~ Chapter Fifty Nine ~

"If the Mariners pull out a win tonight, Dorough stands a very good chance of being MVP of this World Series."  Dave Niehaus pointed out. "He's standing on first with his second hit of the evening, here with one out in the top of the seventh.  That brings up Mariner right fielder Nick Carter, who has the chance to bring the Mariners within one run of tying this game.

"Carter swings and misses at the first pitch.  I was talking to both Nick and his father, Yankees Hall of Famer, Bob Carter, earlier today, and Nick's got a touch of that flu that's been going around the clubhouse lately, but he's still in the lineup tonight."  Niehaus chuckled.  "It would take a lot more than just stomach flu to keep someone from playing game seven of the World Series.

"Here's the next pitch, and Carter sends a high looping foul back into the first base seats.  First baseman Jason Richards is on deck, should Carter get on base, Richards would be the tying run.  The pitch to Carter... swiiiiing and a miss, and here comes Richards with two outs. Mariner fans have been praying for a miracle ever since the third inning, and now's the time for it to happen.

"The pitch to Richards... he hits it on the ground up the third baseline... foul ball.  Dorough takes a small lead at first,  here's the stretch, and the pitch... that ball is hit DEEP to right field and that will fly, FLY away, into the bleachers in right!"  Niehaus was screaming at the top of his lungs by this point.  "The Mariners get inch a little closer on the two run home run by Jason Richards here in the seventh!

"Left fielder Terrance Davis steps up to the plate... he chops the first pitch towards the hole at short... it's cut off by Hernandez, and he wheels and FIRES to first in time to get Davis.  The Mariners get two back, we go to the bottom of the seventh, the Dodgers leading the Mariners 4-3.  Keep hoping for that miracle."

~*~

"Welcome back, it's the top of the ninth, the Dodgers still leading the Seattle Mariners by a score of 4-3 in this, the final game of the World Series."  Stan Morgan said cheerfully.  "The Dodgers now have their closer, Bert Neudorfer, in the game, after reliever Hart gave up a leadoff walk to pinch hitter Sam Harris.  The Mariners will send up the top of their lineup in an attempt to get back into the game.  First up is shortstop Luis Alicea."

"The Dodgers have carried the momentum through most of this game."  Bob Carter joined in.  "Everything has been moving in their favor, and the Mariners can't quite seem to turn it to their advantage.  They tried in the second and the seventh, but it wasn't quite enough."

"Alicea fouls another pitch back into the seats behind the first base dugout..."  Morgan paused.  "Is there really someone up in the Mariners bullpen, Bob?"

~*~

As Alicea fouled off his fourth straight pitch, AJ stood up, tossed his navy and silver coat on the dugout bench, and motioned to bullpen catcher John Matthews.  "C'mon."

"What are you doing?"  Matthew wondered.

"What the hell does it LOOK like I'm doing?"  AJ retorted.  "I'm warming up.  Go over there and catch the ball."  AJ had no idea why he was about to do this.  It seemed stupid to him to start warming up when the Mariners were behind, but he had a strange feeling during the last at-bat that he should start warming up.  And always having been one that listened to the voices in his head, rather than logic, AJ decided to warm up.  Maybe the voice in his head would tell him to go get some coffee pretty soon.

"Why?"  Matthews said hesitantly.  "Buddy didn't tell you to. Besides - it doesn't look like there's gonna be a bottom of the inning anyway."

"So what!"  AJ tossed the ball up in the air and caught it.  "I'm pitching the bottom of this inning."  There went that little voice again.

"AJ!  What are you doing?"  Jared Price demanded, deciding to exercise a little coaching authority.

"Warming up."  AJ said slowly, enunciating each word.  "Is there a problem here?"

"I guess not... let me call Buddy."

"He's not going to stop me!"  AJ yelled at the coach's back.  "I do whatever the voices in my head tell me to do!"

~*~

Buddy hung the phone up in the dugout and stared out at the Mariners bullpen.  Yes, it was true; AJ was warming up like he was going to pitch the bottom of the inning.  Maybe it would work.  It was worth a shot.  If it didn't, it didn't really matter.   AJ would have all winter to rest.

"Howie!"  Buddy called as the third baseman strutted past on his way to the on deck circle.

"Yeah, coach?"

"There's one out, you know."

"Yeah.  I saw that."  Howie agreed.

"AJ seems to be thinking there's going to be a bottom of the ninth." Buddy nodded out at the bullpen.

Howie gave Buddy a rather toothy smile.  "I sure hope there is!  Any advice, coach?"

If Howie called him `coach' one more time, Buddy was almost certain he'd strangle the little moron with his ponytail.  "Nope.  Just get on."

"Sure thing!"  Howie bounced up the dugout steps and into the on deck circle, winking at two girls seated above the dugout.  They both giggled and smiled back.

~*~

Center fielder Shingo Kinomoto followed Alicea's lead and grounded out to Christiansen at first base.  Howie strutted up to the plate, with two outs, something between a smirk and a sneer on his face.

~*~

"Nick, dude, you're up."

"Huh?"  Nick jumped and glanced up at the bench coach. 

"On deck? You?"

"Okay."  Nick pulled his hat off and ran his hand through his hair.  This wasn't a good time to come up to bat.  He felt terrible.  Standing out in the cold in right field all night hadn't helped him any.  His head hurt.  His neck hurt.  Okay, fine, he was sore all over.  He wasn't even sure what inning it was, much less who was pitching and what he threw. 

Nick pulled his batting helmet and gloves out of the cubby and crawled back up to stand in the cold.  Now he was lightheaded.  Maybe he could just pass out in the on deck circle and someone else could come up to bat.  Nick's eyes focused for a moment on the scoreboard.  Ninth inning.  1, 1, 2.  Nick shook his head slightly.  Did it really say two outs?  Nick smacked his bat on the ground.  "Don't walk, Howie."  He muttered.  "Don't get on base. Please... just hit a home run or end the game.  All I need right now is to be the last out of game seven."

Howie swung and connected with a loud crack, watching with admiration as he hit a high looping foul into the upper deck along the left field line.

Nick glanced out at the bullpen.  AJ was warming up, stopping every other pitch to studiously inspect the bullpen monitor showing the game action.

Howie dug in again, waited for the pitch and swung.  This time he hit it fair. 

"C'mon."  Nick begged, watching the ball sail towards the left field wall. 

The ball smacked into the foam covered wall, inches from the yellow line along the top, and bounced back over the left fielder's head into left center field. 

Howie perched atop second base and carefully smoothed his hair, well ahead of the throw in from left field. 

"WHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"  Left fielder Terrance Davis could be heard clearly, as the crowd fell silent.  "HOW-IE!  HOW-IE!"

~*~

Nick stepped into the batters box, scuffing the dirt around with his cleats and trying very hard not to think.  Hitting didn't require thinking, hitting was just reacting.  If Nick kept thinking, the only thought running through his muddled head was he was about to be the last out of the World Series.  That was something his father would never, ever, let him forget.  To make it worse, Howie, who was preening in the general vicinity of second, was the tying run, in scoring position. 

Oh well, Nick might as well go out with a bang.

He supposed the crowd was on their feet and screaming, but he didn't hear them.  All he could hear was some very loud ringing in his ears. Nick took a deep breath and tried to clear his head.  It didn't work. 

The pitch came towards the plate, and Nick swung instinctively, glancing around in confusion afterwards.  He knew he had hit it, and Howie was running for third as fast as he could, Nick just had no idea where the ball had gone.