~ Chapter Fifty Four ~
"Two outs here in the top of the fifth inning, and that will bring Mariner third baseman Howie Dorough to the plate." Stan Morgan announced. "Dorough is 1 for 1 with a single tonight; he scored one of the two Mariner runs in the first inning."
"Dorough had an impressive Championship Series." Bob Carter pointed out.
"And his play has carried right on over into the World Series. He and Littrell were the key elements in the offense for Seattle against the Yankees, with the MVP honors going to Littrell, but that doesn't lessen what Dorough's done in the postseason. To think, last year, this man was one of the worst third basemen in the league - it's hard to believe."
"It certainly is, Bob." Stan agreed, the two announcers ignoring the play on the field below them, as Howie fouled off another pitch.
"Dorough's added a lot to this team this year - as has Littrell. Of course, our best wishes go out to him right now. For those who tuned in partway through the broadcast, Mariners second baseman Brian Littrell was admitted to the hospital last night. Details aren't being made public at this time, but the Mariners front office says that Brian's doing fine and is watching the game tonight."
The camera cut to a shot of the dugout, zooming in on the side of Carlos Ramos' hat and the #12 written on it in white. "The Mariners are all wearing #12 on their caps tonight, which of course, is Brian's number." Morgan pointed out.
Howie took the next pitch and send it flying down the left field line, the ball still rising when it landed in the bleachers, just inside the foul pole.
"Holy COW!" Bob Carter yelped in amazement. "That was a rocket. I haven't seen a ball hit that hard in some time."
"And just like that - the Mariners take the lead, 3-2." Morgan added as Howie rounded the bases, high fiving Nick at the plate. "That brings up right fielder Nick Carter."
"Looks like he caught a hanging curve and just ripped into it." Bob was inspecting the replay. "That was some home run."
"What about Nick, Bob?" Morgan wondered. "He's been playing pretty good baseball the second half of the season, he put in some great games against the Yankees in the LCS, and he's hitting just over .500 in the World Series. Right now, all he really needs is experience and he'll be one of the best hitters in baseball."
"We haven't even begun to see the tip of what Nick is capable of doing." Bob shook his head. "He's playing where he is right now without really putting any effort into it. Things that I spent YEARS perfecting - he picked them up just like that. Even as a little kid, he was like that. Nick could be ten times better than he is right now, he just has to be aggressive enough to go after it."
"Called strike three, and that ends the inning." Morgan interrupted as Nick watched the ball cut the middle of the plate and slam into the catchers mitt. "After five and a half, the Mariners lead game six, 3-2 on a solo home run by Howie Dorough."
~*~
"Five more..." Niehaus enunciated every syllable, dragging the two words out. "Five more outs, and the Mariners take the World Series. Arton's set, here's the pitch to the plate, and the Dodger catcher sends a solid hit through the hole - here comes Stockton from second, they're waving him towards the plate..." Niehaus' voice rose for a moment, before settling back down. "And the throw is cut off, Stockton scores, and the Mariners now lead it 4-3. The Dodgers have the tying run on first base and here comes a pinch hitter for the number nine spot in the order."
~*~
"This is NOT happening!" Denise shrieked, jumping up from her chair and stalking towards the kitchen in frustration. "They can't do this! Take Arton out! Take him OUT!" She screamed at the TV.
"They can't." Felicia pointed out. "There isn't anyone up in the bullpen."
"Get someone up!" Denise was almost jumping up and down. "WHY are you paying my son millions of dollars to play if you don't put him in the GAME?" She picked up the first thing her hand grabbed, which happened to be a magazine, and flung it at the TV.
"Oh no! No! No!" Felicia screamed, covering her eyes so she couldn't see the TV. "Base hit!" She peeked out to see the Dodger catcher perched on third base, the pinch hitter atop first.
"Tying run on third." Denise sighed. "This cannot happen. Get Alex in the damn game right now."
~*~
"And here comes manager Buddy Williams out of the dugout. He's taking his time, letting McLean warm up down in the bullpen." Morgan informed the TV audience. "You have admit, once McLean is in the game, things look pretty bleak for the Dodgers. He hasn't given up an earned run the entire postseason. Williams has made the call to the bullpen, here comes McLean. We'll be back after this time-out. The Mariners lead it 4-3 with one out in the bottom of the eighth. Don't go away."
~*~
"I don't care how the hell you do it - just get out of this mess." Those were Buddy only instructions to AJ before he turned and marched back to the dugout.
Kevin rested his throwing hand on his hip and waited. There was a system here. Now was the time that AJ said something completely unrelated to the game. He knew how it worked.
"Let's keep it low and try for a ground ball." AJ shrugged, flipping the ball upward and catching it with his glove absently.
Kevin almost inhaled his wad of gum. "What? Strategy? Just like that? No questions first? You don't want to know if your a-- looks good in the road uniform? You don't want to know if your hair clashes with the S on the hat? No disgusting joke someone told you in the fifth inning?"
AJ's face didn't change expression, except for his eyes, which darkened. "I want this game, Kevin. Brian's dying - the least we can do is win the f----- game for him, okay?"
"Okay." Kevin backed off and headed towards the plate. It had taken 170 some games, but finally AJ's head was screwed on straight.
~*~
"Here's the 1-1 pitch..." Niehaus said cautiously. "SWIIIIIIIIING and a miss at that forkball in the dirt." He allowed himself to grow more excited now. "And McLean is set - a check of the runners, and the pitch... SWING - and a one hopper right back at the mound, McLean has it... he spins and fires to second for one..." Now his voice climbed up into the hysteric yelling range. "And the throw to first is in time, double play and the Mariners get out of a BIG, BIG jam here in the eighth! We go to the top of the ninth, the Mariners still leading, 4-3."
~*~
"Three more outs!" Stacy pleaded with the TV, glad she was the only person in the room. For the last three and a half hours, she had been talking to the TV, and if she hadn't been alone, she'd be feeling slightly foolish by this point.
On the TV screen across from her bed, AJ was perched on the mound, staring down at homeplate with the same goofy, eyebrows raised expression he always had when waiting for the sign.
"That was WAY outside, full count, 3 and 2." Stan Morgan didn't have to say it. Stacy could see it with her own eyes.
"Honestly, AJ." She grabbed one of the pillows behind her, hugging it. She had to hold onto something. Sitting in the stands at Safeco Field had been bad enough for her nerves - sitting halfway across the country watching on TV was ten times worse. "No!" She yelped as AJ proceeded to bounce the next pitch a foot in front of home plate and it went flying to the backstop, Kevin bolting after it. "AJ, don't do this. Don't do this..."
"And the Dodgers have the winning run at the plate in first baseman Ryan Christiansen." There was a note of glee in Stan Morgan's tone. It didn't get any better than this. Down to the bottom of the ninth, and the team's best hitter came up with no outs, a runner on first and a struggling pitcher on the mound.
"You don't have to sound so happy about it." Stacy grumbled. "Poor AJ."
~*~
Howie found himself nodding in agreement as Kevin turned to call time and started towards the mound. AJ was off. Of all the times in the world for AJ to have an off day, he had picked today.
"Don't you dare!" AJ was hollering at Kevin, much to Howie - and Kevin's - surprise. "I mean it! Get back behind the damn plate!"
"AJ..." Kevin started, not backing down.
"I mean it!" AJ yelled, starting down the side of the mound towards Kevin.
Kevin glanced out at Howie, who shrugged in response. Let AJ handle it his own way. He had always been right before. Maybe he could still pull this one out.
"Will you just calm down?" Kevin kept trying.
"Get back there and catch the f----- ball!" AJ spun around and stalked back to the top of the mound, glaring daggers at Kevin until the catcher finally gave up and went back to home plate, shaking his head.
~*~
"Well..." Bob Carter said in amusement, watching the scene unfolding on the field. "We don't know what McLean was saying, but some of those words were pretty clear, and I think we can safely say he's pretty worked up right now." He laughed. "It was a speech that couldn't be played on network television, that's for sure."
"Richardson's back behind the plate, and here's the pitch to Christiansen..." Morgan waited the second and a half it took the ball to reach home plate. "Strike, right down the middle. That was one of the harder fastballs McLean has thrown. 92 miles an hour..."
AJ caught the throw back from Kevin, and circled the mound once, glowering over at first base and his second walk of the postseason, who was standing on the bag, adjusting his batting gloves. "The 0-1 pitch..." Morgan started. "And that is BELTED towards right field... Carter's going back... he's to the wall... and there WILL be a game seven! The Dodgers come back to win it in the bottom of the ninth on a two run shot by Ryan Christiansen!"
~*~
Kevin stood behind home plate, still not comprehending what had just happened. He had been hoping Nick would get to the ball, but it had just kept right on going, into the seats. Heartbreaking didn't even begin to describe it. Kevin's gaze traveled back from the outfield wall to the lone figure sitting on the mound, his face buried in his arms.
