Page 151 of The Fall Classic

My jaw falls, there’s a collective gasp, and then a chorus of shrieks and boos issue from the crowd at the same time that I throw the bullpen door open. The sound in the stadium is so loud, I can’t even hear my own thoughts as I rush the field along with every other member of the Firebirds.

Kirby hit Coop in the head.

I’m running at full speed to check on my future brother-in-law and one of my best friends, but on the way, I see Kirby, and a blind rage overtakes me. The benches are clearing, and Kirby is already surrounded by players from both teams, but so help me, I’m going to drive my fist into that guy’s face or die trying.

I’m not aware of anything except keeping track of Kirby as I sprint across the field, adrenaline coursing through me, speeding me up faster than I’ve ever run before.

And that’s when I see someone else launch himself into Kirby before I can.

It’s Jake.

His fist smashes into Kirby’s face, and Kirby’s head snaps back. He stumbles before whipping around, trying to fight back, but Jake’s already on him. By the time I reach the mound, it’s an all-out brawl. The stadium volume is deafening, but the blood rushing in my ears is even louder. We’re all packed in so tight, there’s hardly room to wind up, let alone hit someone. Hands grab at me as I push and shove past players to try to get to Kirby. To pull Jake off of him so I can get a few swings in.

Before I can, though, the umps and managers are on the field, breaking things up, trying hard to cool things off. Someone gives me a shove and yells, “Knock it off!” I try to push past him, but then the guy’s hand smacks the back of my head.

It’s Joe.

“Cool it. You’re no use to us if you break your hand on some idiot’s face,” he barks.

“I don’t care,” I say, trying to peer past him. The fight between Jake and Kirby has been broken up, and the latter looks a lot worse for the wear. Jake’s grinning with a fat lip, but he looks more alive as he spits blood at Kirby, who’s being pulled back by his own coaching staff.

“Fischer, it’s done,” Joe says.

I stare at Joe before giving him a tight nod. Then he moves on to talk to the next moron, and I rush over to join Jake. “Good work,” I grunt over the roar in the stadium.

Jake’s chest is heaving with exertion. “Look at you, joining the throng. I thought you’d be too stuck in your head to get your legs moving.”

“Shut up,” I say, his words bugging me more than they should.

Lucas pushes over to us. I didn’t see where he was during the brawl.

“How’s Coop?” I ask as thunder shakes the stadium.

“Don’t know. They took him out on a stretcher,” Lucas says.

“Did it get past his helmet?” I ask.

“I don’t know,” Lucas says, more disturbed than I’ve ever seen him on the mound.

“If it hit his eye⁠—”

“What?” Jake interrupts with a slap to my chest. “If it hit his eye, what will you do? Worry him back to health?”

“Shut up, Rodgers,” I yell, wanting to hit him almost as badly as I still want to hit Kirby.

“Easy,” Lucas says, getting between us.

Before we can talk anymore, the entire coaching staff pushes us back from the mound, pulling Lucas to the dugout and pushing me toward the bullpen.

Everyone scatters except for Jake.

He should be on second, but the umps are looking at him, and an announcement goes over the stadium PA.

“Following the incident on the field, Chris Kirby and Jake Rodgers have been ejected from the game.”

The stadium boos louder than the thunder. I watch Jake jog off the field backward as a replacement runner comes in to take his place. When Jake spots me, he salutes. I curse under my breath at the idiot. I’m still humming from the adrenaline and worry over Coop, and now I get to add annoyance at Jake to the list.

Great.