SPANG!

I climbed the stairs up to the boardwalk. A few of the snack shacks were open and I thought about grabbing a dog.Maybe later. I crossed the wood planks to the sand and walked over the beach to the edge of the water and sat down.

SPANG!

I sat there for a good long while, trying to clear my head, to think. No luck. I got up and headed back to the boardwalk for that dog. And that’s when I saw the guy tinkering around with one of the pitching machines.

SPANG!

He wasn’t planning to open, so I had to talk him into it. Finally I gave him a twenty and he showed me a cage I could use.A softball cage. I gave him another twenty and he said I could use the fastball cage. I bought some tokens, grabbed a bat and stepped into the cage.

SPANG!

I put Bud down out of the line of fire, slipped off my headphones and sunglasses and dropped a token in the slot.

SPANG!

The machines pitchSpaldings. A light flashes on the front of the pitching machine to let you know when the next one is coming.

SPANG!

I let the first couple whiz past to get the timing and placement,then I stepped into the box. The balls came in just a little high and outside. I let another one by,then got myself hunkered down. I balanced myself just back of center, so I could lift my lead foot before throwing my weight forward. I kept my elbows in and circled my bat. The light flashed. The ball came to the top of the machine and shot toward me. I stepped into it, rotating my hips and shoulders, extending my arms and pulling the bat through the strike zone, letting my whole body do the work, not just my arms. The ball was huge, brilliant white and moving about eighty miles per hour. I haven’t swung at a ball since the day I broke my leg.

The bat makes contact. The impact makes a noise. It echoes around inside the hollow aluminum cylinder and sounds like this:

SPANG!

If it weren’t for the fucking net, the ball would have gone over the Cyclone. And so would the next coupledozen I hit.

Now the torque I’m putting on my wound is starting to hurt like hell.

SPANG!

Jimmy crack corn.

SPANG!

’Cause I don’t care.

SPANG!

The balls jump off the bat like they’re scared and I groove homer after homer. My body relaxes. My mind clears.

SPANG!

I do the one thing I have ever been truly great at.

SPANG!

And for the first time I can remember, I look back at the road that led me here.

SPANG!

The long slide of my life from teenage superstar to alcoholic bartender.

SPANG!

The break in my leg that ended my baseball career before it started.

SPANG!

The calf that wandered out on the road and sent me and Rich crashing into a tree.

SPANG!

That sent Rich crashing into a tree.

SPANG!

The girl who dumped me and left me alone in New York.

SPANG!

The booze I poured down my throat.

SPANG!

The nowhere job that ruined my feet.

SPANG!

The cat Russ left me.

SPANG!

The bad guys chasing me around.

SPANG!

Mom and Dad scared and confused.

SPANG!

The friends who have died.

SPANG!

Been murdered.

SPANG!

The friend I have murdered.

SPANG!

All because I’ve spent my time waiting for things to work out for the best.

SPANG!

Like I fucking deserve it or something.

SPANG!

SPANG!

SPANG!

SPANG!

SPANG!

And something is certain.

The past is over. My life will never be what it was. And considering what I’ve made of my life so far, that may not be such a bad thing after all. It’s time to stop hoping things are going to work out and start giving myself a chance to get out of this alive. Because I’m tired of being everybody’s stupid fucking patsy. It’s 11:00A.M. and I have a friend to see back in town.

SPANG!

I get off the N train at 8th and Broadway. The streets are filling now with shoppers andbrunchers. I duck my head down, walk along the edge of the sidewalk and mutter to myself. People stay out of my way and make a point of avoiding eye contact in case I might ask for change or help of any kind.

On 9th Street I stop in front of an old tenement building, just around the corner from Sixth Avenue. I could buzz his apartment, but he might freak and call the cops. So I’m gonna have to try something else. I walk up the steps to the intercom box. There are four apartments on the top floor. I push the button for the first one, wait,get no answer. I push the second one.

– ¿Hola?

– Uh…

– ¿Hola?¿Quépasa?

– Uh,nada. Wrong, uh.

– ¿Cómo?

– Numeronobueno.Sorry.Gracias.

– De nada.

Fucking French classes.I push the third button.

– Yes?

– UPS.

– UPS?

– Yeah.

– You guys deliver on Sunday?

Shit.

– Sure, seven days a week.

– Wow, never knew that.

– Twenty-four, seven.

– Wow.

– So you want to buzz me in?

– What is it?

Uh.

– It’s a box, how do I know what it is?

– Well, who’s it.

– Look, you got a package. You want it, buzz me in.

BUZZZZ.

I run up the stairs to the second floor and the apartment at the end of the hall. I knock loudly on the door. I hear a door open up on the top floor. I knock again and I hear someone moving around inside the apartment. Upstairs, the guy is waiting for his package.

– Hey, UPS?You down there?

– Comin’ up.

I knock again.A sleepy voice from inside.

– Yeah. Hang on.

Tim opens the door a crack and looks out. When he sees me his face goes pale and he tries to slam the door shut, but I’ve already got my foot jammed in the opening.