more, more, more

chapter 1 part 1
chapter 1 part 2
chapter 2 part 1
i'm behind on account of this week's joy, so this is crap, but at least you find out what is happening. word count 6336.

The team kept on winning with A.J.’s bat and defense – A.J. Sullivan, Casey’s new friend. Sometimes it was difficult for Casey to bury the thrill of hanging out with the Reds. Sometimes players from other teams, future Hall of Famers like David Wright and Ryan Howard and Andrew Jones, came out with them. The only thing that wasn’t perfect about Casey’s life was his dreadful job.

A.J. tried to keep Anne away from Casey as much as he could, and for this Casey was grateful. There were times it couldn’t be avoided, however, but Casey always kept his mouth shut.

Around the end of July, A.J. introduced Casey to his friend Sidney. Sidney was a businessman, which Casey later found out meant bookie. That fact didn’t change Casey’s opinion about Sidney, as he really enjoyed Sidney’s company, especially when they were sitting in Sidney’s box seats at Great American.

Sidney seemed to know everyone in Cincinnati – city officials, business people, the Bengals, and the police. Suddenly, Casey found himself constantly surrounded by VIPs and, as he came to suspect, white collar criminals. Casey pretended he was in a gangster movie, only without the violence and death. He knew he was letting his imagination have too much control over reality, but it was fun!

One particularly plain day that was neither too hot nor too comfortable and neither too cloudy nor clear, Casey and Sidney were once again perched in the GABP box seats with the Reds down 6 – 4 in the bottom of the 7^th. The team had been on a two week slide in which the 2^nd place Cardinals had gained five games on them and were sitting at a 2.5 game deficit going into the final month of the season. Reds fans everywhere were mentally preparing themselves for the annual collapse.

“Hey, Sidney, I have a strange confession to make, but first we have to see the Reds tie it up in this inning.” Casey had one beer too many, but that one beer gave him the courage to tell his greatest secret, one that could make people think he was crazy. Sidney looked at him somewhat fearfully but waited for him to go on.

“Ok, so we have Votto, BP, and Ross up this inning. Votto’s going to lead off the inning with a double. BP isn’t going to do anything, and Ross is going to somehow move Votto to third, but it won’t matter, because a pinch hitter is going to tie the game up with one swing.”

Sidney laughed. “We’ll see.” Votto took the first pitch for strike one and hacked at a breaking ball for strike two. Looks like you’re gonna be wrong. No, no, I can feel it. This pitch. Crack! The ball hit the gap and was cut off by the rightfielder. Votto coasted into second with a stand up double.

“Would you look at that?” Sidney said with a smirk. “You’re psychic. I’ll have to put you on my payroll. We’ll make billions!” It was Casey’s turn to laugh. If only he knew…

Brandon Phillips popped up ball four to the shortstop, and David Ross followed him with a groundout to the second baseman, moving Votto over to third.

“I should have bet you on this,” Casey said, sporting his own version of a smirk, though it was far less menacing than that of Sidney.

“Well, be glad you didn’t. Look – Arroyo is batting for himself.” No pinch hitter after giving up six runs? Granted, three of them were unearned because Griffey’s ancient ass misjudged a fly to center and what should have been the third out of the fifth inning turned into a bases clearing error. Despite no pinch hitter, Casey still had his good feeling.

“Then I guess Arroyo will be the one to knock it out.” Ball one. Sidney couldn’t wipe the grin off his face. Ball two. Last call for alcohol! Crack! The ball is hit to deep leftfield. Does it have the height? Get out of here, baseball! Boom go the fireworks, the stadium erupts, and in all of the noise, Casey lips the words “told you so!” to Sidney, whose mouth was somewhat agape with a hint of incredulity in the corners.

“Good call, lucky bastard,” he said. “So, tell me, psychic one, how does this one end?”

“I don’t know. I can’t just turn the feeling on.”

“The feeling?”

“Yeah, I just get these gut feelings sometimes and I just know what’s going to happen.”

Sidney started to laugh but changed his mind. “You don’t seriously believe that, do you?”

“Wasn’t that enough evidence for you?” Casey could see Sidney did not believe him, so he just dropped the subject. Until the bottom of the ninth.

“This one’s in the bag, another exciting finish.”

“How’s this one going to end, Mr. Psychic?”

“I can tell you that Freel and Dunn are going to make outs.”

“All thirty thousand people could tell you that. They’re both in horrible slumps. Dunn hasn’t had a hit in two weeks.”

“But can they tell you that Griffey is going to get a hit, A.J. will get on with a walk, I think, and EdE will single in a pinch runner for the game winner.”

There was an electricity in the air that even Sidney could feel, and oddly, he didn’t doubt Casey was right on some level. Freel popped up to the catcher.

“So what was that confession you had?”

“Watch and see that I’m right.”

Dunn struck out on three pitches to the tune of a smattering of boos. Griffey then blooped the first pitch over the second baseman’s head for a single and was taken out for a pinch runner. A.J. took a ball and a strike before he was plunked with a pitch, bringing EdE to the plate. He took the first two pitches for balls before Sidney turned to Casey and said, “My god, I think you’re right. It kind of feels like he’s going to get a hit.” The bat connected on the next pitch, sending a line drive into rightfield for a hit. The runner chugged around third and headed toward home as the rightfielder fired a rocket to the plate. The runner hit the dirt as the catcher received the throw. The stadium held its breath as all sound was sucked up by some cosmic vacuum, and no one moved until the hands went out.

“Safe!” the umpire screamed, setting off an explosion of jubilation and inciting a mob in red to swarm home plate. And this one belongs to the Reds!

The thrill of the victory did not leave Casey for quite some time. Sidney was oddly silent as they walked to the car.

“You don’t have to take me home, I can walk,” Casey said.

“It’s on my way, no problem,” he replied, saying nothing more.

“That was some game, wasn’t it?” Casey said with the enthusiasm of young Casey at Riverfront.

“Yeah, it really was.” He flipped on the post game if only to shut Casey up. It was just a coincidence, wasn’t it? Just a few lucky guesses. A bookie’s dream, really. Sidney wanted to believe, but he wasn’t getting his hopes up. Not consciously, anyway.