Extra Innings

[roncollins]

Extra Innings
Written by Casey Neal
Daily Log of a Fresh-faced College Graduate
June 5, 2013

The hotel is empty when I wake up this morning. No Don-o. No Don-o's duffel full of moldy clothes. I look out the window to scan the parking lot and I see the place we had parked Annie is empty.

"Son of a ..." I whisper. Then I see the note.

Casey-dude,

Gotta go, man. Gotta go 'cause there's nothing for me back home. Sorry to leave like this, but I knew I couldn't do it if you was up. I gotta find a stream of baseball to sit in. You see that, right? You know me now, so I hope you ain't too upset. I put a bus ticket on my card, so you got a ride home waitin' on you. But there's nothin' for me in Duluth, and Annie and I, we headed west. I'm thinking a touring minor league ball for a bit, or maybe Mexico. That would be hella, wouldn't it? Or I hear ball in Japan is awesome. That would be a blast. Wonder if Annie and I can stow away on a tanker or something? Even money we can make it.

It was a great trip, dude. You da man. Ride that book contract as far as that sucker’ll take you, ‘k? But remember; you always da man to me.

-- Don-o

It's written on paper from the hotel in Omaha, so I know he's been planning this for a bit. It makes me mad for just a moment. Jerk-hole sends me home on a bus. Then I get an image of him and Annie riding west, or winding through whatever roads they got in Mexico or Japan, and hell if it just doesn't feel right. I've never been able to stay mad at Don-o for more than thirty minutes anyway, so I don't see no reason to start now. Don-o is where he needs to be, and I can be honest with myself and say that I can't make it there. I don't mind the road none, but I need something more firm than a vagabond stream of hotels and the power of baseball to sustain me.

So I get myself together and head to the bus station. I read my diary on the bus. It's a freakin' strange feeling to think about our tour of the PEBA. I feel so different sitting in that bus. It's more than the idea that I gotta plan. It's bigger. I feel the world connected to me now, like I could reach out these Greyhound windows and make something happen.

We're just getting to the Chippewa Forest when Jeremy Spade calls. It says something that I'm not actually surprised to be talking to the owner of a big league franchise. He says he understands I'm writing some kinda story and might need to get to London to finish it out. I say yeah, that's true, and he says the Trendies are going to the UK in late July, and would I want to join the team for a three-day series? I, of course, say sure, but I hear the puppet strings going off in the background. Jeremy Spade is in the news every day for some kind of escapade – drunk at a party one night, complaining about service the next, dumping his chick of the week one weekend, flying to Brazil for the women's beach volleyball championship the next. He talks in an over-the-top tone of voice that raises hackles.

But sure, I'll go with the Trendsetters. That would be a great end to my book, and I need an end. So I tell him yeah, I would go, and thanks a hella lot. He says it's no problem; it's the least he can do for a guy who saved his team, the league, and very well his life. He asks about Don-o. I tell him Don-o's at a game and he doesn't even ask nothin' further about him. "Okay," he says. "I'll have my assistant book your flights." "Cool," I say, and then we're done.

I sit quietly for a moment and watch the pine trees fly past the window. I think about Don-o's note and a phrase that's been bothering me. "There's nothin’ for me in Duluth." That's what he said. Suddenly, the knowledge that I'm going to London town makes it ring truer than a Jason Kirkland swing. Duluth's got the Warriors, and that's cool and all, though it looks like they'll be sucking in the lower division again this year. My mom's there, but unless I wanna move sofas for a living, I'm really done. I'm going to London town. It feels good to know I got somewhere to go other than Duluth, even though I know it can't be London in the end. I'm moving, you see. I'm traveling down the road and the trees are sliding by the window. I'm gonna write this book of mine, and I'm moving, moving like Don-o is moving, moving and going somewhere that I now know is most definitely is not the Sofa Center.

[John]

Looks like the Underground are going to get their moment in the sun after all.

[Arroyos]

Looks like the Underground are going to get their moment in the sun after all.

Don't you think the bright light and fresh air will just confuse them?

[Denny]

I thought for sure Casey would at least hear from Mezzy again once he turned out to be a hero! Les Femmes are so fickle...

[Bill]

Dammit. I think I just lost both of our fans.

I don't need your money anyway! (rassin' frassin' little punks....)