Author's Note: Beyond what I read on the internet, I know nothing of either baseball or the Yankees. Please forgive any glaring inaccuracies. Thanks for reading!
June 12, 2009
He has one person left to call.
Roger Gunn dials Ira's number hopefully, his heart leaping when the other man picks up.
"Ira, it's Roger. Hey, I know this is kind of last-minute, but I have an extra ticket to the Yankees tonight and I was wondering if-"
"Sorry, man, I'm taking Natasha to the theater so no can do. Thanks, though! Another time, ok? Enjoy!"
"Sure. Catch you later."
Ira has already hung up. Roger, disappointed, drops the phone back into its cradle.
Who would have thought it would be so hard to find someone to take an extra ticket to the Yankees on a Friday night? They are playing the Mets, first game of the Subway Series and it is going to be great. He'd been looking forward to going with Dave. Obviously, Dave can't help it that his kid is sick and he'd been really sorry about cancelling, offering to pay Roger back for the ticket even though he wouldn't make it- not that Roger will take him up on it. No, Roger will go alone and he'll do his best to have a good time, even though the seat next to him will be depressingly empty.
He misses Maggie. The Yankees have always been their thing, his and Maggie's. Renee prefers football when she watches sports at all and Noelle, the family artist, has no interest in anything athletic, but his older daughter has always adored the Yankees as much as he does. Before the divorce, before Renee and the girls moved away, he and Maggie had gone together most Friday nights and he'd loved it, loved teaching her the finer points of the game and watching her cheer her lungs out for their team. They still make a point of going to Yankee Stadium during the girls' regular visits and they hold a postmortem via phone or email after noteworthy games, but much as he enjoys it, it isn't quite the same.
"Damn it," he mutters, glaring at the phone.
"Should I ask?"
He looks up to see Jill Carlan framed in the door. Shoot. He'd forgotten they had a meeting scheduled this afternoon.
"Sorry. Come in. It's nothing, it's just…well, I've got an extra ticket to the Yankees game tonight and it looks like I can't find anyone to take it."
The expression that comes over Jill's face reminds him of that of a golden retriever staring at a juicy hamburger.
"That's a sold-out game. You have a ticket?"
"Yeah, bought them a while ago. Great seats too. Right behind the third base line."
He doesn't think he has ever seen such longing in a woman's eyes.
"I didn't get there in time. I was thinking of trying the scalpers. Thank God A-Rod's stayed off the disabled list; I just hope he's on his game tonight."
"You're a Yankees fan?"
He is surprised. He's known the public defender for years, but they really only talk about work. He would not have figured Jill, fierce, focused, workaholic Jill, for a baseball fan but it seems he is wrong.
"Only since birth."
He considers for a moment. He doesn't often socialize with the opposition. Not that there's anything wrong with it, of course, but he doesn't want to spend the evening fighting over cases. He decides it's worth the risk if it means he doesn't have to go to the game by himself.
"I don't suppose you'd be interested in going with me?"
She is already pulling money out of her purse.
"Shall we meet at Chambers Street after work and head up? Or do you want to meet there? How much do I owe you for the ticket?"
They take the subway up to the Bronx together and by the time they reach the stadium Roger is no longer worried about the night devolving into work talk. She knows every statistic and shares his views on the lack of validity of fielding percentages and batting averages. They have a lively discussion about the chances for the World Series, who the MVP might be, and whether A-Rod deserves to be forgiven for his steroid use (both are disappointed by it, but she is slightly more willing to let bygones be bygones). They bond over their shared loathing of the Red Sox. By the top of the fourth inning he has to admit he is impressed by both her hot dog consumption (two, with a sheepish admission that she'd skipped lunch, and she doesn't even complain when she gets mustard on her white blouse) and the volume of her cheering when the Yankees are doing well and the creativity of her cursing when they aren't. By the bottom of the seventh he has already decided to ask her if she wants to go to watch them play the Nationals next week. Then it is the bottom of the ninth. The Mets are in the lead, but then Luis Castillo drops the ball, allowing Texeira and Jeter both to score runs, and the Yankees win gloriously, beating the Mets 9-8. It is probably the most exciting Yankees moment he has ever witnessed in person and, even though he is a rational man and knows that the fact that she is with him has nothing to do with it, as he rises to cheer along with the rest of the ecstatic crowd a small superstitious part of him wonders if her presence next to him is good luck. By the time they leave the stadium he is pretty sure that, unless he can go with Maggie, he doesn't want to go to Yankees games with anyone but Jill.
"So…I've got the same seats next Thursday. Interested?" he asks as they stand on the subway platform waiting for their respective trains.
"Absolutely!" she confirms. Her blue eyes are still sparkling with excitement and her blonde waterfall of hair is messier than he's ever seen it.
"I think that's the most incredible game I've ever seen. Thanks so much. This was great."
"It was," he agrees. Her train arrives with an earsplitting screech and with a quick "Good night, see you next week," she climbs aboard and it roars out of the station.
Roger's phone vibrates in his pocket and he pulls it out to see a text from Maggie. It reads simply "!" Grinning, he texts back, "! Is right! Wish you'd been here!" He does, wishes it immensely, but the ache of missing her after each game seems a bit more manageable than usual. He is already looking forward to next Thursday.