Champagne & Baseball

Teams & Traditions

Tomorrow was our first game. I saw nerves on every face around me. Coach Matthew and I decided to sit in on the team's afternoon yoga class. A suggestion from Katherine, their physical therapist, that had turned out to be very valuable. Helping the team bond while stretching out sore muscles.

Coach and I whispered in the back of the room while Katherine announced positions, the boys following her every move.

"Brady or Aaron?" He asked me quietly, pointing at the empty spot on my clipboard. He liked getting my opinion on who played because I had the strongest personal relationship to all the boys. He felt I could see who would work well together and who wouldn't.

"I thought Brady was our lead."

"Even with the fighting?" I jerked my head up to face him. I hadn't told him about that. He smiled at my shocked face. "The walls talk." he said, a glint in his eyes.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you - " He cut me off.

"You scared them more than I would have. Half the team was an hour early for practice on Monday." He laughed, put his arm around my shoulders and gave me a tight squeeze. "You're doing good work here."

I blushed at our proximity and returned my concentration to my clipboard. "I still say, Brady." He nodded and wrote his name in the empty spot.

^^

Brady was tense at home. Pacing around our apartment, hand tapping on his thigh. I cleared the Chinese takeout boxes we had demolished for dinner.

"Why don't we watch a movie?" I asked. "It will calm you down." He stopped pacing, hand still tapping.

"Yea. That's a good idea." He answered after a long pause, he nodded his head endlessly.

I grabbed his chin, stopping him. "You're freaking me out." His eyes stole my train of thought, I had been wrong, his eyes weren't brown. They were a hazel swirl, intoxicating. His minty breath across on my cheeks, he gave me a slow smile. I let go of him, jumping onto the couch, distracting myself with the TV.

An hour into the movie, his nervous ticks were back. How did a professional player get this nervous for a game? Was it going to be like this every week? Every day?

"What do you think I should wear?" I asked him to distract him.

He raised his eyebrows at me. "Red and yellow." He shrugged. It wasn't a bad answer, those were the teams colors. I pursed my lips.

"I don't own red or yellow." He shook his head and intertwined his hands behind his neck.

"I've seen your closet. No way do you not have red and yellow."

"I don't." I lifted my shoulders and pulled my legs up on the coach, folding them under me. "Delilah says they're not my colors." I said, feeling stupid as I said it.

His eyes dragged up and down my body and his tongue rolled across his lips. "They're your colors now." He said, his voice deeper than it was a moment earlier. I leaned into him, his eyes capturing mine.

He dropped his arm from his head and put it on my thigh. My gaze jumped down to look at it. His strong tanned hand covered my pale skin. He sat silent for a moment. He blinked twice and retracted his hand. "Just don't wear the other team's colors." he breathed, returning his attention to the movie.

The fidgeting stopped after that.

^^

I woke up early the next day to a dark sky, unable to sleep. I decided not to go for a run - today my focus was on the Falcon's performance not my own.

I was told the opening game would be the hardest of the season. Fans were anxious to see how their team would do and would set the team up for the rest of their games.

I grabbed my work computer and logged in. No new emails but I reread the old ones, skin itching for work. The Panthers would be here at 11 and would like access to the locker room immediately. At 12 they wanted access to the field and at one it was game on.

I putted around the apartment for a while wishing there was work to be done. Wishing my idle hands had something to do. I made myself a cup of coffee and sat on the counter taking in the past week, my first week.

All in all, it had gone well. I knew I wasn't in charge of the team itself, but I still feel a huge weight on my shoulders over this game. Like if we didn't win, it would somehow be my fault.

I flipped on the news to ease my mind. The local news anchor wore a Falcon's polo and my fingers jerked to switch it off. Our PR coordinator was doing an excellent job putting us out there. I couldn't help but think it was a double-edged sword. The more fans that knew about us, the more people we could disappoint with a loss.

The Panthers were a good team, making it farther in the playoffs last year than we did. They had a solid coach, but they lost their star player to the majors. I hoped they had yet to replace him.

I read over their stats online. It was nothing new, only last year's stats pulled up as the season had yet to start. I helped myself to a large bowl of stale cereal. I figured it had to be better than just not eating.

Brady's door opened and closed just after sunrise and I chastised myself.

"I'm sorry I woke you," I told him as he slowly made his way into the room.

"I was up." He said, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. If I was nervous about this game, I couldn't even imagine how Brady was feeling. He was one of our stars. Coach Matthew said it often. He had a great arm and sharp eyes. We were lucky to have him.

Brady helped himself to the cereal I had left out and after his first bite spit it out in the sink. He poured the rest down the drain. I should've done the same. I looked at my empty bowl and felt a gurgle in my stomach. I slid off the counter washing my bowl out.

"I have to be there early. I'll probably leave around 10:30. Can you get a ride from someone else?" I asked wiping my spoon dry.

"Alright if I just go with you? I'd rather be there waiting then here waiting."

I told him that was fine and then excused myself for the bathroom.

After a long hot shower, I stood staring at the clothes I had picked out the night before. An off-orange shirt and jeans was the closest thing to red and yellow that I had. I held it up to myself, looking in the mirror. Orange wasn't my color either. It was a no. I went for my normal work attire. A knee length black pencil skirt and a faded blue blouse.

I knew people would be there in flip flops and tank tops, but this was my job. I wanted to maintain a certain image, like how college basketball coaches wore fines suits to every game. I went light on the makeup and heavy on the deodorant. As if I wasn't already sweating enough from nerves, today was forecasted to be a scorcher.

I emerged from my room, briefcase in tow. Brady sat on the back of the couch, in sweats and a cut out tee shirt. Despite the bags under his eyes, he looked good. His nervous ticks were even at bay. He was doing better than me.

I drove slowly thinking it would help me ease myself into the excitement. Like dipping a toe into the pool. It did the opposite, every mile closer to the stadium I saw more people proudly sporting Falcon's apparel. When I pulled into the stadium parking lot, there was more red than black on the pavement.

I let Brady out by the team doors before I parked, worried someone might see him and start shouting or harassing him. I didn't think they would do it viciously, but they just might get in his head the wrong way. No one would recognize me. I moved with quick steps to the doors, my briefcase banging against my thigh with every step.

The air was filled with laughs and smoke. Burgers hit grills with a sizzle while baseballs flew. I heard more than a little Panthers trash talk and couldn't stop my smile. The town really rallied behind this team, it was incredible. I think I went to a game once in high school, but it was only because the tickets were free, and the other team was really hot. Now people paid parking fees just to tailgate inside the stadium gates.

I paced back-and-forth at the door checking my watch every five minutes. Did they get an accident? Were they okay? Did they get lost? The Panthers were supposed to be here 10 minutes ago. I heaved out a relieved sigh when I saw their bus pull in. I pushed open the door and forced a smile.

The bus doors swung open, cool air tingling my skin, the Panthers coach stepped out first.

"Coach Garrison! I'm Danny, we spoke on the phone." I took his hand into both of mine shaking it. This was the first opposing coach I had met, and I wanted to make a good impression. I wanted him to tell Coach Matthew that he felt welcomed and helped when he was here. All thanks to me.

"Danny. Good morning. Sorry we're running a bit behind here, but the bus had trouble getting through all these tents" He gestured to the crowded parking lot behind him. Shouting fans leaned up against the fence on the other side of the bus, they were trying to catch glimpses of the rival.

"I apologize" I made a note to take care of that for future games. Already off to a rough start, I directed him through the main doors. I pointed out their locker rooms, the amenities we had left for them; water jugs, an extra physical therapist, towels, chalkboards, and gear polish. I showed him and his team around our facilities and offered them access to all of them. His team behind him mostly wore headphones large and overwhelming on their heads. I knew they couldn't hear me, but I was still nervous to speak in front of the crowd.

"Just as you requested, the field will be open at 12 for you to warm up. I took the liberty of putting a couple fans in your dugout. It's supposed to be a hot one and I think it might be worth the background noise to use them. Please don't hesitate to ask me for anything else." I turned from Coach Garrison to his team. "Good luck out there!"

It was barely 11:30 and once again I found myself with nothing to do so I reverted to pacing up and down the halls. I checked my phone incessantly. No new calls, No new messages, not even a spam email.

Some fresh air will do me good. I nodded to myself and crossed the massive underground building the locker rooms were housed in. I worked my way up the stairs, each step on the concrete let out a loud ringing in the halls, echoes filling the stairwell.

I flashed my badge at the security guard station at the field doors and walked out.

Even before the game, it smelled like baseball. Like sweat and popcorn and dirt and chew. I slipped my heels off not wanting to ruin the perfectly groomed field. I didn't dare step on the pitcher's mound, instead, I walked around it in a big circle. This was a sacred place.

I looked up and out. This is what Brady would see, to the right and left were stands for fans, straightforward behind home was a high chain link fence for balls and fouls. I felt like I could conquer the world here.

The scoreboard let out a big ring, and I saw that it had been reset. Over the stadium's loudspeaker a voice said 'sorry' at my frazzled state. I waved a hand to say it was okay. it was probably the announcers setting themselves up, getting used to the various buttons and buzzers.

Buzzing in my pocket had me pull out my phone. A text from Delilah. Good luck on your first real day! I won't be able to make it but thank you anyways. I had known it would've been a longshot for her to come. Most of Rachel's profits came from crowds coming to our games. She needed to be there for that, make sure everything ran smoothly. It didn't stop me from leaving her tickets and it wouldn't stop me from doing it at every game this season.

The time flashed on my screen, 11:45. Fans were being let in the stadium's doors now. Shoes still dangling from my hands, I hurried back into the building not wanting to have my private moment shared. Cool air washed over me as I reentered the building. I had barely noticed how hot it was out there. I pulled my shirt so it wasn't in contact with my sweating skin and made my way to the Falcon's locker room.

Before I opened the door, it pushed right into me. Coach Matthew apologized for hitting me before storming out past me, his team in tow. For the first time, they looked like a real team. Formidable foes. White pants, black socks, red falcon jerseys. They looked more like an army than a team. Every face solemn and focused, ready for war. I didn't want to interrupt any thoughts, so I moved out of the way and stayed quiet though my mind screamed to them 'good luck!'

I found my way to the box where the team's professionals would watch each game. I plopped down in a seat between Greg and Andrea standing as the national anthem started. Sang beautifully by the local middle school's choir, it brought tears to my eyes. Everything rode on this next moment. I felt my pulse quicken, my breathing slow as the Falcons took the field. Brady finding his spot on the mound.

He threw out some warning throws to his first and second basemen, his arm a whip, the ball moving faster than I could follow. He lowered his head, eyes disappearing behind his hat.

I couldn't breathe. His leg rose into the air, his arm pulling back, his body open wide and then like a crack of lightning it all happened at once. The ball was out of his hand and in the catcher's mitt. The batter was still swinging when the umpire shouted "Strike One"

Brady pitched an incredible game and at 6 to 1 in the fifth inning, Coach Matthew benched him, telling him to rest his arm up. Brandon replaced him and while he didn't have the tenacity that Brady had, he led the team to a comfortable win, 8 - 4.

We f*****g won.

Andrea cheered beside me and nudged me out of my seat. We made our way down to the field to group with the team. I went along feeling silly, why we were out here when they had just gone back inside?

"It's tradition," she told me, "They come back out." I nodded. I supposed it made sense, coming back to relish in the win, feel that pride again.

The team filed out the doors taking the field again, still in uniforms, but hats were turned backward, and jerseys were untucked. They all walked in sync, smiles gracing each face, they gathered around the mound. Andrea pulled me with her, moving us to stand behind Coach Matthew, who faced the team. "1 down, 76 to go." He said his voice loud, his face spread in a grin. Jamie, his assistant coach handed him a bottle of champagne.

Coach gave him a thank you nod and turned to the team again, shaking the bottle violently in his hands. The team pulled their phones out, pointing them at the coach. Coach pulled the foil off the cork and shook the bottle again.

"Go -" He flicked the cork out of the bottle with his thumb, champagne sprayed out, dousing the team "Falcons!" He raised his voice into a shout and turned around, letting the last of the bottle spray over us.

Around me, it was all laughs. I noticed that the stands hadn't entirely emptied yet, people had stayed to watch this bizarre ending. I couldn't help but think it was overkill. We had won a single game against a mediocre team. Had we earned this?

The newly soaked team waved to the crowd before returning to the locker rooms. Coach Matthew took a swig out of the bottle and handed it to me.

"Savor it,", he told me "this one will taste sweeter than others." I took a pull from the bottle and then gave it to Andrea's outstretched hand.

"What do you mean?" I asked him.

"After a loss, I think it tastes bitter. Like it's mocking me." He said turning to face me as we headed inside.

"You do that after a loss?" I asked, dumbfounded.

"After every game. Win or lose." He saw my confused look and continued.

"Back in the eighties, we didn't get fans, we didn't get sponsors. The team was bad, and the stadium was pitiful. The Falcons switched owners to Dave in '87. Dave said that we needed an uplift. He brought champagne to the first game under his ownership. They lost 4-0 but he celebrated with them after sharing the bottle. They only won one game that year, but Dave brought champagne to every game." He opened the door for me and I slipped through it, entranced in his tale.

"It worked. It lit a fire under the team, made them want to taste the sweet stuff after a win, not another bitter sip. We never stopped doing it. Dave insists on it. Hell, last year he bought shares in the company we buy it from. It's what we do. Champagne and Baseball."

I licked my lip, pulling some residual champagne off it. It did taste sweet.