"EXTRA BASEBALL!" I yelled at the top of my lungs as I caught the ball in left for the final out of the 9th inning; as I reached the infield, I chucked the ball near the rubber of the mound, and it rolled across and found the where the grass begins.  The crowd, a few hundred folks for a pickup game, which I still couldn't believe there were so many, was a din of boos and murmurs as thankfully my team escaped the jam, tied 6-6.  They flooded the bleachers and many who couldn't find seats there came with blankets to put in the grass near the fences.  It amazed me that Angi, my rival and opposing team captain, was able to find so many to not only show up, but cheer against us; then again, we are playing on 'her' field, my team of guys against her team of women.  I jogged in, joined the rest of my team in the visitors dugout and breathed a sigh of relief.  Now we were moving on to the 10th.

"This shouldn't have happened," said Ron, hands aside his stocky hips shaking his head lamentingly, glove pinned under his arm, wringing his hands in frustration.  "I left my first pitch up, and she nailed it!"  The 'she' Ron referred to was Alicia, their black power-hitting right fielder, having a monster day with 3 hits and 4 RBIs, including, just before, the game tying homerun in the bottom of the 9th.  That sent the crowd of a few hundred into bedlam, because we had come back to take the lead in the late innings.  What's more is that there was no doubt; she absolutely crushed his first offering deep over the fence in left, and when I saw the ball fly hit I didn't even move, because I knew it was history.


Ron, dark hair, dark eyes, 5'10" or so was brought on to close the 9th with us holding a 6-5 lead.  Truth is, I wouldn't have wanted anyone else in there to try and win it for us, as he is probably our hardest thrower, but, these things happen, and thus we keep playing.


I walked over, grinned at him, and simply said, "Don't worry about it; we'll win this..."  I looked more confident saying that than I actually was though; on the fringes of my thoughts were those impending feelings of doom.  I shook them off from time to time, yet still they encroached.  I only hoped that somehow we'd win the day with this seesaw battle.


I shot a glance over to the girls' dugout, the home team.  It was all positive, high fives and small cheers abound, and at this point they had all the momentum.  In the middle of that throng was, of course, Angi, with half of her catching gear on.  Right as she double fived her teammate, Kelly, up high, she stared across the field, into our dugout.  I looked over as I was done addressing everyone for the moment and our eyes met.  We locked gazes for a good second or two, and she returned mine with a mischievous little smirk.  Her dark blue eyes, part of a cute face with smaller features framed by flame red hair made me space for just a moment.


Then something odd happened.


I could feel my eyes get wide at the sight of it... or what I thought I saw anyway.  We were but 50 feet apart in opposite dugouts, but I could swear I saw her eyes glow at me.  It was only for a split second, but it couldn't be the sun because it was lower in the sky behind their dugout, so they were all in shade.  She continued to hold that smirk, and I couldn't help but reaffirm how attractive she was to me even though today she was the enemy.  I had to think, though, that there was something strange about all of this, but there was no way I could relay to everyone what I just saw; they'd think I'd gone daft, and this late in the game, why generate such diversions.


Angi wasn't a thin girl as she did have a little extra weight, but she was also a great athlete, and while a bit pale being fair, she was quite toned to boot.  She had hit the ball hard today so far, but had nothing to show for it in 3 at bats; it was a little jarring with each shot, and equally relieving when they were all outs.


 She had, however, gunned down 2 of our base stealers, so she was no joke.  My brief fascination was interrupted by Ron, and it was probably better for that; she was soon joined by several of her team, looking over at our dugout like predators that could smell fear.


"Who's up, Clark?"


I turned to Ron, then looked around at everyone else.  To be honest, everyone looked a little down, and a few looked like they wanted to go home, but I wasn't about to let this attitude prevail.  The time to lift everyone's spirits was now, and that fell to me.


"Listen up guys; they're just delaying the inevitable.  Let's score some and get it done in 10.  Don't let any of them believe they can come back and win this, because..."  I paused for words, if only for a few seconds, but what seemed like an eternity in conversation, and the team looking at me expectantly to finish the thought.  I began to pace the dugout.


"...well...do you really want to face the music knowing they beat us?  So let's finish and win.  I'm tired, I'm hot, and I want to end it too."  I remained upbeat with a sly grin, trying to instill the same swagger in everyone else.


"Anthony, Ron, me, next 3 in the order; Ant, get a bat, Ron in the circle."  I sighed, realizing that between the 3 of us, there was a total of 1 hit.  Somebody was going to have to change that pattern.


Anthony, rail thin beanpole he was, led off the inning.  The opposition also changed pitchers for this and brought in that girl Kelly.  Average height, stocky frame, but very busty, and had her shoulder length brown hair in a simple short pony tail.  I also noticed she was throwing harder than the other 3 girls had all day.  She made short work of Anthony, as he was down swinging in 4 pitches, and he pounded the dirt with the bat in frustration back to the dugout.  I didn't get any sound from his outburst, but it looked like he swore, and the cheer of the crowd easily overwhelmed that.


I took his bat (he uses my favorite, the moniker on it is "Black Magic") and prepped swings in the on deck circle.  I watched Ron take on Kelly.  Ron hung in there; 8 pitches later, he hit a scorcher to the hole at shortstop.  I had to marvel at the girl, Abby, playing short; she dove to her right, snared it right before the grass, got up and fired it across to get him by half a step.  It was a horrible break indeed, because he did everything he could, and he just happened to hit it to the tallest girl on the team, who had to use every inch of her 6 foot 1 stature to fully extend and stop the ball from reaching the outfield; in the end, she made a great play, and there were two outs, and the damn crowd roared louder.
Bat standing vertical, hand on top, I crouched in the circle, closed my eyes tightly, scrunched my face, heaved a heavy sigh, stood up and approached the batter's box.


 My good friend Frank, hitting 5th in the order, waited on deck.  I was cleanup today.


The pressure was on me to keep the inning alive in some way; coax a walk, slap a single, whatever; I just wanted to get on base more than anything at this point.  It'd been a tough day for me so far also.  Other than the single I beat out I'd struck out twice, both looking; personally I think the ump's call zone was a little big, but you can't argue these things or they'll throw you the hell out.  Besides, I always find 'Strike 3 Called' to be somewhat humiliating, because I have that nagging feeling in my head that I should have done something, like maybe swung at the damn thing.


Kelly got set to throw her first pitch.  I swung at it and caught air, of course, grabbed the barrel of the bat in my left hand in disgust as the ump stated... "Strike One."  The crowd cheered, it seemed, a bit louder this time around; as the captain of the visiting team, I guess I'm the 'main villain,' so if it seemed to me they wanted my demise a little more in my at bats, that's probably a good reason why.  The crowd jeers more, I guess, if they know exactly who to jeer.


Kelly threw her second pitch.  I hammered it and had a great feeling... that is, until I looked up and saw where it was going; foul, down the right field line by about 30 feet, landing in the side grass harmlessly out of play.  I shook my head, because she had made a mistake and totally gotten away with it.  I jumped on it faster a new trampoline for the first time and my over eagerness disrupted the timing of my swing; she had all the momentum, and the crowd, of course, because they cheered for the 0-2 count.
"Two quick strikes, baseball star! I can see you're getting tired.  How much more ya got?"  This rhetoric had been going on all game.  Those words, followed by a giggle, came from behind me as I was about to step into the box.  It was Angi of course.  I rolled my eyes and turned back to look at her with her mask on looking up at me smiling.  I shook my head side to side at her equally smiling, except this time nothing strange happened; I dismissed the incident at that moment to weariness.


"Just keep quiet and catch like you're supposed to," I said, glaring at her smugly.  "Don't be shit talking now.  At least I have a hit, and why do you keep calling me that?"


"For now, Clark, for now; just don't lose the game, or you know wha-at." She mused in a sing-song manner.  Truth is, I knew exactly 'what,' and by this time I was zoned in awaiting Kelly's next offering.  At this point the crowd wanted the inning over, so they were cheering before the pitch was thrown, then hushed immediately as it hit the dirt near the plate, and Angi had to block it from getting away.  She tossed it back and resumed her chatter.


"Of course, she's gonna have to throw better than that if she wants to get you out, hahaha."  I ignored it and set up again in the box.  I started to really concentrate and thought about the situation.  I bat left, she throws right, so the opposite situation favors me.  She was still ahead a ball and two strikes, but she couldn't risk throwing too much more garbage because that would even the count.  I dug in and waited.  The crowd noise had picked up again, eagerly anticipating an out.  Kelly set, and delivered, and I swung at what I saw... and it sounded like a pretty good knock.


The ball started to carry down the right field line, heading toward the corner of the fence and the foul pole.  I started to jog down the first base line watching intently, hoping against hope it stayed on the fair side of the line and it might have been deep enough.  Alicia gave chase approaching the corner, looking up, glove up, alternating like that between taking a few steps and moving her head.


I then saw the sign I was looking for.  Her glove came down, and her head turned to look behind.  She was against the fence, which was only a little taller than she was (about 6 feet), and the foul pole was within reach.  Seconds after, the ball landed in the grass behind the fence, a scant two feet or so fair, and far enough away


from Alicia that she couldn't jump to get it.  This was right before I got to first base.  The feeling and adrenaline surged upon seeing that, and my left arm went up in the air triumphantly with a fist pump as I rounded the bag celebrating a solo homerun with a loud and pronounced "woooooooo, YEAHHHH!!!" 


The only cheers when that ball cleared the fence were from my dugout as they all celebrated the instant lead.  The greater crowd was pretty quiet, as the home team was on the short end of the scoreboard.  I touched the rest of them and came back to high fives, pats on the back, yelling and the like, and  I was happy to be able to contribute so meaningfully after what was mostly a frustrating day.


We now led 7-6 and were just 3 outs away from winning this game.


Though as I touched home plate, there she was, Angi, again with a smug smile on her face.  It's funny because the turn of events left her seemingly largely unfazed.  I had the feeling that she almost knew something I didn't, like suddenly the hit wouldn't count or something.


"Nice hit, baseball star," she said with a grin.  "Think your lead will hold?  Hahaha, we got you where we want you now."  And she looked at me, trying to goad a reaction, but instead she received a rather stoic reply.
"There's that name again," I replied, looking directly at her.  "I'm no star," I said, shaking my head as I turned to head to the dugout.


She continued, calling after me.  "Better hope no one reaches, otherwise I'm up, and you can't hold me down forever!"  She then threw the replacement ball back to Kelly, and the inning resumed.


It was then that Frank stepped in the box to bat.  Kelly got him on the next pitch, a check swing ground ball to 3rd; Tabitha, a short brunette, threw him out easily, and we were done batting.


We began to get ready for the field again, when I noticed Ron crouching down holding his arm, wincing in pain.  I walked over and immediately asked what was up.


"What's wrong dude?" I asked incredulously, hoping that whatever it was would somehow not be as debilitating as it seemed and somehow magically go away.  My hope, however, was not rewarded.


"It's my arm...gah...it's cramped up and doesn't want to go away."  He went to try and move it and winced some more.  Of all unfortunate things to happen, right now, extra innings, close game, and the guy who's supposed to shut the door is suddenly unable.


I closed my eyes and put my middle finger and thumb on my temples massaging them.  I didn't think it would come to this, but the possibility existed.  The feeling filled me with impending dread, but who else was going to do it.  Most of the guys on the team didn't want to or know how to pitch, other than lobbing up batting practice pitches which would lose it for us for sure.  I would have to save the game; I would have to be the one to get 3 outs for us to win.  3 outs, don't give up any runs.


"Hope ya have your best stuff," he said weakly, trying to massage his arm while doing so.  "I'm done throwing, dude, this isn't getting any better."  He then started  jogging out to left field, replacing me.  I shrugged and contemplated the situation.  I don't throw hard, but I have one thing working for me.  When I do it right, I can throw a pretty good knuckleball; I only hoped it would flutter enough to have them waving through it, and often enough to last one final scoreless inning.