got a good catcher from the Double-A that will take the knuckleballs. We’ve been looking at matching him up to you anyway. Get a few starts and try it out—after Sam clears you for that knuckler.”

Riley clenched her fists. Her left wrist tightened where the screws held it together.

“Thanks a bunch, Skipper.”

She stalked out of his office. Outside the locker room door, she paused. Pulsing rock music tickled the bottoms of her feet as she inhaled of whiff of sweaty socks and talc. The guys would want to see her before she flew to Ohio.

At the far end of the otherwise empty concourse, she saw players filing in to the visitors’ locker rooms. She started to turn away when a familiar face got her attention.

“Burr!” she yelled. She knew he’d been traded after the pitch that stole a chunk of the season from her. Here he was, big as life with his new team. “Burr, you jackass!”

The pitcher slowed his stride long enough to get a look at her in her street clothes and sneered.

“Hey, if it ain’t little Riley-girl,” he jeered. “Can’t take the heat of playing with the big boys?”

Breathing popcorn and beer fumes through her nostrils, she marched in his direction. His new teammates kept their distance as they watched how the confrontation would play out.

“You’re a pond scum-sucking rat who shouldn’t be allowed out of its cage,” she barked. “When I get back out there, everybody will forget you ever pitched to me.”

Burr wiggled his fingers in mock horror. “Ooh, you got me pissin’ my pants. I better watch out.”

“What the hell is going on here?”

Ben Kemp ran toward Riley and Burr. Less than five seconds later, half her team showed up behind him.

“Nothing,” she said. She knew her gritted teeth and narrowed eyes told a different story. “We were just discussing techniques—you know, like the difference between a great pitcher and someone who’s only mediocre.”

Burr’s face turned burgundy. He looked ready to say something, but he was herded away as his manager stormed up to Ben.

“She’s a hothead, Kemp. She keeps mouthing off like that, and she’ll find herself out on her ass.”

“Is that a threat, Tony?”

“It is what it is. My guys deal with more than enough. They don’t need a hysterical girl distracting them.”

Riley opened her mouth, but Kemp stopped her with a glare.

“My pitcher will do what’s necessary for this team. That’s all you need to know.”

Riley grumbled an impressive chain of obscenities that the opposing manager couldn’t hear. Some of her teammates did, however. When the other guys retreated to the locker room, the first-baseman stayed back and snagged Riley by her good arm.

“Tim, let go,” she ordered.

“In a minute.”

He pulled her out to the box seats above their dugout. Guys were beginning their pregame stretching on the field.

“See those men?” he barked. She nodded, unsure where this was leading. “That’s your team, and they’re relying on you to get back in one piece.”

“That’s the plan. I’m working my ass off so I can get back on the roster. What more do you want?”

Tim rounded on her. “If you go picking fights, it’s going to get you in trouble. You’re too classy for that shit.”

She shook him off. “And I’m supposed to let people walk all over me? I’ve worked too hard for that.”

Ben yelled up at Tim from the field. Fans were starting to trickle in for the game and to watch batting practice.

“I don’t have time for this,” Tim told her. “I’ll just say that it’d be a damn shame if you sink your career by doing something stupid. There’s a lot of idiots who’d love nothing more than to see you fail.”

“I’ll be fine.”

“I hope so. But you have to get that arm healthy and be better than ever. Stow the attitude, too. It doesn’t fit.”

Excited chatter halted the speech, and Riley was grateful. Signing a few autographs and getting out of there sounded a lot better than getting lectured.

“Get us some runs,” she said. “I’ll call you.”

Tim nodded and trotted down to the top of the dugout, where he hopped off the roof. Riley heard at least two coaches yell at him as he joined the rest of the team. Once she was free of him, she signed a few balls and jerseys then slipped away from the growing pregame crowd.

She would’ve liked to stay and support the guys, but an assignment waited for her in Ohio.

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…to be continued

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