Chapter Twenty Three

Baseball lasts for six months of the year, not counting the playoffs. After the first month, every game begins to look the same as the game before, they all blur together into one large collage of runs, errors, wins and losses. Then, before anyone realizes it, September looms on the horizon and the pennant race begins in earnest.

Although the Mariners had gotten off to a slow start, they had evened out nicely, and were keeping pace with and occasionally gaining a game on the division leading Oakland Athletics. Nick was back to his rookie of the year form, tearing the cover off the ball, although his off-field attitude had improved slightly. No one was sure if it was because he had matured, or if it was the fact he wasn't in New York, but Nick hadn't smarted off to a reporter since the beginning of May.

Howie Dorough was off to a career year start. He was with the league leaders in hitting, and for once in his life, was actually fielding balls that were hit to him. Everyone following the Mariners were shocked by this turn of events, and none more so than Howie himself. His wide, toothy grin had been on his face more than usual the last few weeks. If he kept this pace up for the rest of the season, he stood a good chance in the MVP standings, and the Mariners stood a good chance of making the playoffs.

Still, it was only the beginning of June, and several months too soon to make any sort of logical predications regarding the outcome of the pennant races. The Mariners were playing the Blue Jays in Toronto, two games away from wrapping up their second longest road trip.

Stacy was sitting in the middle of her living room couch, a bag of pretzels open next to her, watching the Mariners slaughter the Blue Jays rookie pitcher. It was the second inning, and the Mariners were up 12-0. There was no point to watching the game for the suspense, so Stacy was now watching just for Nick. He was on first base, skipping back to the bag every few moments, as the pitcher, rattled by the amount of runs he had already given up, kept throwing over to first in an attempt to stop Nick from stealing.

The television camera cut from the scowl on the young pitcher's face to Nick, who had taken a large lead yet again, and was staring in at the plate in concentration, his tongue clamped between his teeth, just the tip of it sticking out.

Stacy couldn't help but smile. It didn't matter what he was doing, as soon as Nick's brain focused, the tongue appeared. It was one of his more endearing little quirks. Managing to completely untuck every sheet and blanket on the bed in the middle of the night was not one of his better qualities. Stacy pursed her lips and concentrated on the TV again. Her mind was heading places it was better off staying out of.

On the field, left fielder Terrance Davis smacked a hit into left field, the ball bouncing sharply on the blue/green Astroturf at the SkyDome. Nick rounded second and charged head on into third base, literally belly-flopping on top of the bag.

"That one had to hurt." The TV announcer said in amusement, as they replayed Nick's attempt at sliding, before panning to the Mariners dugout. Brian was standing on the top step, yelling at the field as loudly as he could. Everyone else was either laughing or smiling, even Kevin, who had a small smirk on his face.

Nick was standing on top of third base, bent over with his hands on his knees. The camera clearly caught his response as he straightened up. "Ow!"

"They're not going to let him forget that one for a while." The announcer finished, as the Blue Jay's pitcher finally recorded another out, and Kevin started for the plate.



Becky carefully stirred the milk in her cereal bowl, watching as the little red Crunch Berries turned her milk pink. It was a very quiet morning. Her parents had been at a party the night before and Brian had come over to baby-sit. He was still asleep on the living room couch - Becky had checked very carefully, before pouring her bowl of Captain Crunch.

Her parents were still sleeping too. Becky knew that they never woke up before noon if they had gone to any semblance of a social function the night before. Her father had probably had too much to drink, as he normally did. Becky was slightly disappointed they had come home after she had fallen asleep. Her daddy could be pretty funny sometimes.

"Holy cow." Brian muttered as he came in the kitchen, both arms up in front of his face to shield the sunlight streaming through the window over the kitchen sink.

"Good morning." Becky said, calmly stirring her pink milk.

"I have the headache from hell." Brian announced, resting his head on the fridge door.

"Don't swear in front of children." Becky said primly, giving up on her milk and carrying her bowl to the sink. There was nothing her father hated worse than waking up with a hangover and finding a dirty cereal bowl on the kitchen table.

"I wasn't swearing." Brian corrected. "I honestly meant it came from hell." He straightened up, still squinting at the light, and patted Becky on the top of her head. "I'm going home. If there's a fire or something, drag your parents outside, 'kay?"

"Okay." Becky said doubtfully, not entirely sure how she was expected to move either of her parents. Luckily, the chances of a fire were very slim. Her father did routine safety checks to assure the risk of fire was kept to a minimum. Of course, then her mother would do something unpredictable and leave a roll of paper towels on the kitchen stove. Maybe Becky should come up with a safety plan in case of fire.

"What are y'all staring at?" Brian waved his hand in front of Becky's face. "Help me find my keys."

"Daddy put them in the drawer so you wouldn't lose them." Becky opened the catch-all drawer at the end of the counter and handed Brian his keys.

"If he would just leave my stuff alone..." Brian grumbled. "I knew exactly where they were before he moved them..." Brian disappeared towards the front door, mumbling about couch cushions.

"Get better soon, Brian!" Becky called after him cheerfully.

The front door banged shut. Becky sighed. It was going to be a long boring morning if this kept up. She knelt on her chair and pulled a piece of paper and her crayon box towards her. Brian let her keep her art supplies on the table overnight. Her father would have made her put them away in the closet.

Becky carefully selected her best black crayon and carefully started drawing a floor plan of the house. She was almost finished outlining the first floor when she heard water running upstairs. That meant her mother was awake. That was good - now Becky would hear if her father had done anything silly last night.

"Good morning." Becky said calmly, as her mother bounced into the kitchen, wearing sweatpants and one of Kevin's t-shirts. "Oh, how cute!" Karen squealed, looking over Becky's shoulder at her drawing. "It's a house, right, sweetie?"

"Yes." Becky said solemnly. "I think we need a fire escape plan."

"It's probably a good idea." Karen agreed absently. "You should hang it on the fridge when you're done. Where's Brian?"

"He went home because he had a headache." Becky set aside the first floor and started work on the second.

"Oooh... that reminds me." Karen winced. "It's Sunday. Your father has to be at the ballpark in two hours."

"That means you have to wake him up." Becky finished.

"At times like these, I begin to wonder why I married him." Karen said thoughtfully.

"I thought you married him because he was a hot, sexy hunk." Becky said reproachfully. That was what her mother had always said before.

"Shhhhhh!" Karen waved her arms in the air. "Do you have to repeat EVERYTHING I say?"