Our road trip lasted two months. No, I'm joking. It lasted two weeks. I didn't have sex with any other men on the team; one was stupid enough. The bus bounced into the parking lot around two-thirty in the morning. When Robbie saw Suzy waiting for him, he was first off the bus. He ran to her and gave her such a big hug he almost lifted her into the air.

"Oh Suzy, I missed you so much." He gave her a big kiss.

"Is something wrong? Did something happen?" She gave him an odd, questioning look.

"No," he replied. "I was just lonely while I was gone. That's all." He grabbed his stuff from the luggage compartment and gave my hand a squeeze as I reached for mine. He winked at me and turned back to Suzy. They drove away in their car and I walked home with several guys. Nobody talked, we were all too tired.

The morning dawned bright and breezy. I opened the window to the warm August sunshine and gazed on the world beyond. The bright blue sky faded to haze near the horizon. White, fluffy clouds grazed like sheep on the tree tops of the distant mountain. I felt ready to conquer the world. I picked up the phone and called home.

"Hello?"

Oh-oh. Mom answered. "Hi Mom. It's me, Annie."

"Hi Annie." She actually sounded happy to hear from me. "How are you doing in your new life?"

I wasn't sure what she meant by that question. "I'm doing well. My record is ten wins and four losses. I've saved six games."

"What does that mean?"

"That means I've kept the team from losing six times. My ERA, or earned run average is 2.35. That means I give up fewer than three runs per nine innings pitched. It's the best on the team."

"That's nice," she said.

Nice? Was that all she could say? "Is Dad around? I promised I would call him the minute I returned home."

"Just a minute. He's outside with Sid. I'll call him." The phone clunked when she set it down. That was the first time she had ever shown any interest in baseball. Dad picked up the phone.

"Hi Annie! You're back! Anything exciting happen?"

"The bus arrived in the middle of the night and no, nothing exciting happened." Sure, I'm going to tell my Dad about Robbie. "I'm getting the hang of sleeping on the bus. I awoke several times without any stiffness anywhere. That's a major breakthrough for me."

He laughed. "That's good to hear. Sid says hi and he wants you to say hi to George. That's your coach, right?"

"Yes he is. I'll deliver the message."

"Have you decided what you're going to do come September?"

"Sleeping and eating," I joked. "Am I welcome back home or would it be awkward?"

"Honey, you're always welcome back home. Beth took over your old room so you can have Gary and Dave's. It's bigger. I've taken over Jake's loft."

I thought I knew what he meant, but decided to clarify things. "I thought you had a study in the basement."

"I'm taking over Jake's bedroom to use as a bedroom. Permanently." I didn't know what to say, so I said nothing. "Are you still there?"

"Yes, Dad. You caught me off guard with that one."

"Are you really surprised?"

"No, honestly, I'm not. Maybe I'm more surprised it took so long."

Now he was quiet. I moved the phone to my other ear and took a drink of my coffee. It was cold, bitter. "I guess you have grown up-- a lot," he eventually said.

"On to something lighter, I had a boyfriend for a month. He played for Hamilton until he got called up. His name is Paul Morrison."

"Paul Morrison? THE Paul Morrison?"

"Yes."

"Now isn't that something?" He was laughing again. "Isn't he rich?"

"Oh, yeah, real rich. Picked me up for our dates in a Ferrari."

"So how long before you make five million a year?"

"A long time, Dad. I'll be lucky to make double-A next year."

"I'm sure you'll do it."

"Me too, Dad." I looked up at my clock. It was time for me to leave for the stadium. "Dad, could you go back to the store and ask if I could have my old job back? Tell them I'm a bit of a star now and it might be good publicity for them. Don't let Mom stick her nose in this. She might see it as the end of my baseball career and take it as a victory."

"Sure, I'll ask for you. And I promise not to tell Mom."

"Thanks Dad. I gotta run now."

"Okay, Annie. Take care. See you in September."

We hung up and I grabbed my equipment bag. The walk to the stadium was pleasant enough; I had done it many times in that summer. I went out the driveway to the main road, and straight to the park. It took ten minutes to get to the players' entrance. Inside the door was a short hall, a flight of stairs down, Then another hall that stretched in two directions. To the right was the visitors' clubhouse and to the left was ours. The security guard beside the door greeted me as I entered the locker room. The park hired him sometime in mid‑June. Several guys were there, and I tossed my things in my locker and joined in the conversation. It was a startling contrast from my first day.

We discussed a soap opera that was on every Monday night. One of the characters played minor league baseball, and his life was miserable. His wife had sex with all his team- mates, his successful brother humiliated him, his coaches yelled at him, and he made seven errors an episode. It was so inaccurate it was painful. It was so inaccurate it was hilarious. We changed into our practice clothes and went out for an exercise session with Bernie. We did fielding practice. After, George took all the pitchers over for some group work. After an hour he sent the others away and gave me a quick tune-up session for the next day's start. I threw while Pete caught and George wrote.

"Lookin good, Annie. You're startin to get the ball down in the zone. Just aim for the centre and let the natural movement carry it along. Why don't you two go get something to eat?"

"Sounds good! I'm starving! How about you, Pete?"

Pete peeled off his glove, revealing the usual bright red hand. "Man, I hate you, Annie. No I don't. I hate what you do to my hand."

George grabbed Pete and looked at his hand. "Go ice it down."

"I know, I know," grumbled Pete. "Private talk, right?" He trotted over to Bernie.

We stood at third base. George slung his arm around my shoulder, like he did with all the guys. August alive with a thousand sights, sounds and smells. The field beside the park teemed with a thousand living things; humming, buzzing and chirping. A riot of gold and purple wildflowers wafted aromas into the sultry breeze, the colours echoed in the hazy sky. The air was warm and heavy, spicy and lazy. It was a day you wished would last forever, unless you suffered from hay-fever.

"You're doin me proud, Annie." George smiled wistfully into the distance. "You just ignore all those asshole reporters and the Tom Bradleys and all the other good ole boys and someday, Annie, someday you'll be in the show kickin ass." He gobbed brown slime on the foul line, which was now fouler. "You either kick ass or get your ass kicked, and you kick a good ass, Annie. You're lookin good."

"I started looking good," I said seriously, "Because I started stuffing toilet paper in my bra."

He laughed. "Shit, you don't talk like other girls."

"I've been hanging around men exclusively for almost four months! What do you expect?" I slugged him in the shoulder. He clutched at it like I hurt him was hurt, then laughed harder.

"I had some concerns with you bein a girl. I didn't know how you would take bein coached. I didn't know if you were a whiner or a cry baby, you know. But you fit in just fine."

"I wanted to fit in. I knew I couldn't be a cry baby or whine for special treatment because I was the outsider, the one who was different. I've made some adjustments, but so far everything has worked out well."

"We all had to make some adjustments-- but you know what? If we all are willin to meet in the middle, then anything is possible."

"Including lady pitchers?"

He grabbed me and noogied my head. " `specially lady pitchers! Now git goin and chow down."

Larry had ordered my food, and it was waiting for me when I got in. I set my food on the bench in front of me.

"I'll never get used to the amount of food you eat," said Larry.

"Someday," I said around a mouthful of burger, "All this food will catch up to me and I'll wake up one morning and weigh two hundred pounds."

"And what's wrong with two hundred pounds?" joked Larry. "I weigh two hundred pounds."

"On your six feet five inches; nothing. On my five feet ten inches," I held out my arms and inflated my cheeks, "Everything!"

Kyle was across from us, listening in. "My Mom says she used to be tall and slim until she had us kids, then she lost five inches and gained fifty pounds." He shook his head. "I'm still trying to figure out how."

"Don't strain the brain, dork." Dean thumped his back hard enough to make Kyle choke.

"Did you hear who won the game last night?" asked Pete.

"Yeah, doofus," replied Colin. "We won, they lost, we got on a bus and drove all night. What's wrong? Drink too much milk of amnesia or something?"

"No butt-crack-face, the Jays. The guys who pay us."

Larry spoke up. "Jays won five to three." Larry followed scores and statistics with a religious fervour. "They're two ahead of Detroit."

"Think they'll make the play-offs?" asked Chad.

"Probably; unless they fall apart." Larry grinned towards me. "The best thing would be if Annie's boyfriend broke his arm again."

"That would be great! Then I could see him again."

"Have you seen him recently?" asked Dean.

"No, but he promised we would get together in the winter."

"I'm going to Florida this winter," interjected Colin. "Six weeks of instructional league."

"I'm going to South America," said Pete. "I hear they need pitchers. Interested Annie?"

I thought for a moment. "I don't know. I don't think it would safe for a single girl in a foreign country. What do you think Larry?"

"Stay out of South America, period. I think Florida is much safer, as long as you keep a nice, big, rotweiller close at all times." We all laughed. "Seriously, Florida might be a good idea. They teach you a lot down there."

"My contract only goes until September."

"But," said Robbie with a wink, "They own your balls for three years once you've signed."

"Cool. Good thing I don't have balls."

"You know what I mean." Robbie feigned a pout.

Dean was about to speak when Garry entered the room. "Guys, girl, settle down. I've got a few things to say. First, Chad Curtis, Ty Graham, and Joe Wilson, you have twenty-four hours to report to Bill Hogarth of the Dayton Dragons. Congratulation Guys, you're moving up." The men dove into their lockers.

"Next: keep the second weekend in September open. We're invited to the Skydome for a weekend with the Jays. We'll get the VIP treatment; a tour of the facilities, participate in a practice, meet the players, and get good seats for all the weekend games. Two players will spend the rest of the season with the team as September call-ups. Who will they be? I don't know. It's not my decision.

"We won't be going to the league play-offs. Oh well. We will finish with a winning record even if we lose all our remaining games. Everyone had a good year, you can all be proud. You have been one of the best bunches I've coached. We've pulled together in the face of adversity and celebrated together in moments of triumph. We are a tight knit group; we have become a real team. If that is the only thing you learn this year, how to be a team, then we, as your coaches and teachers, have been successful. Now suit up and on the field." He clapped his hands three times to signal the end of the meeting. We exited to the field, except for the three who were buried in their lockers and floating on cloud nine, if you'll forgive the mixed metaphor.

We played a wild game, losing twelve to thirteen. It was more like a batting practice than a real game. Seventy balls became souvenirs. Steve counted them. He thought it might be a league record.

A group of fans with some of the foul balls were at Ziggy's after the game, and they wanted some autographs. The group consisted of eight happy, drunk men, all claiming to be my number one fan. I talked with them for a while and they bought me a couple drinks. When they became overbearing Dean told them he was my boyfriend. None of the fans argued, what with Dean standing at least a foot higher than the tallest and clearly in better physical condition.

Dean walked me home, just to be safe. We didn't think they would try to follow me, but you never can tell with some fans. When we stopped at the light Dean rubbed my hand and gave it a brief squeeze. I looked in his eyes and he gave me a sweet, warm smile. I returned the squeeze. When I got home, he made sure I locked my door tightly and told me to call him if any fans came around looking for me. I felt almost disappointed when he was gone.

I eased my loneliness by phoning Jake. Ellen answered the phone. "How was the road trip?"

"Two weeks of cheap motels and fast food. Fortunately, we have only one more time on the road."

"Anything exciting happen."

"Sort of, I had sex with a team mate."

"What?!" she squealed.

"I know, real stupid, right?"

"Tell me what happened."

"We were lonely, vulnerable, and available. It was totally meaningless; we agreed on that."

"There must have been something there before; these things don't come out of nowhere."

"It has to be meaningless, he's married."

"Oh." She was quiet. "Dad's right. You are growing up."

"I certainly hope so; I'm twenty-one. Many girls my age are married and having babies."

"Yes, but it doesn't mean they're grown up." I could hear mumbling in the background on the phone. "Jake's here. Want to talk to him?"

I said okay and she put him on. "Hi, Jake the Snake! How's the bohemian life of an artist?"

"Not too bad. I finished a show in St. Jacobs and did very well." St. Jacobs is a little tourist town a few miles from home. Little arts and crafts and antique shops lined the streets -only they spelled shop like shoppe. Jake sold many paintings there. "We're thinking about moving there. We found a big old house on the main Street with a studio in the front part and a residence in the rear. There's also a large garden in the back. It's great."

"Sounds like you're more than thinking, sounds like you're serious."

He chuckled. "Maybe we're more serious than we realize. There will enough room for Ellen to have her own writing room. We can have the kitchen table back."

"That sounds great. Did you know Dad made a move of his own?"

Jake was silent. "Yes I did. He talked to me for a long time before he made his decision."

"Why does he stay? Why doesn't he move far away from Mom?"

Jake sighed heavily. "There are thing that you don't understand. Beth is still a child; so is Jesse in spite of what he thinks of himself. Dad would never leave any of his children. I know it's meaningless to you, but being Catholic is important to Dad, so divorce isn't one of his options. He's making the best of the ones that are available to him. He's going back to work."

"He didn't tell me that." My surprise was genuine.

"Sid talked him into it. He's been going to school all summer. He used to be a supervisor in the school board, and they were happy to have him return."

"Good for Dad! It's getting late, and I have to pitch tomorrow, so I have to go."

"Okay! Go out and win one for me."

We said good-bye and I hung up. I thought for a while about Mom and Dad; and realized that Jake was right; there were a lot of things about them I would never understand.

I awoke to the sound of hammering on my door. I opened it a crack when Suzy burst through. "Are you doing anything for breakfast?"

I yawned and shook my head. "I just got up."

"Good! Come down to our place." She turned and left. I dressed quickly and went down to their apartment, which was right below mine. They had the most fascinating door knocker. It was a large wooden plaque, and at the top was a brass name plate inscribed with "ROBBINS". Under the name were two brass bats crossed in an X. At the bottom was the knocker, a solid brass baseball. Suzy said they got it in a gift shop in Cooperstown that sold all kinds of things with baseball motifs.

She let me in and led me to their dining room. Their apartment was much larger than mine. The living room was bright and spacious with many types of tropical plants, some covered in large, exotic blooms. Sliding doors led to a patio, complete with lawn chairs and a barbecue. Suzy's kitchen had every appliance on earth and several that appeared alien in origin. It was painted peach and the corner wall with the table and chairs was adorned in mushroom wallpaper. The dining room was roomy enough for a large table and a full-sized china cabinet. Inside the cabinet were Robbie's trophies. He had four. A ceiling fan kept the room cool and comfortable. Legal papers covered one end of the table and Robbie sat at the other end, munching a banana.

"Hey, Annie Dude-ette!" he hailed as I walked in .

"Hey, Robbie dude!" I hailed in return. We high-fived tapped elbows and slugged shoulders while Suzy watched patiently.

"When you two are done your male bonding crap we can get to business." Robbie and I turned serious. He went to the kitchen and returned with a coffee pot and three mugs. Suzy spoke, using her best business voice. "We received confirmation from `Canada this Morning.' You will appear on the Friday morning of your Toronto visit. You will be picked up at 5:30 for 7:30 taping. You will be back at the hotel in time for the planned brunch." She handed me a piece of paper. "This is the itinerary for the day. Wear something good; they'll do your hair and make-up. Now on to next year-"

"You mean there's going to be a next year?" I was ecstatic.

"You bet! I've negotiated a two year minor league deal laced with incentives and bonuses. There are several special clauses that kick in if you make it to Toronto or the Show as you men call it." She went over the contract clause by clause; all sorts of legal stuff that would take most of the book to explain. When she explained it to my satisfaction I agreed to sign it when I was in Toronto. She told me to dress in dressy clothes and wear make-up because there might be a press conference and image is important. Are they hiring a fashion model or a killer pitcher? I thought, I decided to humour Suzy and do as she said.

When we finished our business she brought out a stack of waffles and sausages. We had a good breakfast and talked about non-baseball things. At ten Robbie and I walked to the stadium. It was my start and the news from Suzy put me in a good frame of mind.

In the locker room I re-laced my glove with a piece of leather from a glove Larry was discarding. "If I'm going to be playing for two more years I should get a new glove. I should have one that doesn't threaten to fall apart when I catch the return toss from my catcher."

Larry laughed. "I thought you were just superstitious about it, like it was your lucky glove or something."

"No way," I said. "It's not even mine, my brother gave it to me for playing in high school and I've been using it ever since."

"Just wait until your first Spring training camp," said Robbie. "That's when we get gifts from the Gods." He nodded knowingly, as did the other guys.

"Get outta here," I said incredulously.

"It's true," confirmed Larry. "First come the Gods from the shoe companies."

"Yeah," cut in Pete. "They kneel before you and worship your feet and lovingly place shoes upon them."

Robbie held up three pairs of shoes. "I get a pair a year."

Larry continued, "Then come those who kneel before you and present you with gloves that lovingly caress your hand."

"As long as they can use your picture in their advertising," reminded Pete.

"At the end of the year all the people who advertise in the park will come bearing gifts," said Robbie.

Blake cut in. "Hey Annie, if Sam's Tool Town gives you an electric drill can I have it?"

"And do not forget the Bat Men," said Pete.

"I'm a pitcher; they won't bother with me."

George, who was listening at the door, spoke up. "It gets worse in the show. Wear this, use that, hold the bat so's we can see the label, some of the guys become nothin but walkin talkin billboards." He spat a wad into the trash pail and pulled out a fresh chaw from his pocket. "Be careful, Annie, be your own man, not a corporate mouth piece. Greed's destroyed more than one career." He was quiet, letting his words sink into our brains. "Time to warm up, Annie. Robbie, you're catching."

We did a slow warm up. I felt in control of my pitches, if not my life. Today was Tuesday, and on Tuesday we, the players, provided the national anthems for the opening ceremonies. We were all pitiful singers; nevertheless, we were getting better by this time. At least we didn't have to sing "Take Me Out To The Ball Game" during the seventh inning stretch, like the poor saps in Spruce Valley. They always appeared ready to die of embarrassment. As I said it was Tuesday and the seats were full. I took my place on the mound to a thunderous ovation. Well, thunderous for that place.

I threw five perfect innings, without getting a single strike out. They kept grounding the ball to the infield. Marcos, at shortstop, hopped all over the place. I broke up the perfect game in the sixth by surrendering a walk, and in the eighth I gave up a base hit. I came within four outs of my first professional no-hit game.

We won four nothing. All my team mates ran onto the field to congratulate me, and I received hugs from all the coaches. I tipped my cap to the crowd, which was standing and cheering. It was a very proud moment for me. All the crap I had to put up with through the year seemed less important. It was in that game that I became addicted to winning, the rush of adrenaline, the roar of the crowd, the feeling that I can control my world and my destiny. Nothing else feels like winning. Playing the game doesn't come close. Only winning feels like winning.

I spent an hour outside the player's entrance signing autographs. When the crowd cleared I joined my pals for a victory celebration at Ziggy's. Nothing happened at the bar, except Marcos fell asleep at the table. We didn't disturb him because we knew he had worked hard that afternoon.

Once again Dean walked back to my apartment with me. This time he held my hand all the way back.

"So what happened to the girl from the ticket window?" I asked to break the stifling silence.

"I dunno. All those girls are kinda blending into one, you know. There's nothing that makes them stand out. They all talk about the same things, themselves."

"When they should be talking about you?" I interrupted.

He blushed. "Also, Garry and Steve sat me down with Bob Quincy, you know, the manager of the Jays," I nodded and Dean continued. "And they told me what happens when a guy spends too much time fooling around with girls and partying and not enough time working on his game."

"What happens?"

"They show him a one way ticket back to California with his name on it, and one week to change their minds."

"Oh, Dean! I didn't know you came that close. When was this?"

"During the road trip through hell. Quincy came over from Cleveland just to yell at me. He told me I was fucking up my only chance. He said it didn't matter what I was allowed to do in college or high school, I wasn't there any longer and I had to learn to play by their rules or I would find myself slinging hash back home." He wiped at his eyes. "I spent three hours on the phone with my dad. And he said the same things! Man, I don't think a week has ever gone slower than that one."

I squeezed his hand. "You're still here. Why didn't you tell anyone sooner?"

He sighed. "Because the guys would think I was an asshole. After all the bragging I did in Spring training, about how I would end up in the show by July? I just wanna kick myself when I think of it."

We walked in silence for a while. The air was still sticky, but a cold undercurrent from the approaching autumn drifted along the edges of the late August breeze. I turned and he was staring into my eyes. "So what are we doing here?"

>"I don't know," he sighed again. We stopped at a red light, two blocks beyond the street leading to my apartment. "Did you want to come to my place?" He stopped and shook his head. "No, you probably think that was a cheap come-on line. I don’t want to use all those cheap old lines on you.”

“You want to try a bunch of expensive new come-on lines?”

“No, that’s not what I meant. I don’t want to use lines I want to be honest, like a friend, only better. We’ve been through so much this year.”

“You mean ‘we’ as in the baseball team, ‘we’ as baseball team-mates or ‘we’ as in You and I, Annie and Dean, potential couple?”

He stared at the sidewalk. “I don’t know. I think we need to talk, just you and I. But it would be easier if we just go to our own apartments now."

"I agree. Easier and safer. Except you still have to walk me back because I don't like to walk the streets alone at night."

He agreed, and when we got to my door he kissed me on the cheek, and I returned the kiss. I don't think his feet touched the stairs on the way down.