Psycho smirked. “I’m Olympic freestyle, old man, and you’re dog-paddling.”
Law shook his head. The men were betting on who would get his wife pregnant first. He watched as Psycho collected money from those in the baby pool. Psycho would later deposit the money in a savings account.
Psycho looked at Risk. “You’re paying for my son’s Harvard education.”
“You’ll have all girls.” Risk’s prediction made Psycho shudder. “You’ll go to ballet recitals and play with dolls while I attend my son’s sporting events.”
“Bullshit.” Psycho flipped Risk off. “I won’t do Swan Lake or Barbie.”
“I can picture you at a tea party,” Romeo said. “A pink boa around your neck, pearl necklace, fake press-on nails.”
“Asshole.” Psycho shot the third baseman a dark look.
Law stood silently, taking it all in. Times had drastically changed. Not so long ago, the locker room echoed with talk of sports, booty calls, bars, and fast cars. Now fertility was the hot topic. The men were turning OB-GYN. It was weird as hell. Law couldn’t wrap his head around the conversation. He had nothing to contribute.
“Boxers drop my stones,” Chase Tallan grunted as he shucked his navy polo and jeans. He stood in loose blue cotton. “Jen swears Jockeys hold too much heat.”
“You’ve got to let your boys breathe,” put in Psycho, a known nudist. The man had never worn underwear.
Chaser frowned. “My wife drained our hot tub. I’m sworn to cold showers.”
First baseman Rhaden Dunn sauntered into the locker room and took up the conversation. “It’s abstinence at my house until Revelle ovulates.”
Law listened with one ear as the men talked basal body temperature and fertility charting. They were definitely into their women. Brek gave his opinion on prenatal vitamins and folic acid while Romeo and Psycho moved to baby names: Axle McMillan worked for Psycho, but not for his wife, Keely; Romeo favored MacGyver, Mannix, or Magnum. His spouse had pulled the plug on all TV reruns.
Law found it unsettling. He missed the old locker room rants, rages, and sex talk. Single players were in the minority this season, and he felt odd man out.
“Jacy’s grandmother recommended Geritol for getting pregnant,” Risk announced.
Psycho stood naked before God and his teammates. “Sounds like an old wives’ tale.”
Romeo cut Psycho a look. “Bet you’re the first to buy a bottle.”
Psycho rubbed his stomach. “I’ll admit I’ve had cravings—red licorice and black olives.”
The ballplayers looked at him as if he’d lost his mind. Psycho pulled a face and stepped into his jock.
Amid it all, Law sucked air. He’d heard enough. If he listened any longer, his ears would bleed. He looked at Brody, who’d gone as white as the locker room walls. They weren’t in the same place as the married veterans. Brody ran free and Law didn’t do serious.
The very thought of a wife and kids proved the best contraception. Law practiced safe sex. He knew Brody packed Trojans. The kid’s wallet bulged with rubbers.
“Ladies, get your ovaries onto the field.” Coach Jared Dyson looked pointedly at Psycho as he passed through the room. A barrel-chested man with a tough-eyed stare, he was all baseball. “Hurry the fuck up.”
Law ran his hand through his hair and slapped on his baseball cap. He realized he was in need of a cut. His hair was almost long enough to tie back. Team owner Guy Powers never complained about the length of a player’s hair, though. He was more concerned about production.
Law nodded to Brody. “I’m gone.”
Brody beat him to the door. Both men jogged down the tunnel toward the dugout. The remaining players showed within minutes and started their warm-ups. All thoughts quickly shifted from baby-making to kicking Raptor ass.
One fifteen. Home field, packed house.
A local recording artist sang the national anthem.
The Rogues took the field.
Play for both teams ran clean and competent; neither made mistakes or errors. The only confrontation came during the seventh-inning stretch when the mascots faced off.
That’s when Ottawa’s Rappy—an enormous bird with a wide wingspan and large, yellow plastic feet—drew a line in the dirt near home plate and dared the Rogues’ Rally Ball to cross it.
Rally was a big white baseball with red stitching. The costume’s leg- and armholes showcased long red-and-blue-striped sleeves and matching tights. Rally Ball had rolled and belly-butted the bird. Rappy then wing-slapped Rally.
The Richmond fans roared, threatening to pluck feathers. The home plate umpire separated the mascots with a warning of ejection. Both moved to their respective dugouts. Rally Ball glared over his round shoulder and Rappy spiked his yellow middle finger.
Following the disruption, the Rogues came to bat. The players’ appearances were punctuated by musical selections. The songs were cranked to the max as the batters moved from the on-deck circle to home plate.
Psycho took his walk to “Crazy Train” by Ozzy Osbourne.
“Rock You Like a Hurricane” by the Scorpions gave Romeo focus.
Van Halen’s “Jump” made Chaser’s heart pump.
Kason made his statement with “Who Let the Dogs Out?” by Baha Men. The fans erupted with woof, woof, woof.
Psycho managed a single, but the other Rogues fanned air. Richmond again took the field. The game was now the pitcher’s battleground.
Brek Stryker was on the mound for the Rogues. Diligent and precise, his ninety-six-mile-an-hour fastball dropped consecutive batters. Profanity and frustration accompanied each Raptor back to the dugout.
Overhead, summer heat stole into May, and the sun bleached the sky white. The players grew hot, sweaty, and irritable over their inability to score.
Psycho punched Romeo and Chaser in the biceps to motivate them. Romeo grunted and Chaser slugged him back. The men curled their lips and narrowed their eyes dangerously. They were mad at themselves for not bringing it. They began to battle harder.
Bottom of the eighth and the Rogues needed a rally. Brody hit fifth in the lineup, followed by first baseman Rhaden Dunn. Law batted seventh.
“Start us off,” Law shouted to Brody as the shortstop strutted to the batter’s box. “This Is Why I’m Hot” by MIMS blasted from the speakers.
Law pushed off the bench and moved to the railing for a better view. He stood to the left of Psycho, who chewed grape Dubble Bubble. Law was always amazed that Psycho’s enormous bubbles didn’t pop in his face.