November 18^th, 2019

The clubhouse was quiet when he stepped in, drinking in the familiar sights, not bothering to switch on the full lighting. He sat at his locker breathing deeply, remembering the memories. It was 12 years ago that he was first given this locker, he was a raw rookie then, they all were. It was the first year of a new league, the Planetary Extreme Baseball Association, and he had been taken 79^th overall in the inaugural draft. Everybody had been so nervous, not only a new team but a new league and they carried the hopes of a continent in it. Wembley had been newly converted for baseball and he was a young keen 22-yr-old anxious to make his mark in the game.

As the years went on he did make his mark, four All-Star appearances, eight years amongst the top 10 closers in the league, an IL Shutdown Reliever Award and now … Glancing down at his hand he admired the glint in the half darkness of his 2018 PEBA Championship ring. “The boy done well” he thought. Twelve years later he had achieved everything he set out to do as that raw rookie, yes he would have liked to have won more, who wouldn’t have but he was satisfied. He just didn’t want it to end like this. London was the only club he had ever known and they had spurned him, tossed him aside without a second glance. “Yes the aches & pains are more every morning but I know I can still do it, doesn’t five saves from six play-off outings prove that? Doesn’t just two hits and no runs given up in the pressure cooker of play-off baseball prove that? “

Slowly he put the last few effects into the holdall. Does 12 years constitute a lifetime? It certainly feels like one. Sure in the free agent cattle market he would have several suitors and no doubt would find himself lining up somewhere in the PEBA in 2020 but it wouldn’t be London. He was the last of many, the last of all those that built the London franchise from nothing. He stood up and looked round the room hearing the voices again, seeing the familiar players there once more. Orlando Germán next to him, Robert Collins the other side,  Ramón Escobar further to the left, Millard Moore over on the other side causing havoc as always with the free swinging Aaron Morrison rising to his constant baiting and Terry Clark trying to keep the peace. They’re all gone now, he’s the last of London’s class of 2007, the last of the first. He didn’t want to move away from the locker, didn’t want to set in motion the chain of events that would close out his 12 years.

Finally he had to do it. He turned sharply on his heels, walked quickly out of the locker room and through the maze of Wembley’s service tunnels. Into the grey London haze as he crossed the car park for the last time. Luis Mora has left the building, the last member of the first London squad had finally left.

Thank you Luis for all those saves, those K’s, those victories … those memories