Garrett wets his lips. “Davies gives us his trademark wink as he sinks into his stance.”
There’s a whiz of the ball leaving the pitcher’s hand and then a solid crack.
Garrett stands so fast, the stool overturns and crashes behind him. “That’s going deep—it’s over the head of Brewster in left field,” he cries. “Cooper is in to second base with a stand up double!”
I’m on my feet, right next to him. “He hit that fast ball right on the screws!”
“The guys in the dugout are going crazy.” Garrett pauses so the outdoor mic can pick up all the cheers. “The Lions coach is coming out to the mound. Looks like a pitching change.”
I nod even though the audience can’t see. “You can’t blame that one on the Lions’ pitcher. He hit his spot, but Cooper Davies went after it and crushed that ball.”
“By the way,” Garrett says, “sorry about that crash, folks. That was my stool doing a cartwheel.” He rights it, and we both sit again.
“That was…wow good,” I say.
“Ridiculous good.”
“Stupid good.”
Our adjectives are rapid-fire, and I love how in tune we are with each other—how I don’t always know where he’s headed but I can jump in and we find a way to play off each other. According to Scottie, the number of listeners for our broadcast has tripled in the past week alone, even with a couple of clunker sessions. Everyone is asking for more.
Normally, when we go to a pitching change, Garrett turns off the mic. But he leaves it on now, and I know we’re in for more fun. “Crazy good,” he says, keeping it going.
“Oh my good,” I add.
“That’s how the late, great Dick Enberg would have called it.” He puts a hand over his heart in respect. “For those of you who know your broadcast legends, you know that was his signature line.”
“Why don’t we have a signature line?” I ask. “We’re great.”
He laughs into his mic. “You’re right, Walters. We need a catchphrase. How are we going to be legends without one?”
“Oh, so now we’re legends?” My grin is a match for his.
“As soon as we come up with a phrase, we are. Stuart Scott had boo-yah, Chris Berman had He could go all the way, and Walt Frazier’s was Posting and Toasting.”
“Really? I thought that was Dr. Seuss.”
I wish the audience could see Garrett’s smile. “Clever, Walters. Now apply that thinking to a catchphrase.”
“I’ll put it on my to-do list, right after ‘call the game.’” Laughing, I point to the field where the new pitcher has finished warming up. Garrett quickly runs through his stats while Anthony strides to the batter’s box.
Behind the fence, I see Mai sitting with fingers crossed. Inside her black leather lace-ups, I’m guessing her toes are crossed, too.
All business now, Garrett says, “First pitch is a ball, low and outside.” He’s got his fingers gripped under his chin, his elbows resting on the counter.
I copy his position so that my elbow touches his. He nudges me back and turns my insides into melted butter. We’re connected like that when the next pitch comes in. Garrett stiffens. “It’s a high fast ball. Anthony throws every ounce of strength into his swing…and fouls it off.”
“You know he wants that one back.”
“The count is one ball and one strike,” Garrett says.
“It’s all riding on his bat. Can he lift the ball and this team?”
As I say the words, the ball comes in hot from the pitcher, but Anthony is ready this time.
Garrett jumps up again, and when the stool crashes, I don’t hear it because he’s shouting, “That ball is out of here. Anthony Adams hits a home run!”
I join in. “Davies is across home plate for the tying run. Here comes Adams for the win!”
“A walk off home run, folks. How about that!”
“And Adams’ tenth home run of the season. This one couldn’t have come at a better time.”
Garrett runs a hand through his hair, looking dazed and relieved. “Cholla Wildcats win a big game. Our playoff hopes are alive and well.”
“That’s a feat you can’t beat.”
“We’ll end our broadcast there, everyone. Hope you’ll listen in to our next home game where we’ll call all the action and try out more signature sayings. Until then, signing off for Cholla Wildcat baseball, I’m Garrett Reeves with Josie Walters.”
He yanks off his headset and reaches for me, hugging me so tight my feet leave the ground. “I didn’t think we were going to pull that one out.”
“I would have chewed off my nails if I had any left.”
He sets me down and glances out the window. The teams have exchanged handshakes, and now our guys are celebrating on the field. His gaze moves from them to the counter with all the equipment and cables. I don’t have to hear him sigh to know he doesn’t want to be here, packing it all up. I know where he wants to be. Where he wishes he still was.
“Go out there. I’ll get started on this.”
He shakes his head. “You don’t know where anything goes.”
“I’ll figure it out.” I wave him toward the door. “Go on.”
He’s like a kid who’s just gotten everything he wanted for Christmas. He stops at the door. “My house after we’re done here? We can brainstorm more sayings.” He unholsters his finger guns and adds a wink to the lip bite.
“You know you look ridiculous when you do that, right?”
He laughs. “You know we could be legendary? We’re good together. Good enough to win this contest.”
“We’ll find out in May.”
“Don’t need to wait. I’ve willed it to happen. It’s a vision quest.”
“A what?”
“Like the movie.” When I stare blankly, he says, “You’ve never seen Vision Quest?”
“I’ve never heard of it.”
“Then it’s a date. Saturday after your shift at the bookstore. How can we attain true greatness if you don’t understand the power
