The Closer Read online

  Another knuckler to the next batter, a righty. One more pop up. It was Collie Quinn's turn to tackle elements. He was no more successful than his infield mates, all of whom had squandered their chances. Again, the wind imposed, the ball twisting to earth right at his feet. Fortunately, once more, the infield fly rule prevailed. Two on, two outs.

  Terry knew he couldn't succumb to these strange occurrences. He had to maintain concentration. One more batter to get. "Grip, over the top, stiff wrist," he reminded himself.

  He started the next batter with two knucklers in the dirt. He threw a diver for a strike. The batter, another righty, fouled off the next pitch. If Terry hadn't been so focused, he would have marveled at the poetic aspects of the situation. Two balls, two strikes, two outs, two on, a two-run lead.

  The hitter lofted a fly to left field. With the prior results, Terry almost couldn't look. If the wind played tricks on Murdoch, the ball might slip past him, all the way to the wall. Both runners would certainly score. Tying the game. Another blown save. Demotion to follow.

  Murdoch ranged to his right. The ball danced and dipped in the wind, as if it was a knuckleball. Murdoch wobbled briefly, but he stayed with it. His glove was like a magnet, attracting the ball. It landed in the pocket and remained. The game was over, Oakland had won. Terry had his first save in about three weeks.

  After the obligatory postgame handshakes, he jogged toward the left field bullpen, hoping Lauren and the kids were still there. On the way, he crossed paths with Murdoch, who had obviously disdained the handshakes. Murdoch motioned him to stop.

  "Those infield cats," he chastised. "Can't catch nothin' if it hit 'em in the head. All they know is to party."

  Terry laughed.

  "You're a head case yourself," Murdoch went on. "All you gotta do, get 'em hit the ball to me. What I'm there for."

  Terry laughed again. He continued on to the bullpen. Lauren and the kids were still there. Waiting for him? Or simply waiting for the crowd to dissipate, so they could get easily to her car?

  "What a surprise,” Terry greeted them as they stood above him, beyond the wall.

  "Yay, Terry," Tammy shouted down at him.

  "Should've let me know you were coming," he admonished.

  "Didn't want to bother you," Lauren chuckled. "Heard you were...in distress."

  He grinned.

  "Wanted to give you a little inspiration," she added.

  They had certainly done that. In more ways than one. Besides the game, just looking at her now, eyes gleaming down at him. Looking at the kids, obviously happy to be there.

  He would have liked to have gone up in the grandstand right then, uniform and all, and given each of them a big hug.

  "He's got his own life. And they're not so crazy about him, either."

  Right after arriving at Lauren's house, Terry was able to verify the accuracy of her words, spoken weeks ago, about her brother Steven and the kids. It was the final night before the long homestand would end, and she wanted him to meet her brother prior to the next road trip.

  He quickly noticed that, in Steven's presence, the kids were far more restrained than usual. Steven, a gruff chunky man with a beard, obviously many years older than Lauren, seemed very studious and devoted to his profession. He soon made his specialty known—dermatology—and spoke of it several times during the hour or so he was there.

  Once Steven left, Terry happily fulfilled his regular stints in the children's rooms. Tammy was even more gleeful than normal as she showed him some pictures she'd painted at school. And Billy set a record for chattiness in Terry's company, contributing more than two dozen words to their conversation.

  "He's becoming downright talkative," Terry beamed to Lauren afterward, the two of them at their customary stations on her living room couch. "I couldn't get a word in edgewise."

  "I doubt that," she replied, shaking her head.

  "He's doing good, that's the important thing," he commented. "All three kids are doing good. You've done a terrific job..."

  She smiled that wonderful smile again. He loved being on her couch like this with her. He really didn't need anything else. Simply her nearness was enough.

  And yet he couldn't keep from trying to kiss her. Even with the kids close by, making noise in their rooms. Even though she had rebuffed him less than two weeks ago.

  Surprisingly, she let him. And let him kiss her again. And again. Finally, after the fourth kiss, he decided not to push his luck.

  "I'm sorry," he said. "I can't help myself."

  She touched his hand.

  Terry followed up his nice "pop up" performance with another good outing, versus Anaheim again, on the final day of the homestand. Oakland won 3-1. Once more, Lauren and the kids attended, and sat in the same section behind the bullpen. This time, though, Terry knew they were coming, and arranged tickets.

  His good pitching continued throughout the road trip. He converted four consecutive save opportunities. However, unfortunately, the team continued its spotty play, and got thrashed in all five of the other games on the trip.

  The club arrived back in Oakland late Labor Day night, now trailing Texas by eight games, New York by six and a half. With only twenty-five games remaining in the regular season, it was crucial that they develop some positive momentum during the upcoming homestand, or forget any chance for the playoffs.

  Fortunately, their schedule did include the two teams they were chasing. On the next road trip, they had three games in Texas. And at the end of this week, they had four with New York in Oakland.

  A sweep of both series would no doubt propel them right back into contention.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  "What do you think?" Lauren asked right after the middle-aged man and woman left the interview room at the adoption agency.

  "I think they're nice," Terry answered.

  "But would they make good parents?"

  "They've already made good parents," he replied. "Two grown children of their own."

  "I think that's the problem."

  "What?" he questioned, a little puzzled.

  "They're too old."

  He didn't answer right away. The couple had been the fifth he and Lauren had interviewed that morning at the agency located on the ground floor of an old building in downtown San Francisco. All five couples had seemed solid candidates to him. All five had a fault or two, however, according to Lauren.

  "I think," he finally said while they awaited the next interview, "that you're looking for perfection."

  "They're my kids," she replied succinctly, as if no further explanation were needed.

  "Well, I'm far from perfect too," he shrugged. "I guess that makes me as good a candidate as these other people."

  "You're not a candidate," she said straightforwardly.

  "Why not?" he was curious.

  "You couldn't get court approval."

  "Why not?" he was still curious.

  "Very simple," she promptly answered. "You're not married."

  "That's not a proposal, is it?" he winked.

  She looked at him strangely. He winked again. She continued to look at him strangely.

  "Another reason," she finally said. "You're a baseball player..."

  "Bad role model? Better I be a doctor or a lawyer?"

  "It's not that. It's all the time away from home."

  He nodded, shrugged and frowned all at the same time. Probably his mixed responses were because he hadn't intended this discussion and didn't know how to react to it. In truth, he hadn't even given this particular subject much thought.

  "And yet, I can't deny the kids like you," she spoke as if she was no more than thinking out loud. "No question about Billy and Tammy, and even Karen, who can be very picky. I watched her at the circus that time."

  "So I am a candidate."

  "No you're not," she said firmly. "You're not married."

  "You're proposing again," he winked once more.

  Walking toward the drug rehabilitation wing
of the hospital, Terry felt quite content for a couple of reasons. Two hours ago he'd pitched a perfect ninth to close out a 6-4 afternoon victory over Minnesota, and Oakland had swept the series, giving them a perfect start to the homestand, before the important four game confrontation with New York.

  Terry was here because Murdoch had invited him to a little ceremony. Carly had finished the drug program and tonight was her graduation. He reached a lobby outside the drug wing, and saw Murdoch and Carly standing together, chatting. When they noticed him, they both greeted him warmly, Carly with a hug. She wore a stylish tan pantsuit and Terry couldn't help comparing her appearance now with those first days in the hospital.

  "Glad you could come, Uncle Terry," she spoke cheerily.

  "Congratulations, Carly."

  She grinned. So did Murdoch, possibly at her continuing to refer to Terry as her uncle. Carly excused herself to welcome another guest, a young man Terry assumed was a drug program participant.

  "She looks great,” Terry told Murdoch. "Wish you'd let me bring her a gift."

  "No gifts,” Murdoch emphasized, using the same words Terry recalled him using when inviting him. "Want nothing spoiling my little surprise."

  Terry was surprised in the very next instant. Lauren, dressed in a dark slacks and blouse combination, entered the lobby with Billy, Karen and Tammy, also nicely attired. None of his recent conversations with them, the latest occurring just this morning, offered any inkling they'd be here.

  "Why didn't you tell me they were coming?" he asked Murdoch. "That your little surprise?"

  Murdoch's only response was a twinkle in his eye, and to quickly leave the lobby. Lauren and the children came over to Terry, taking turns hugging him.

  When Carly spotted Lauren, she rushed right over, screaming excitedly. More hugs, these accompanied by tears. Tears of obvious joy.

  Lauren introduced her to the kids. Another round of warm hugs.

  "Why didn't you tell me you were coming?" Terry asked Lauren once Carly left them to greet other guests. "I didn't expect you."

  "Shhh. It's all a surprise."

  "On who?"

  "You'll just have to wait and see," she smiled.

  "How long?"

  "Maybe five or ten minutes."

  It actually took only five or ten seconds. Terry noticed Murdoch return to the lobby. He was carrying something in his arms. Something wrapped in a blanket. Was it a baby? No question, it was a baby. As Murdoch came closer, Terry could see a tiny brown face beneath the blanket.

  Suddenly Carly gasped. And rushed to Murdoch. He handed her the baby. As she held it, Lauren went over and hugged her again.

  "Ladies and gentlemen,” Murdoch announced loudly. "I'd like to introduce Joshua, my grandson."

  "So that was Murdoch's little surprise." Terry said to Lauren once she returned to him and the children.

  She grinned.

  "Guess you had plenty to do with it," he added.

  "A little," she smiled, cleverly prolonging the theme.

  "Why didn't you tell me?" he asked her for the second time that evening.

  "Then it wouldn't have been a surprise," she answered teasingly. "Besides, there wasn't much to tell. The baby's adoption fell through. When I heard about it, I was able to arrange a court hearing. And we managed to persuade the judge to give Carly a trial period."

  "Was Murdoch involved?"

  "Very. He flew to Texas for the hearing, and convinced the judge that he would take complete financial responsibility."

  Somewhat miffed all this had happened without his knowledge, Terry didn't reply.

  "It turned out," she said, "that the judge was a baseball fan."

  Murdoch came over as Terry, Lauren and the children stood in a corner of the lobby, sampling food they'd gathered from a buffet cart that had been wheeled in. Terry, still a bit vexed about being kept in the dark, wasn't very cordial to Murdoch. In fact, it was Lauren who introduced him to the children.

  "Funny," Murdoch said. "Couple months ago, wasn't even sure I was a father. Now I'm a grandpa too."

  Terry's vexation diminished substantially in the next few minutes. It almost always did when he was alone with Lauren. In this particular case, the two of them stood off by themselves in a corner of the lobby, simply watching her children interact with Carly and tiny Joshua.

  "You see what I see?" Terry asked.

  "Yes."

  "Sure didn't take them long."

  It certainly hadn't. The three kids had already bonded with Carly and the baby. In fact, Carly let them take turns holding him. And she couldn't keep from affectionately touching Billy, Karen and Tammy.

  About an hour later, when Terry left the hospital with Lauren and the kids, he had completely forgotten his earlier dismay. He found Carly's actual graduation ceremony exhilarating. And the kids, Carly, and Joshua had continued their previous affinity.

  True, he'd been a minor precipitator in the day's occurrences. No question Lauren, Murdoch, and Carly herself had played far more significant roles. But he had definitely been a participant. And that was more than enough for him.

  When Terry entered the game, New York was batting in the top of the ninth. Oakland was leading 9-8, there were two outs, but the bases were loaded. Before the game, Rick had told Terry that he wouldn't be using him tonight (Terry had pitched in the last four games, all Oakland wins, and he had gotten the save in each).

  Obviously, Rick had changed his mind. This game was too important. One more out and Oakland would sweep the four game series against New York and pull within two games of them for the wild card.

  Terry finished his warm-ups and glanced around at all three baserunners. He flexed his right arm. It felt a little tired, like this was his fifth consecutive game. But all he needed was that one single out.

  Jordan, the New York clean-up hitter, stepped into the left hand batters' box. Terry went through his "concentration" reminders. "Proper grip, over the top, stiff wrist." Bailey gave him the sign for the knuckler. Terry fired a good one, a diver, over the outside corner. Strike one.

  He went through the same routine. After glancing at the runner edging off third, he chucked another knuckler. Jordan swung at this one and missed by a wide margin. Terry could tell by his look of frustration that Jordan knew he didn't have a chance. One more good one and the game would be over. Just one more strike.

  Terry flexed his arm again. Bailey flashed the knuckleball sign. Terry fired. Another one that danced and dove. Jordan swung. A mighty swing. And missed by a mile. The plate umpire raised his right arm in what should have been a game-ending motion.

  Except, Bailey missed the ball. It had moved so much that it avoided his glove on its path to the backstop. Jordan ran to first and the runner from third scored easily. Tie game, 9-9.

  A blown save. It was little consolation that Spencer, the next batter, lofted a fly ball to left field. And that Murdoch squeezed it for the final out of the inning. Terry could only shake his head as he trudged to the dugout. And anticipated Murdoch's chastising words, "Hey, head case all you gotta do is get 'em hit the ball to me."

  But, after trotting in from the outfield, Murdoch seemed to have other things on his mind. He was the leadoff batter in the bottom of the ninth.

  Heading to the plate, Murdoch hardly noticed the late-night cold. What he did notice, after being announced by the public address man, was that for the first time in years the cheers sounded louder than the boos. Not that it mattered. He simply noticed.

  He wasn't likely to get anything to hit. Not from a New York pitching staff that had purposely walked him when he threatened DiMaggio's streak. Had purposely walked him throughout this series. Why would they change strategy now, in a game tied 9-9?

  Not that he wouldn't like them to. Give him the chance to extract a little revenge for the cowardly way they'd protected the record. One swing of his bat could help settle that score.

  He glared out toward the mound, at Carrasco, the New York closer. The same Carrasc
o who issued the final walk in New York, the walk that officially ended his hitting streak. Carrasco glared back at him, then fired the first pitch. A fastball directly at Murdoch's head. Same as his final pitch in New York. Dropping quickly to the ground, Murdoch heard the ball whistle just above his left temple. He got up and slowly dusted off his uniform, then glared at Carrasco again.

  Once more, Carrasco glared back. Murdoch knew he would likely throw another head hunter. Certainly it was consistent with the theme. In fact, he might expect three more bean balls.

  Carrasco surprised him. Or perhaps, simply missed his target. Regardless, he threw a fastball, letter high, over the inside corner. Murdoch swung hard. Connected. And sent a towering drive to left field that not only cleared the fence, but the high wall at the rear of the grandstand. A prodigious home run, later calculated at 562 feet.

  Trotting around the bases, Murdoch didn't hear a single boo in the loud ovation.

  Terry had blown the save in the top of the ninth, but he got the win. More importantly, so did Oakland. With less than three weeks left in the regular season, they now trailed New York by only two games.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  "Terry, can we stop for pizza?"

  "No, Tammy. I think we'd better get back and check on your mother."

  Terry's answer seemed to satisfy her. He glanced in the rearview mirror of his car, a different mini-van than last time, and saw Billy and Karen, sitting next to Tammy in the backseat, nodding their agreement. The four of them were driving back from an outdoor concert in Golden Gate Park, San Francisco's diverse cultural complex and sprawling parkland about fifteen minutes from the Rileys. Lauren was to have gone also, but she declined at the last minute, claiming she might be coming down with a cold. Concerned it could be more, Terry had looked at her questioningly, but decided not to probe.

  "Terry..." Karen said. "Billy wants to ask you something."