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Thanks, this talk is really helping me focus, I grumble.Shelby gets up and shows herself out of the locker room.Great, Knox.Just fucking great.I step up to the mound, the roar of the crowd engulfing me.I let it fade into white noise,and it s almost comforting.I m home.This is where I work best.I grind my cleats intothe dust, roll my shoulders and stretch out my wingspan.Unable to help myself, I steala peek at Shelby, easily visible among the sea of people in the friends and family area,because she s the hottest girl there.The rest of the crew turned out to represent too.Nosign of Jackson, but then, that s no surprise.I ignore the clench in my gut.Focus, Knox.Reggie Carson is first up to bat for the enemy.A classic heavy hitter.He tips his batto the scoreboard, playing to the crowd.They roar in response, though not as loud asmy hometeam fans shout back.No way I m delivering this asshole a home run.I throw a blistering speedball downcenter plate.Swing and a miss.I crack my neck, keeping my smile tamped down.Don tget cocky.But Reggie is scowling, clearly pissed now, and I can never resist an angry batter.Hewhiffs the second pitch, and I m grinning now, starting to feel my groove.Starting tofeel like a superhero.That, of course, is a huge mistake.On the third pitch I try to show off, throw itstraight down center easy, just to make him feel bad about what he can t hit.Of course,he catches an edge and lands a direct hit to the middle of the outfield.My guys chaseafter it, but it s one of those skittering, elusive balls that rolls right out of our grip.He makes it to second base by the time the ball s back in my glove.I can feel theglares of the entire team on my back.Shit.The rest of the inning is more of the same.Not the worst throwing I ve ever done,but definitely not one for the history books.The Nationals are up by one at the bottomof the first.I jog over to the dugout and find Mitch tensed and wringing his hands. What sgoing on out there, Knox? Getting my sea legs, Coach.I ll step it up next round. Doesn t sound veryconvincing even to me, but it s the best I ve got. All right. He scrunches up his nose like he doesn t quite believe me. Let me knowif that shoulder starts bothering you again.I wish I could just blame the up-and-down shoulder for this.Sadly, I think it s morethan just a potential injury throwing me off game tonight.As Mitch calls Eddie over totalk through some plays in the remaining minute, I let my eyes drift across the seats toShelby one more time.She s talking to Ruby, distracted, her teeth flashing in a smilethat makes me want to be on the receiving end.What the hell are we doing here?Our last conversation echoes in my memory, but there s no time to worry about itnow.Second inning.Batter up.This round goes sour too, though it s not entirely my fault.My guys fumble a few inthe outfield, until I m stuck with bases loaded and a young hotshot up to bat.I wind upfor a big one.No way I m letting him knock this home.I throw my full firepowerbehind this pitch as I hurl the ball toward the center of the plate.Just as I release theball, I feel it a searing pain in my shoulder and a rip that takes my breath away.I drop to my knees, clutching my shoulder with a gasp.I lift my head just in time tosee all my runners sliding home, one by one.24KNOXTHE PHYSIO, Roger, sprints toward me.Time slows down, each second an eternity.I mhyperconscious of every movement around me, the roar of the crowd buzzing in myears.When I finally stand, leaning between Mitch and Roger, the roar doubles.I try toforce a smile for them, let the fans know I m okay, but it comes out more like a wincethan anything reassuring.The blinding pain in my shoulder and the tingling numbness in my fingers tell methat this could be it.The big one.Shoulder injuries can be career-enders, even forpitchers ten years younger than me.I grit my teeth as Roger leans over me in the pit. Wiggle your fingers, he says.I manage to lift my pinky before I m gasping in shock again, doubled over, andMitch doubles down on the ice at my shoulder.Roger and Mitch exchange a look. Emergency ortho, Roger says, and Mitch justnods, all the while signaling to our backup to get in the game.Roger s attention is backon me then, snapping his fingers to pull me out of the haze of pain and into the present. We need to get your shoulder scanned right away, Cooper. I should ve known, I hiss through gritted teeth. I knew it was acting up, Ishould ve. I trail off as another wave of pain wracks me.He s shaking his head. These things just happen, Knox.It s not your fault.It s noone s fault.But I shake my head back at him.Yes it is.It s my fault, and now I m going to paythe ultimate price. I m afraid the news isn t good.It looks like the tendon inside your rotator cuff hascompletely torn away from the humerus the bone that runs through your bicep andconnects into the shoulder socket.I stare uncomprehendingly at the doctor as he lowers his pointer from a backlit slidethat illustrates exactly how fucked I am.The effect of repeated stress, a common injury among pitchers.Nothing I don tknow.But he seems to be waiting for my response.Like there s any other reply I cangive right now beyond wordless screaming.I clear my throat. What s the plan, doc? We ll need to schedule a surgery.I tune out then.Roger s in with me, thank god.Asking all the questions you should,when a doctor tells you that you ll need to undergo an invasive, dangerous procedureto fix yourself.Me, I m done.I slump back in my seat and stare at the ceiling, doing themath.The treatment for a torn rotator cuff is arthroscopic surgery.Between healing afterthe surgery and rehab after that, I ll be out six months, minimum.An entire season,more or less.Worse, I ve seen this surgery before.More times than I can count.Some pitchersmake it back up to the mound, true.But more of them don t.And even the ones whoheal enough to get back to the game almost never recover their pre-injury speed.My contract prohibits the team from dropping me on account of an injury, at leastuntil I m back on the field and we see if I can pull out of it.But that s the least of myconcerns [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]