For Love of the Game
Chapter 2: The Good...
By Guinevere
Disclaimer: I own some of the characters, but I don't own any of the Dawson's Creek characters, nor do I own any of the real MLB players. I own the concept of this story, but I don't own the title. What I own is pretty much nothing.
Pacey was in a deep sleep, and enjoying it, when he began to hear his name. Someone was shaking him, and telling him to wake up. The voice was Joey, and it was her hands doing the shaking.
"Pacey! Wake up!" Joey yelled as a last effort, trying to get him to wake up.
Pacey's eyes shot open, and he half sat up. "What...?" he asked confused. He listened as Joey pointed to the radio that sat beside him.
"In other news this morning, the roster for the upcoming All-Star game has been announced. Taking the mound for the American League will be Pedro Martinez in his twelfth appearance for the Red Sox. Also appearing for the Red Sox will be Sal Tocci as an relief pitcher, Shawn Becker as the second baseman, Wilton Veras as alternate third baseman, Troy O'Leary as outfielder, and no surprise to anyone, Pacey Witter as shortstop for the American League."
It took a moment for the words to register any meaning in Pacey's head. He froze and then jumped up. He wasn't sure what to do. "I...It's...my God Joey, I did it!! I'm playing in the All-Star game!!"
Joey, by then was standing too, and took Pacey's hand. "I know, you're playing Pacey!"
Pacey started shaking Joey's hand, took the other, and shook it too. "Good God, I'm playing! Joey, I'm playing! I've got to call Mom, and Doug, and Jen, and Jack, and Dawson, and....everybody! Joey, I'm playing in the game!"
"Calm down slugger, I know. Your shaking my arms off!"
"Sorry," Pacey dropped her hands. "I'm officially an All-Star. This is so great. I wish Dad were here." Pacey's smile faded as he thought of how proud his father would have been.
"So do I. He would be so happy Pace." When Pacey had begun playing baseball, he and his father began communicating again. They had transcended the past, and become best friends. John Witter had died three years ago of skin cancer, and Pacey hadn't been the same since.
"Okay, enough of that. I have to call Mom." Joey passed Pacey the phone and he dialed. "Mom? Are you awake?"
The groggy voice on the other end took a moment to reply. "Yes Pacey, I am now."
"Mom, you'll never believe it."
"Never believe what? You aren't going to make me guess, are you?"
"No, 'cause you wouldn't believe it. I, your son Pacey, was picked to be the starting shortstop in the All-Star game."
His mother shot upright in her bed and almost dropped the phone. "You what?!?"
"I'm playing in THE game," Pacey was trying to sound as nonchalant as possible.
"My son, Pacey Witter? This isn't some sick joke, is it Pacey?"
"No Mom, I'm playing. Here, talk to Joey while I go call Doug." Pacey handed the phone to Joey
"Hi Mrs. Witter."
"Oh stop, will you please? Maggie, Joey, call me Maggie. I've been telling you that for years. Now, is my boy serious?"
"Yes, very serious. Turn on the morning news. I'm sure Mrs. Leery will say something about it."
"All right, hold on one moment." Joey waited, and she could hear Pacey yelling at Doug from the kitchen.
"No dipwad, I'm serious! Yes, I'm playing!" Pacey yelled at his older brother. Joey had to laugh at him.
"Joey?" Maggie asked, coming back on the phone.
"I'm here."
"Gail just said that Pacey was playing in the game. She's crying on-air! I can't believe it, my son." Maggie sounded like she was starting to cry herself.
"He did very well."
"Just think Joey! Pacey, our Pacey, was picked by millions of people as their favorite shortstop. That makes a mother very proud of her son."
"You're telling me. I'm so proud I could burst."
"If only John were here, he'd be so pleased." Again, there was a silent moment as both remembered.
"Joey, Joey, Joey!! I'm playing!" Pacey came running in to the room and took the phone from her.
"Mom, I'll call you later, I have to call everyone else. Oh, and when Doug calls, convince him I was telling the truth."
"I will. Congratulations Pacey."
"Thanks Mom. 'Bye." Pacey pressed the 'off' button and threw the phone on the bed. He picked up Joey and started spinning around. "I feel like I've won the lottery. This is so awesome!"
"It is that. I'm getting kind of dizzy Pace, could you put me down?" Pacey stopped spinning, but didn't let her go.
"I feel like I'm forgetting something." Pacey stopped to think, and then remembered where he had to go. "Dr. Johnson's office." Pacey put Joey down, and sat on the edge of the bed.
Joey noticed his sudden change in attitude. She sat beside him and put her arm around him. "Don't let that get in the way. You've finally gotten the ultimate proof that you've always wanted. You are a good player, so don't let some tests ruin it."
"You're right. I'll deal with that when I get there. Right now I have to get dressed, call everyone else, and go down to the field. Johnson can wait until nine o'clock."
"That's the spirit Wit," Joey playfully punched Pacey and he grinned back.
"You sound just like Nomar did last night."
"He and I, we're cut from the same cloth I guess. Neither of us can bear to see you in anything but good spirits."
"Do you know how much I love you?"
"No, I don't think I know exactly how much. You going to tell me?"
Pacey spread his arms out as far as he could. "See this much? Double that, multiply it by infinity, and that's how much I love you."
Joey laughed and kissed his forehead. "You are such a dork Pacey."
"And you love me. But hey, at least I've got a sense of humor."
"That you do. Go on, get dressed so we can go."
"What disguise should I wear today?" It was common for Pacey to wear a hat, sunglasses and a t-shirt with a team that no one knew so that he wouldn't be recognized.
"I'm thinking you should go out as Pacey today, and bask in your glory for once. Jeans, white t-shirt and a Boston hat."
"I like your thinking Potter. That's a good idea."
"What can I say, I'm not just a literary genius, but an all-around genius. Now hurry up."
"Yes ma'am!" Pacey saluted, and dashed for the bathroom.
Joey stepped into the closet and pulled down a pair of jeans, a white t-shirt and Pacey's baseball hat. Nothing wrong with a little team-spirit, especially when he was going to make his statement of gratitude. She placed the clothes on the bed and went down to the kitchen just as the phone began to ring.
"Hello?" Joey asked, picking up the phone
"Hi Joey, is Pacey there, or is he out in the middle of the street screaming?" It was Shawn Becker, Pacey's best friend, and he had obviously heard the news.
Joey laughed, "Hey Shawn, congrats are in order. And no, Pacey's here, but he's in the shower. Hold on and I'll go get him."
"No, that's okay, I'll call later."
"Okay, I'll tell him you called."
"Wait, Joey, um...do you think he'd mind if I came with you guys?" Pacey had told Joey the night before that only Pappas, Jimy and Nomar knew anything about his visit to Dr. Johnson.
"How did you know?"
"I overheard Pappas telling him."
"Not to be interrogative, but how could you overhear if you were on base?"
"It was right before I went up to the plate. All I know is that he has to see a doctor today about a tumor."
"Good ears Becker. I don't think he'd mind if you came. When are you going down to make your statement?"
"I'm leaving in about half an hour. When are you guys going?"
"As soon as I'm dressed. We'll meet you there?"
"I'll be waiting."
"Bye."
"Bye Joey."
"Who was that?" Pacey asked entering the room in just his jeans.
"Shawn. He wants to come to Dr. Johnson's with us."
"How did he know about it?"
"He overheard you guys before he went up to bat. You really should inform Pappas that his voice carries, especially in the dugout."
"I'll remember that. You said yes?"
"Yeah, is that okay?"
"It's fine. I would have had to tell him eventually, so I guess it's better this way."
"He's meeting us at the field. I'm going to get dressed now, so try to contain yourself while I'm gone," Joey grinned and kissed him on her way by.
Pacey picked up the phone the second he heard the bathroom door shut and dialed Jen's number.
"Hello?" the groggy voice asked.
"Good Morning Jen Lindley!" Pacey yelled in a perfect imitation of Robin Williams in 'Good Morning, Vietnam'.
"Go to bed Pacey. Leave me alone."
"Sorry, no can do. Turn on the tv; ESPN, NESN, Fox News, CNN, anything!"
"Okay, just stop yelling." There was a pause as Jen got up from her bed and turned on the tv. Then, "What am I looking for? Jockeys, race cars, Michael Jordan playing golf - again. If there's any relevance to our everyday lives here, I'm out of the loop."
"Wait one more second..." as Pacey listened attentively to Jen's tv, he could
hear Jilly crying. "Wake up Old Man John and tell him to get Jilly. You still watching?"
"Yes, I'm watching. John, Jilly's crying."
Pacey could hear John mumbling and then he heard it: Jen's breath caught. Two seconds later, Jen seemed to be hyperventilating. "Breathe Lindley, breathe."
"You....good Lord....you...Pacey....Witter...you're....Pacey....All-Star..."
"Yes, yes, very good. Now say it with me: Pacey, you're playing in the All-Star game." Pacey laughed as he coached, knowing that if either Jen or Joey were near, they'd slap him.
"You're playing! My friend Pacey is the starting shortstop for the American League in the All-Star game. John! Pacey got it! He's playing!" Then Jen seemed to come back to reality. "You moron! You called me at 6 in the morning for this? You woke up Jilly for this?"
"Actually, 6:45, and yes, I did. Do you hate me?"
Jen laughed in spite of herself. "Yes, you're a horrible, no good, awful person Pacey Witter. So, who have you called?"
"Mom, Doug, you. That's it."
"Pacey, this is so awesome. Doesn't it make you want to run out in the middle of the street screaming?"
"Yes, but I have express orders to contain myself while Joey's in the shower. Can't disobey her, you know that."
"Yeah, I agree with her on that. No doubt you'd be terrorizing Boston if she didn't keep a tight leash on you."
"Hey, I'm a good boy...usually."
"Oh really? What about the one thousand bats in the Ice House parking lot when you made the team? And what about that wild party you had when Brock signed you? Or the spray-painted 'Witter Rocks' on Main Street in front of the police station when you found out you were playing in that major league game? Seems to me that you get crazy only when it involves baseball."
"Those are bad examples. Have a little faith in me Jen, I'm twenty-two now."
"The older you get, the crazier get, in my opinion. Just make sure the door is locked so your evil side can't get loose."
Pacey heard the beep, signaling someone on the other line. "I have no evil spirit. I've got to go now, someone's on the other line."
"All right, call me later."
"Will do. 'Bye."
"'Bye Witter."
Pacey pushed the button that would take him to the other line and said,
"Hello?"
"Witter, how does it feel?" Of course, it was Nomar, who had played in eight All-Star games himself.
"It feels mighty nice Nomar. On your first time, did you feel like you had just broke a world record?"
"Won the Olympics, swam the English Channel, set a world record, and raced the Tour de France, all in one. What you've got is nothing."
"I don't know; this is an amazing feeling."
"And it only gets better. Wait until you're playing among the greats. And be assured, every retired baseball player that ever mattered will be watching you, thinking either your awful, or your the best thing since Babe Ruth. What's the g- Joey think?"
"She's excited, maybe even more than I am because she can forget about the tumor until it's time to face it."
"Don't let that bring you down, forget about it until your sitting in the doctor's office, waiting to go in."
"Joey said basically the same thing."
"What can I say? We share a common telepathic wavelength."
"Too true."
"I've got a question for you kid."
"What?"
"When are you going to pull your head out of your ass and ask Joey to marry you? If I was five years younger, and not married myself, I'd have a ring on her finger in two seconds flat."
"It's not that easy. I'm waiting for the right time."
"Six years isn't long enough? You've been going out with her for six years! I asked Hilary to marry me after six months."
"I've got the ring, so it's not like I don't know that she's the one. I just don't know when to do it. Maybe you're right, maybe I should do it. Let's just drop it for now, okay?"
"Okay. So, what's the statement?"
"Haven't thought about it yet. I'm going down as soon as Jo's ready though, so I better get cracking. Any suggestions?"
"Make sure you thank the millions who voted for you. Never forget that part."
"No way could I forget them."
"Good luck, in both places today. Let me know how it goes with Johnson."
"I will. 'Geez, you've got good timing, Joey's coming down the stairs right now."
"I'm punctual. See you later Wit."
"Yeah, talk to you later. 'Bye."
Joey came in fully dressed with a pair of Pacey's sneakers in hand. "Since you're going as Pacey Witter today, you'd better wear these. Adidas does endorse your cleats, and you'd look pretty bad if you didn't wear them."
"Can't argue with that logic. I'll be down in a minute."
Joey picked up the phone and dialed Jack, figuring he should be the next to know, even if he had already heard it.
"Jack McPhee on the line," Jack said picking up.
"Jack, you really need something better. Try 'hello' next time."
"I might, but I like my way. So what's up?"
"Don't pretend you don't know McPhee."
"Hmm...what is it that I'm supposed to know? President Churchill passed another health care reform bill, the 2012 Olympics are going to be in Patagonia, and those damned Russians are at it again. That's all the current news I've heard."
"Sure, he who insists on getting up at 5:30 just to hear the news five times before work doesn't know what happened?"
"Oh yeah! The Backstreet Boys' new cd broke another record! Surprising, seeing how they now range in age from 26 to 35 and are all married with the average of 1.6 children among them."
"Jack..." Joey said getting annoyed.
"Okay, you got me," he paused and deepened his voice, "Pacey Witter, shortstop-extrodinaire and goldenboy-rookie for the Boston Red Sox has been voted as the first string shortstop for the American League in the 2005 Major League Baseball All-Star game. A round of applause for the man!"
"I knew you knew," Joey laughed.
"Yeah, well, kinda hard not to when you live in Boston and six of the hometeam's players have just been voted among the best. How is our scholar doing? Holed up in his room trying to write a statement of gratitude?"
Joey couldn't give away too much, because she couldn't tell Jack about the tumor. "He's jumping up and down, ranting and raving. He's like a little boy on Christmas morning. He is truly, sincerely happy."
"Wonderful. I can't believe I know the best, or at least most popular shortstop in the world. Every person in the Greater Boston area is going to be crazy today."
"True. You've got to go now, don't you?" Joey looked at her watch and noticed it said 7:05.
"I probably should if I'm going to make it by 7:45. I'll talk to you later, okay?"
"You bet."
"Tell Pacey beaucoup de felicitations."
"Many congrats; got it. Talk to you later McPhee."
"Bye Jo."
Joey hung up the phone and grabbed her keys and sunglasses, waiting for Pacey at the door. He came tearing down the stairs and flew by Joey in a hurry.
"What's the rush?" Joey asked following him out.
"We've got to be there before Jimy and Dan, or I'll be in hot water."
"Whatever you say. My car or yours?" Pacey stopped and contemplated, looking at his Volvo, then Joey's new BMW. "It really isn't that hard of a decision Pacey," Joey laughed at him.
"I know, I know. Let's toss for it." This was a regular occurrence when they were both going somewhere. Pacey took out a quarter and flipped it. "Call it in the air Jo."
"Heads."
Pacey opened his hand and saw the face of George Washington staring off to his left. "Your car it is. Hand 'em over Potter."
"No way. You are not driving. You are the most reckless driver in all of Massachusetts."
"Maybe in the state as a whole, but not in Boston alone. Here, I'm one of the best."
"Now that's a laugh. I'm driving."
"And get to Fenway tomorrow? Now way. Do I have to wrestle you for them?"
"Do as you wish, but I'm not giving them up without a fight."
"A fight? I'll just tickle you to death," Pacey said coming up behind Joey.
Joey quickly turned and gave him the keys. "Drive Witter."
******************************
"Beck!" Pacey yelled running down the hall with Joey trailing behind.
"Wit, took you long enough. Jimy and Dan will be here in, like, two minutes."
"He had to get the keys first," Joey said nearing them.
"I see. Written yourself a speech?"
"No, I thought I'd ad-lib it."
"You rebel."
"You mean to tell me you wrote something?"
"Like hell I did, what would I say in writing that I couldn't just say?"
"Come on, boys, let's get going," Joey called as she opened the door to the press room.
Flash bulbs exploded, notebooks opened, and microphones were shoved into their faces. When Pacey walked in, all attention turned to him. The boy who had won the hearts of America, and beat the aging Derek Jeter and the hurting Alex Rodriguez had entered the room.
"Pacey, how do you feel?" Marvelous, Pacey answered in his head.
"Pacey, did Nomar offer any words of advice?" Yes, but nothing I'm going to share with you, Pacey replied under his breath.
"Pacey, do you think this warrants a raise in your salary?" No, but even if it did, I wouldn't get it.
"Pacey, what are you going to do next?" Go to Dr. Johnson's office.
"Pacey, have you asked Joey to marry you yet?" Ah, now that's a question I like. Heck, I've got the ring, I might as well do it today.
"Pacey, what was Jimy's reaction?" I haven't seen him yet.
"Pacey, does this bring back memories of your father?" Sure does.
"Pacey, we've heard your seeing a doctor. Care to explain?" Nope.
"Pacey, no suit?" Shawn's not wearing a suit, but you didn't even bother to look at him.
"Pacey, why do you think you won?" Maybe I'm good, maybe I just look good. I don't know.
Pacey's mind began to overflow with the millions of questions asked all at once. He decided to play it cool. He made his way past the reporters and up to the stand where the microphones, and his teammates sat.
"Hello everyone," he began. He knew that every reporter in the room expected him to start by answering the questions thrown at him. He was going to throw them a curveball. "Jimy usually starts these press conferences, and he will, as soon as he gets here. I just wanted to take the stand early to point something out. Shawn Becker, a rookie, was chosen as the second baseman. Pedro Martinez, once known as the rocket, now known to many of us as Dad, is pitching for the twelfth time. Sal Tocci, another rookie, is pitching relief, not that Pedro will need it. Wilton Veras, who might I add is injured at the moment, is the alternate third baseman. Good 'ole Troy O'Leary is thirty-six, and he is the first-string outfielder. All attention turns to me when I walk in the room, but it should really stay on our vets. We're a team, not a group of hot-shots thrown into a room." Pacey took his seat, and looked around at the stunned reporters.
Bob Lancaster, the reporter from the night before stood. And instead of leaving, he began to clap. Joey was next; she stood and applauded. When Jimy Williams walked in, the entire room was giving Pacey a standing ovation.
"My reputation precedes me. Thank you Pacey, for whatever you said. Now, to begin this press conference. First, I'd like to say that this year I am retiring. I want to go out while my boys are on top, and this is the year to do it. Second, I want to applaud my team for an amazing sweep against the Yankees. That took a lot more than just luck. Third, congratulations to my six guys, Pedro Martinez, Troy O'Leary, Wilton Veras, Sal Tocci, Shawn Becker, and Pacey Witter. I'll let Pacey go first because I know he has to be somewhere."
"Thanks Jimy. I have to thank my father first, because without him, wouldn't be here today, and my friend Jen who helped me turn into the player I am. Thank you to all of my friends, teammates and coaches and to everyone in this great city of Boston who voted for me and my teammates. And last, but not least, thanks to my mother, and to the love of my life, Joey."
"Pacey!" A woman from the Boston Herald screeched, trying to get the first question.
"I'm sorry, I can't read your name tag."
"Polly Avery, Boston Herald. Do you think this is a sign to the powers that be to give you a raise?"
"Well Ms. Avery, let me answer that as truthfully as possible. I could care less if I was getting two cents, or two billion dollars, because I'm playing the game I love with the greatest guys anyone could ever hope to play with. Next?"
"Pacey!?!" A man's hand shot up in the back. "How does this make you feel?"
"This is an amazing feeling. Truly an indescribable, all very new set of emotions, reserved for such an honor. Next?"
"Pacey!! When's the big day?" a woman in the third row asked.
That was the lead-in he had been waiting for. He'd have to milk it for all it was worth. "Excuse me? 'Big day'?"
"Yes," another woman began, "Have you asked Joey to marry you yet?"
Pacey knew it was time, but he hadn't quite finished his plan. He looked to Joey, who winked - the sign to say or do whatever he wanted. He took that as an open invitation. He removed the microphone and began rummaging around in his pocket. He took out a black velvet box and made his way off the podium. "If you'll just give me a moment," he fiddled with the top until he had it open, then kneeled in front of Joey.
"Six years is a long time, to some people. But not to me. The past six years have gone by as if it was just yesterday that I first kissed you. And you must remember, the first time I really kissed you, not the kiss when we were five, was when we were fifteen. It's been actually seven years since then, and I have loved you more and more with each passing day. Joey, I want to spend the next six years with you, and the next six, and the next. I want you to become Josephine Witter, not only in heart, but in everything else. And I know, your cursing the day I was ever born for doing this in public, in front of everyone. I love you Joey, and you can rue the day for the rest of your life, but just think, this was all caught on tape. Joey Potter, will you marry me?"
Joey looked at Pacey, ready to commit, when Shawn caught her eye. He looked as though he would begin crying at any moment. Joey burst into laughter, with no apparent reason. Pacey looked at her concerned, then followed her eyes to Shawn. He too started to laugh until they were both in hysterics, leaving the rest of the room bewildered. When they had finally calmed down, Joey looked Pacey in the eye. She took his tear-stained face in her hands and kissed him.
Shawn stepped off the podium and took the microphone from Pacey's limp hand. "I think that's a yes," he said.
Joey grabbed the microphone from Shawn. "That's a definite yes," she told the world. She passed the microphone back and whispered in Pacey's ear, "I love you Mr. Witter."
"I love you too Joey," Pacey whispered back. Everything was as it should be. For the moment, nothing else mattered but the two of them together.
Neither of them knew, or could even imagine what was in store for them next.
To Be continued
