A/N: Howdy Cardinal fans. We're talking College Baseball TMI and this time we have the flip side to our previous TMI about the stitching on baseballs. Yup, that means we're talking about baseball bats. Before we start, we need to give a shoutout and thank you to the great people at Stanford TMI. Go with Stanford TMI, you won't be sorry. We're your hosts, Biff Roberts and Rob Bifford. So, what could we possibly have to say about baseball bats? Well, for starters, professional baseball uses wooden bats and amateur baseball uses metal bats, usually made out of aluminum alloy. Metal bats are hollow with a plastic cap at the end of the barrel. They can be machined to have the weight evenly distributed over the length of the barrel or more mass toward the end of the barrel or more mass toward the handle to promote varying hitting outcomes. Metal bats are allowed to weigh fewer ounces than their length. This difference is called 'drop'. College bats are permitted to have a drop value of -3 or less, so a 33-inch long drop 3 bat may weigh 30 ounces, a 33-inch long drop 2 bat would weigh 31 ounces, and so on. Lighter bats are easier and faster to swing through the strike zone leading to more contact with the baseball. Metal bats are more forgiving of poor swings compared to wooden bats. Another way to say it is that metal bats have a larger sweet spot than wooden bats. That makes for more hits and more runs in college baseball. It can also lead to hitters developing poor hitting mechanics that favor the metal bat's performance characteristics and hinder (or delay) their ability to hit successfully with wooden bats upon reaching the professional ranks. Prior to 2009 college baseball permitted composite bats, which incorporate a reinforced carbon fiber polymer or composite into the bat's construction, but they were banned due to the unsafe batted-ball exit speeds they could generate. Pitching successfully in college can be a big challenge given the greater effectiveness of the metal bats being used. There is a final element to this discussion concerning wooden bats that we'll save for a future TMI, but, for now, let's move on to the main event. That was a lot, Biff. You're telling me, Bob. Man, I could use a stiff drink after all that. Uh … Biff, your mic is hot. We're still on the air. Whoops! Talk about TMI! Well, there you have it, folks. Maybe there is such a thing as too much TMI, after all. Sheesh, Biff. That was lame. (Dead air)
Disclaimer: I shot my Chuck ownership into the air. It fell to earth, I know not where. For, so swiftly it flew, it left my sight. And my Chuck money did follow it in its flight. That's the poem. In prose it reads, I don't own Chuck and I make no money from Chuck. I'm not looking to quit my day job, so don't worry.
Chapter 28 – Another One Bites the Dust
March 22
It was getting late. After two weeks bereft of games due to the last week of classes and, then, finals, the baseball team had just played their first PAC-12 conference game, beginning their campaign for the title with a three-game set against the Utah Utes (named after a Native American tribe). Mac Henderson had a workman-like outing, earning the win. The big right-handed senior had finished with a pretty good stat line of 5 strikeouts to 1 walk and 7 hits that he managed to sprinkle across the 5 1/3 innings that he pitched resulting in just 3 runs, only 2 of them earned. A number of Utah batters, especially in the second inning, used their patience to force Mac to throw a lot of pitches which is what led to his relatively early exit when his pitch count hit 99 after the first out in the top of the sixth inning. The Stanford bullpen shutdown the out-of-town boys allowing only one more run in the top of the ninth for a final score of 7-4 in favor of the home nine.
Chuck and Sarah were walking hand-in-hand back to their dorm, taking the long way around. They'd not had a lot of time to spend together, both being busy with the crush of school work. Sarah had had papers and projects to complete, followed by studying for and taking her finals. For his part, Chuck was at critical junctures on all ten of his projects. He only had another four weeks before he had to begin work on his preliminary PhD research writeups. They had to be done in time for him to submit them for review, deal with any questions or issues, and get them approved by the end of finals for Spring Quarter on June 12. Assuming his preliminary work showed promise, he'd be able to pursue his research in earnest and the final stage of his academic career would kick into high gear. Somewhere in there he had to find the time to complete another patent application. And account for the amount of time his sport took up.
Between baseball and all of his research work, he had never been so busy in his life. It was beginning to wear on him. A random thought had taken hold, during one of his busiest days, that he was very fortunate to be a pitcher only. If Chuck had been a position player, playing every day, he'd never have the time or energy to get his project work done. At least, not to the insane levels he was dealing with currently. Strange how things worked out.
Now, the young couple were enjoying a few tired, but carefree, moments together walking the well-known paths across the Stanford campus. By the time Chuck had showered and changed back into his street clothes to meet Sarah for their walk, it was after 10pm. That was too late for him to head back to his lab for any more work that evening, not with him needing to get some sleep to prepare for his turn on the mound the next day. And that game started at 2pm in the afternoon. No, it would have to be a pleasant walk with his breathtaking girlfriend and then a good night's sleep. Not that Chuck was complaining in the least.
They'd left the baseball complex and swung around Angell Field (track and field) before crossing Campus Drive and skirting north of Frost Amphitheater, then cutting across the Stanford Oval to pick up their traditional walking path along Jane Stanford Way. Sarah asked her question the moment they took their first steps on the familiar sidewalk.
"Chuck, may I ask you a question?" Sarah asked hesitatingly. She was nervous, Chuck could feel it in the way she gripped his hand. Something was up.
"Sure, Sarah. You can ask me anything," he nodded. "What is it you want to know?" Chuck smiled his encouragement.
"Remember back in the fall when you told me about your headaches and your mental closets?"
"Yeeeaah?" He drawled, uncertain what her question really was.
"Well, did you always do that? Put your … um … your bad memories in a mental closet? Or did you used to do something else? Something that worked at first and for a while, but then didn't? That's why you were struggling in Boston and in England, before Mr. Barker started helping you?" Sarah said all of that in a rush, hardly taking a breath, trying to get all of the questions she'd been wondering out all at once.
"You've got a lot of questions," Chuck mused softly.
"Yeah, well I think about you a lot, sweetie," his girlfriend replied.
"I can tell," he grinned crookedly, but quickly sobered when he saw the expression on Sarah's face. "Sorry, I don't mean to make light of what you asked. It's just nice to know you are thinking about me as much as I think about you." He smiled gently and she just about melted on the spot. She steeled herself and gave him a more pointed look. And she resisted kissing the daylights out of him.
"You're evading, Chuck," Sarah admonished him, but then she realized that it might be a difficult thing for him to talk about. "But you don't have to talk about it, if it makes you feel uncomfortable." He shook his head.
"No, I don't mind talking about it," he shrugged. "It does make me uncomfortable, but I'll do it anyway."
"I'm right here, baby," Sarah squeezed his hand reassuringly. "Tell me as much or as little as you are OK with telling me. I'll understand if you can't talk about some stuff." Chuck nodded and smiled in appreciation.
"When I was really small, I had a lot of trouble staying in control and not getting lost in some part of my past," he began slowly. "Mom and Dad were frantically trying to come up with some way to help. They took me to a number of Mom's colleagues looking for answers. Nothing helped." A sad, one shoulder shrug. "Then Mom had an idea. She had read some papers about people with other mental issues, but thought some of the treatments might help me with my hyperthymesia." Sarah was struck by the intensity of his gaze. "Her idea was to have me use a mental image of someplace or something where I could place my memories, both good and bad. A place to keep them separate from what I was experiencing at that moment, live, for real."
"What did you come up with, Chuck?" She was a bit breathless.
"A library," he replied. When Sarah's eyes widened in surprise, he hurried on. "I've always liked libraries. All those books. I could read and learn to my heart's content. No one bothered me. I felt safe in libraries," Chuck shrugged again while a small smile played across his lips. She could just picture a young curly-haired Chuck surrounded by stacks of books and she smiled.
"So, how did you use the library for your memories?" A gentle nudge.
"Probably like you're imagining. I would picture writing incidents from my memory in a book and then closing it and putting it on the shelf in my mental library."
"That sounds like a good idea," Sarah admitted. "What went wrong?" Chuck let out a small rueful chuckle.
"What went wrong was my education," he answered. Sarah was confused. Chuck saw her expression and continued. "The more I learned about math and engineering, the more I understood that it was possible to overburden library shelves with too many books." She eyed him and he nodded. "Yeah, I know that it was only a mental library and the shelves couldn't really break or the books really fall, but as soon as the idea was lodged in my head, I couldn't get rid of it." He tapped the side of his head, in his practiced gesture. "Part of the downside to my condition."
"The damage was done. My protection no longer worked completely. The shelves could fall and the books would open and I'd be in trouble. Add in scenes from movies and TV where someone does something to cause all of the shelves to topple over, like dominos, and things just got worse," he frowned. "That is, until Cole helped me with all of the breathing and concentration exercises and the meditation. The closets were his idea. He said, don't overfill a closet. Just put some stuff in one, close it, and then build another closet down the hall in your mind."
"What about all of those comedies and cartoons where the closets burst open and everything comes pouring out? Or the closet door breaks for the same result? Weren't you in danger from your mind latching onto that imagery?"
Chuck smiled again. "You just repeated what I said to Cole back then. He said, fine, did I know of any material that was so tough that it could never break? I said I did and he said, OK, picture your closets being made out of that tough, unbreakable material. And it worked. It's still working." Another shrug.
"What material did you pick?" Sarah's curiosity peaked.
"Adamantium. It's the densest metal in the Marvel comic books. Almost impossible to destroy. Before you ask, no it doesn't matter that we haven't found it on our Earth, yet. It's just a mental image I need to use. And I've read a whole lot of Marvel comics over the years," Chuck grinned sheepishly. Sarah giggled, but thought of another question and quickly sobered.
"Why not just fix your mental library to use adamantium shelves full of adamantium books? Or have the books wrapped in chains like in those old libraries in Europe?"
"It was too late. My image was already tainted with my engineering knowledge. The bookshelves were made out of wood and the books were typical books, that's how I'd pictured them at the beginning. And I didn't know about the chained books back then, either. I couldn't update the image to account for the new material or the chains. My brain kept getting in the way. So, the closets were created instead."
Now Sarah was concerned. "Won't us talking about your closets mess you up, too?" She clutched at his hand a little desperately.
"Nope," Chuck shook his head emphatically. "That's the beauty of using an indestructible material. The closets can't break, so nothing can fall out. Kind of like my mental image is cast in concrete. Or adamantium," he smiled. Sarah shook her head and snorted in amusement.
"Well, if nothing can fall out, what are your headaches and why are you worried about them?" Sarah countered.
"The difference is the closet doors can't break like the bookshelves could, but they can still open. How else can I put memories in them or take memories out of them?" Chuck asked her to consider. "The headaches signal that one of my doors is opening. Since I originally pictured closets with doors that can open, I can't change the mental imagery. I could come up with another storage method, but that takes a lot of time, mental effort, and meditation to implement." Shrug. "It's easier just to deal with the headaches if and when they occur and make sure my mental doors are all shut and stay that way."
"When was the last time you felt a headache coming on, Chuck?" Sarah asked.
"It's been quite a while," he replied. Chuck paused and took a deep breath. "There's something else I wanted to mention, but I don't want to put any pressure on you."
"What do you mean, sweetie?" Sarah asked, suddenly nervous.
"Sarah, I think part of the reason I've not had even a hint of a headache for so long is you," Chuck announced.
"Me? How? What did I do?" Sarah was incredulous.
"You keep me focused. Make me want to be here. With you. My wanting to be with you helps keep me focused and grounded in the here and now. My memories from before I met you hold a lot less sway over me now, than they did before when I was alone," Chuck smiled her special smile. Her heart flipped and melted. He'd done it again. She loved his honesty and she loved him. More and more each day.
"Oh, Chuck!" Sarah exclaimed as she launched herself into his arms. Her lips found his and they met in a sweet, loving kiss. It lasted a while and when they finally parted, she felt tears on her cheeks. Chuck noticed.
"What's wrong, Sarah?" he asked gently. "I'm sorry if I upset you. I didn't mean to. Honest. What did I do? Please tell me, so I can fix it." Sarah smiled up at him as he wiped the tears from her cheeks.
"I'm fine, sweetie," she said, patting his chest, just wanting to touch him. He gave her a dubious look. "I am, I promise. It's just that no one has ever said something to me like that. That I helped them. That I mattered like that." Chuck put his arms around her and drew her into his warm embrace.
"I'm sorry to hear that no one's told you that before. I'm telling you now. You mean a great deal to me. I don't know what I would do without you," he gently kissed the top of her head.
She pressed her cheek into his strong chest and sighed. He was making progress. Bit by bit. He was hers. And she was his. The words would come, she was sure of it. Sarah thought that she was ready for the next step, but their just concluded discussion reminded her of Chuck's untried and untested mental state. She could clearly feel the uncertainty and concern that lay behind his words. She'd help him, how could she not? She loved him. They'd figure it out together, but first, it was time for more kissing.
March 23
It had been a long afternoon. Chuck had another rough outing. Not that he pitched particularly badly, more of a case of the Utah squad pecking away at his pitches and capitalizing on small, but costly mistakes from Stanford. He dealt with the Utes in the first two innings on just fifteen pitches each, giving up a walk in the first and a single in the second, both to no effect. Stanford put up 4 runs in the first and another in the second to lead the game 5-0, which should have been a good lead, but it was not to be, proving, once again, that no lead is safe in college baseball.
The trouble began in the third inning when the Ute players started swinging early in the pitch count. Their first three batters slapped out singles which left two men on base and brought a run in to score. Chuck stumbled badly with Zack Moeller, the Utah catcher, losing a full count and walking him to load the bases. Right fielder Erick Migueles hit a sacrifice fly to Chris Ebersole in right field which scored a run, but an errant throw by Millard at second brought home another run, this time unearned. Chuck managed to retire the final two batters to stop the small rally, leaving the score 5-3, still in Stanford's favor. Utah added to their tally in the top of the fourth when their first baseman, Kramer, hit a double to left center and then came around to score on a single from the Utes' designated hitter. The score sat at 5-4, with Stanford holding on to a slim lead.
Stanford went in order in the bottom of the fourth inning, setting up the climactic showdown in the fifth. Utah's Oliver Dunn managed to work the count full before Chuck caught him looking at strike three, a screaming two-seam fastball with a lot of late movement that caught the inside corner of the plate, just above the second baseman's knees. After winning that battle, Chuck gave up a single to the very next player to appear. Not so terrible in and of itself, but it was the following batter, Migueles, again, who did the real damage hitting a homerun over the left field fence and giving Utah the lead, 6-5. To Chuck's great relief, Daniel Shaw took a 2-0 (2 balls and 0 strikes) change-up and smacked it over the center field wall for his own homerun, tying the game, 6-6, during Stanford's half of the frame. Graham allowed Chuck to go back out in the sixth inning to the amazement of the assembled crowd, but he had warned his big left-hander that he was on the shortest leash possible. Chuck rose to the challenge and retired the Utah side in order on just six pitches, one fly out and two ground outs to finish off his adventuresome afternoon with the score still tied. While he had regained a measure of control of the game, Chuck's pitch count stood at 91 and it sent him to the showers.
Once the bullpens for both teams took over, the game settled into a pitchers' duel that went to extra innings. There were some close calls for both teams, but neither squad could push across another run. That was the state of things in the bottom of the twelfth inning when Mike Millard singled to center field. Chris Ebersole put down a sacrifice bunt to advance Millard to second. Utah tried to set up a double play by intentionally walking Bobby Malcolm, Stanford's DH. It seemed like a good idea, particularly when Stanford's next batter, John Sload, struck out looking on a 1-2 curveball. Fortunately, for the home team, the next man up, David Bice, pounded a 3-1 fastball to right center for a double, allowing Millard to come home with the deciding run. Twelve innings of back-and-forth baseball that resulted in another Stanford victory, 7-6, bringing their record to 14-3. Sarah could finally take a breath. Chuck may not have gotten the victory himself, but the team did and Chuck didn't lose the game, either, which was a win-win in her book.
Chuck may have had a less than stellar performance on the field, but his evening plans were a definite winner. Earlier in the week, he'd made plans for dinner at Miss Maisie's. The moment Coach Graham took him out of the game, Chuck got on his phone and successfully moved the reservation back an hour. It had taken a bit of shuffling of reservations, but Mr. Colt came through in the end. Chuck was especially grateful for his friend's efforts because that evening happened to be the evening when Chuck was introducing Ellie and Morgan (and Devon and Alex, of course) to the pleasures of Miss Maisie's Jazzy Place.
Chuck and Devon had managed to find two parking spots in the lot that bordered Sherman Avenue, the next block over from Miss Maisie's. It was a pleasant night and the walk to the restaurant was just long enough to get the three couples' blood pumping and sharpening their appetites. Chuck smiled at the excitement evident on his sister's and his oldest friend's faces.
"Tell me again how you found this place?" Ellie asked, as the group crossed over California Avenue and began to encounter the joyous music and delectable smells enveloping the animated restaurant like an enticing cloud. Chuck and Sarah shared amused smiles.
"Right after we got to school in the fall, that first Monday, Morgan was busy and I wanted to explore so I called a cab …"
"That was your Mr. Dixon?" His sister interrupted.
"Yes, El. That was Mr. Dixon. Ron Dixon," Chuck nodded. "Anyway, I asked him if there were any Cajun restaurants close by and he said, 'Yes, Miss Maisie's' and then I asked if there were any good jazz clubs nearby. Mr. Dixon said 'Same place, Miss Maisie's'. I asked him to take me there and I had a great time. The rest is history," he shrugged.
Ellie gave Sarah a look before speaking. "And he's taken you there?" Sarah nodded. "Is the food good?"
"Yeah, Ellie, the food is good. Great, actually. Great music, too. Super fun atmosphere. And Mr. Colt and Miss Maisie are such nice people," Sarah smiled and nodded again.
"El, Miss Maisie's is like those places that Gommy and Granddaddy took us to the last time we visited Atlanta. You'll see."
"Sounds great, Chuckster," Devon enthused.
"I can't believe that you've been holding out on me, Chuck," Morgan teased. "You took Sarah here before me. I thought we were friends." He attempted to appear like he was pouting, but his beard hid most of the facial expression and it only looked like he was trying to imitate a fish, drawing laughs from the other members of the group.
"Sorry, Morg. We are friends. It's just that Sarah is a better … um … friend," Chuck finished lamely when the look he got from his girlfriend caused his cheeks to redden.
"Close, Bartowski. Close," she deadpanned. Ellie and Alex both giggled at the exchange and Chuck's embarrassed shimmy in response. Devon smirked, but wisely kept quiet and Morgan just twisted his lips to the side and shook his head. Hook, line, and sinker, he thought and winked so that only Alex could see the look on his face. She pressed her lips together and nodded her agreement.
As they approached Miss Maisie's entrance, Chuck and Sarah hesitated just enough to put them behind the other two couples. To their great delight, Mr. Colt burst out of the door with a huge smile on his face.
"Why if it ain't Ellie Bartowski and Morgan Grimes and their dates!" He loudly announced, spreading his massive arms wide. "Welcome to Miss Maisie's!"
For possibly the first time in her life, Ellie was struck dumb. She stopped still, her eyes big as saucers, and unconsciously put her hand to her mouth and gasped at the huge man's loud familiarity. Morgan just stopped and stared open-mouthed at Michael's huge frame. It was the first time Chuck's friend had ever seen someone so big in person where he wasn't running in fear in the other direction. Not that he wasn't contemplating that very thing at that very moment.
Mr. Colt was delighted at the reaction he'd gotten. He looked at Sarah and winked just as he started his laugh of rumbling boulders. Sarah laughed, in return, remembering her own introduction to Mr. Colt back in the fall. Chuck just snorted and shook his head. He knew what was coming next. Ellie didn't disappoint. The moment the laughter started, she came back to herself and whirled on her brother.
"Charles Irving Bartowski, you better explain yourself and explain yourself right now!" His older sister glowered at him and finished her demand with a loud nasally "Hmph!" Sarah started to laugh even harder, earning her own glower from Ellie which she completely ignored.
"Ellie, this is Mr. Michael Colt. He's Miss Maisie's husband and co-owner of the restaurant," Chuck gestured at the still laughing older man. "For some reason, he loves to scare his customers, especially his new customers." He waved his hands dismissively. "Don't mind him, he's harmless. Just wait until I tell his wife what devilry he's getting up to tonight." Chuck pretended to glare at his friend, who pulled an affronted face in return.
"No reason to get nasty, Chuck," Mr. Colt rumbled. "Just for that, I'll have to give y'all an extra tight hug." As he finished speaking his trunk-like left arm reached out and snared Chuck around his back. Sarah attempted to take a step back, but was trapped by his other arm. "Just where do y'all think you're going, Miss Sarah? Y'all deserve a nice Michael Colt hug yourself."
Ellie and Morgan and their dates looked on in amusement and some concern. When Chuck groaned a little and Sarah let out a small "Eep" from within Mr. Colt's arms, Ellie giggled.
"I like him," she said. Chuck groaned again.
"Will you stop your whining, Chuck? I'm just showing y'all how I feel about you," Mr. Colt winked at Ellie now. People passing on the street on the scene in amusement. Michael Colt's antics were common knowledge.
"That's what I'm afraid of," Chuck admitted from the depths of Mr. Colts slightly crushing embrace. Mr. Colt started to laugh again and he relaxed his arms, allowing his two victims … erm … friends to breathe again.
"I think I cracked a rib," Chuck faux pouted.
"You are such a baby," Michael shook his head. "I barely squeezed you at all."
"That doesn't mean you didn't crack a rib," Chuck persisted, but losing the effect when he grinned.
"How did y'all put up with such a crybaby, Miss Ellie?" Mr. Colt turned his attention to Chuck's older sister.
"We shipped him off to school out of state where we couldn't hear him anymore," she snarked. Everyone froze. Realizing what she had just said, she bit her lip and fearfully looked over at her brother. She need not have worried. Chuck was laughing and shaking his head in mock resignation.
"Ouch! Man, that hurts, Ellie," Chuck laughed. "My own sister turns on me just to score some social points with someone she's just met. Wow." Sarah had tensed when Ellie had spoken, but she relaxed when she saw and felt Chuck's unconcerned reaction.
The awkward moment quickly passed once Chuck's nonchalance registered with everyone. The introductions were swiftly taken care of, so everyone was on an equal footing. Mr. Colt kept up his low, rock-crushing chuckle as he led the three couples through the door. Ellie was trying to sidle up to Chuck to offer an apology, when the other patrons recognized Chuck and Sarah. The obviously practiced shoutouts began and Ellie was surprised for the second time that night. It was clear that Chuck, and Sarah, were known and liked by the patrons and staff at the restaurant. The young couple were smiling and waving while they greeted people they recognized. Then Mr. Colt spoke up in his imposing voice.
"This here's Miss Ellie Bartowski, Chuck's sister, and her boyfriend, Devon Woodcomb," Mr. Colt waved his massive arm to the left to indicate Ellie and Devon. "And this gentleman, sporting an impressive beard, is Chuck's oldest friend, Morgan Grimes, with his lady friend, Alex McHugh." Another broad gesture to the right. Morgan smiled his delight at the compliment. "They's all first-time customers. Now how's about y'all give Chuck and Sarah's family a nice Miss Maisie's welcome? And behave yourselves," he said sternly. Like outside, the people inside the restaurant were very familiar with Michael's antics and chuckled accordingly before offering warm welcomes to the newcomers. For her part, Sarah felt a quick flash of happiness at being described as part of Chuck's family.
"Welcome, Miss Ellie and Miss Alex! You, too, Devon and Morgan!" "Welcome, y'all!" "Hi, Miss Ellie. Miss Alex. Devon. Morgan." "Nice ta see, y'all!" Those and other greetings filled the restaurant. A voice from somewhere called out, "Well, now we know who got all the looks in your family, Chuck, and it ain't you!" The room broke into good natured laughter that only increased in volume when Chuck grinned and stuck out his tongue in the direction of the speaker. Ellie's cheeks pinked a little, but, mostly, she was stunned at how people were treating Chuck and how he was reacting. She smiled and caught Sarah's eye, who nodded and smiled in return. People knew who Chuck was! And they liked him! Ellie was so happy she had to fight off the tears. She felt Devon squeeze her hand and she hiccupped a little, holding back a sob.
"He's got friends, Ellie," Devon breathed into her ear. "People who care. Lots of them." He nodded in Chuck's direction. "Look how he's drinking it in, like a flower in the sun." Ellie sniffed and nodded. Her Devon didn't miss much. She loved him so much right then.
"God, Devon," she smiled. "This is amazing." Ellie looked over at Sarah and took her hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. "Sarah, you and Stanford. These people. Oh my God," she said softly. Sarah just beamed, fighting her own tears. Ellie caught the look on Morgan's face. Alex's, too. They understood. Morgan was grinning like an absolute fool. Mr. Colt spoke up again.
"OK, quit preening, you prima donna," he teased Chuck. "Let's get y'all to your table." Chuck blushed and people chuckled softly as the big owner led the couples to their table.
"Tough game today, Chuck," someone called out. "Touch and go. Glad the team pulled it out in the end."
"Yeah, those guys must have been seeing the ball pretty well today," Chuck nodded. "Some of those hits were amazing."
"Damn metal bats," grumped the voice, which belonged to an older gentleman seated with what looked like his family along the back wall of the restaurant.
"I'll take it!" Chuck chirped. "Let's go with that." He grinned and a number of people listening chuckled and gently teased him. Everyone knew the baseball gods could be very fickle. At this point, the Bartowski party had arrived at the large table in the corner.
"This here ain't Chuck's regular table. That's over yonder, but there's too many of y'all to sit there. Jest, so y'all know, that's one strike already," the large man smiled and winked while he placed the menus on the table. "I'll let y'all sort yourselves out and I'll be back in a minute to get this party started." With that, Mr. Colt went off in search of his wife. She would definitely want to meet Chuck's people.
The couples were arranging themselves around the table when Chuck spoke up.
"Don't get too comfortable," he began. "Mr. Colt has gone to get Miss Maisie. She'll want to hug all of you, just so y'all know. While we wait on them, please take a look at the menu and let me know if you have any questions."
Chuck had Sarah on his right and Ellie on his left. Devon was next to her, followed by Morgan and Alex. Alex sat across from Sarah and together, they guarded the entrance to the corner booth. Everyone, besides Chuck, picked up menus and began to peruse them. Ellie took the opportunity to lean toward her brother.
"Chuck, I'm so sorry for what I said a minute ago," Ellie said, sounding contrite. "I wasn't thinking and it just popped out. You know I don't mean it. I'm so, so sorry." Chuck could see true regret on his sister's face. He wasn't upset and told her so.
"I understand, El. I really do. Just some teasing in the heat of the moment," he shrugged to show how he felt about it. Ellie's eyes cleared as they widened.
"Wow, you sure have changed, little brother," she smiled, tentatively.
"Yeah, you're right, sis," Chuck agreed. "A year ago, it might have upset me, but things have changed. I've changed." Chuck smiled and shared an affectionate look with Sarah, before leaning in and placing a gentle kiss on her smiling lips.
"Gross," Ellie faux frowned. "Please, it's not that kind of restaurant." Chuck broke the kiss, much to Sarah's chagrin, with a sheepish blush on his face.
"Are you sure about that, Ellie?" Sarah teased, saucily. "Maybe that's why Chuck and I are so popular here." Chuck's face just got redder, but Ellie's face surged past his to a ripe tomato red. Devon and Morgan went from surprised to laughing in about a second. Ellie had been gotten. Alex gave Sarah a high-five and joined them in their laughter. Sarah chuckled and bounced her eyebrows at Ellie, then leaned over and kissed Chuck's cheek feeling the added warmth from his blush under her lips.
Ellie put both hands to her cheeks, feeling the heat there, followed by her own amused snort. "Oh, Chuck, you have no idea," she pressed her lips together and slowly shook her head from side to side.
"Oh, I know that, El," Chuck readily agreed. "I may be pretty clueless about a lot of stuff, but I've known that fact for a while now. I have no idea." He smiled at the delight evident on his beautiful girlfriend's face. "And I'm OK with that. I know that Sarah always has my back and would never hurt me."
Damn! He did it again. The humor around the table shut off like a light. How did he keep doing that, Sarah wondered. Her inner fire sprang to life and raged almost out of control. She quickly schooled her features before Chuck could see and ask her what was going on, but Ellie saw.
While the other three people at the table were gaping at Chuck's open honesty and he shrugged at their reactions, Ellie caught Sarah's attention and mouthed a silent "Wow!" as her eyes widened. Sarah's face held a shaky tight-lipped smile and she nodded, fighting to keep her emotions under control. When you finally figure it out, little brother, oh boy, his sister thought. She wanted to squeal so badly right now.
Alex and Morgan were sharing a happy look of their own and holding hands. Ellie had turned her attention to Devon, having an entire wordless conversation with just their eyes. Chuck and Sarah were lost in each other, oblivious to the world. That was the scene that greeted Miss Maisie and Mr. Colt when they returned to the table. The older couple shared their own amused grins.
"Should we just bring y'all the check or are y'all actually planning on having dinner?" Miss Maisie chuckled knowingly. The young couples instantly focused their attention on the proprietors standing in front of them, trying to hide their needlessly guilty expressions. Chuck attempted to introduce the other two couples, but Miss Maisie impatiently cut him off.
"I know who dey is, Chuck," Maisie snorted. "Now, git out da way so they can git up and I can give 'em proper a hug!" Sarah laughed and stood up to allow Chuck to follow her instructions.
"I told y'all, Chuck," Mr. Colt chuckled as Chuck and Sarah joined him off to the side. "You are yesterday's news now."
"I guess so," Chuck pouted exaggeratedly, shaking his head. Sarah was giggling at his side.
"Hush you," Maisie admonished him sternly, her eyes twinkling. Ellie was watching the exchange, smiling, as she extricated herself from the booth, followed by Devon. Alex and Morgan did likewise on the other side.
"Hi, I'm Chuck's sister -," Ellie began, but Maisie interrupted her with a tight hug.
"Honey Chile, I know who you are," Miss Maisie smiled, looking around at the young people. "I know who all y'all are. Chuck's done told us all about y'all." Ellie began to glare at Chuck for talking so freely, but Maisie put a hand on her arm to calm her. "Don't be angry at him, Miss Ellie. Chuck was just singing y'all's praises. I wasn't sure you were even real." The older woman smiled benignly at the four new customers, cooling the angry fire before it could burst into full flame. "I can see now that y'all are most definitely real. And Chuck wasn't exaggerating, at all. Y'all are pretty as a picture. The both of you," she looked from Ellie to Alex and back. "And two such handsome men. I declare," she sighed dramatically. Maisie mimed, fanning herself and grinned at the pink cheeks she'd caused. While they were still blushing, she completed her round of welcoming hugs, finishing up with Sarah and Chuck, whose hug she held the longest.
"We're trying to eat here," a voice teased from a nearby table. Maisie whipped around and fixed the offender with a look.
"Y'all hush, Vernon," Miss Maisie scolded him. "I've got half a mind to charge y'all double." A chorus of "Woah's" followed by laughter ran around the immediate area. The victim was among those laughing.
"At least, she's finally admitting that she's got half a mind," Mr. Colt stage whispered to Chuck, who had the good sense to hold his hands up, shake his head, and take a step back.
"Michael Colt!" Miss Maisie barked. The chorus of "Woah's" returned and increased in volume. Her husband just chuckled, so she turned back to Ellie. "Pay him no mind, 'cause that's all he's got anyhow."
The "Woah's" turned to raucous laughter and catcalls at Mr. Colt's expense. His grin fled and his face drew down into a fierce pout which he turned on his wife. Her pout matched his and they stared at each other for a couple of beats. But they couldn't hold it and their faces dissolved into practiced and loving smiles as they kissed amidst their shared giggles.
Ellie giggled at their antics, charmed nearly out of her mind. No wonder Chuck was so taken by this place and these kind people. She was, too, and she'd only just met them.
"Now, y'all sit yourselves down," Maisie commanded. "Sit. Sit," she repeated when the younger people hesitated. "We's jumpin' tonight, so I gotta get back in da kitchen." She turned to her husband. "Michael, give these youngins a few minutes then come back and take da order." Mr. Colt nodded once. Miss Maisie whirled in place and took off back toward the kitchen in a hurry. Her other half left to deal with some other table, with a promise to return soon. The couples resumed their seats and returned to examining their menus.
The couples were strolling along idly window shopping and taking in the relaxed Saturday evening atmosphere of the area surrounding Miss Maisie's. Taking the scenic route, so to speak, trying to work off some of their dinner before heading back to their cars. Chuck and Sarah shared knowing smiles since most of the conversation centered around the amazing food they had all just eaten. That, and how much fun the whole experience had been.
"Chuck, I can't believe you managed to keep Miss Maisie's a secret all this time," Ellie said, somehow combining her excitement with a chiding tone.
"Yeah, Chuck, so not cool," Morgan joined in.
"Y'all, it's been here all along. Right on the street. In plain sight," Chuck retorted. "Not a secret."
"You could have shared sooner," Morgan persisted with an exaggerated pout.
"Maybe, but, in my defense, I just needed a place, ya know? Somewhere I could go and just be. Away from everything and everyone. If it hadn't been Miss Maisie's, it would have been someplace else," Chuck shrugged.
"Chuck, we understand," Ellie said, squeezing his arm. "We were just teasing." She fixed her eyes on Chuck's friend. "Weren't we, Morgan?"
Picking up Ellie's vibe for his own safety, he nodded. "Sure, Ellie. We were only teasing, Chuck. No hard feelings. Now we know and we can come back whenever we want. Right?" Alex nodded and tightened her grip on her boyfriend's hand.
"Yup, we can," Ellie agreed. "And we will. That gumbo was amazing. Oh my God. And that Shrimp Ooh La La was oh so good. And oh, so fattening," Ellie smiled. "Sarah, I may have to join you on your jogs for a long, long time."
"Come along, I'd love to have you," Sarah laughed. "I'll be running more as well to work off my shrimp and grits. Heck, that gumbo is a culprit, too." She patted her stomach and mimicked a burp.
"I'll tag along, too," Alex chimed in. "I'm tiny compared to you two. My jambalaya must have added ten pounds." Morgan scoffed and shook his head, but stopped when he saw her teasing disapproval.
"I'll even admit I'll have to up my regimen to combat that seafood platter I had. All that fried shrimp, oysters, crawfish and catfish really packed on the pounds," Devon admitted.
"It was the fries, coleslaw and hushpuppies that came with it and you were snarfing, sweetie," Ellie admonished. "And you got a bowl of gumbo while everyone else got a cup." She snorted a laugh at her boyfriend.
"Yeah, that's true. But it was all … awesome!" Devon laughed. What else could it be? Everyone joined in laughing.
"Am I the only one who could go back and do it all over again?" Morgan asked. His question was met with a chorus of groans.
March 27
The Songbirds had just finished performing their semifinal song for Chuck and Dr. Beckman. Chuck gave his patented enthusiastic response, but none of the singers had grown tired of it and, most likely, never would. He wasn't over-the-top or offering fake praise. His pride in them and his pleasure at their performance was clearly displayed in his eyes and in his body language. The clapping and cheering were sweetly familiar and, still, the women beamed their own pleasure in reply to him. Now for some fun.
"So, you liked it, Chuck?" Sarah smiled teasingly. "I'm not sure I can tell." She stuck her tongue between her teeth and giggled. Chuck's face flattened.
"Ha. Pfft to you, too," he stuck his tongue out at the pleased group of women. "Of course, I liked it. Tease me all you like, but I thought it was great." Chuck grinned widely.
"That's OK, sweetie. We believe you," she soothed, giving his bicep a gentle squeeze, enjoying the low electric charge she always felt. "Want to know what we're going to be wearing?"
"I don't know," Chuck admitted. "You didn't tell me last time and you came in first place. That's a streak of one. In baseball, we don't do anything to jinx a streak, but it's up to you. I don't know about the acapella gods, only the baseball ones," he grinned crookedly. Sarah snorted and shook her head at his superstitions. She wasn't sure if he was serious or not. The noises she heard around her indicated that her fellow singers were just as dubious of Chuck's statement. On the other hand, why risk it?
"OK, you win, Chuck," Sarah nodded. "We'll respect the streak and keep our costumes to ourselves. For now. You can watch the video once it's over." She looked over at her suitemates and saw they were grinning. They'd talked about this next part. "What we will let slip is we're going to be wearing shoes with 3 and a half inch heels this time."
Chuck's eyes widened in surprise. "Oh wow! That's pretty sneaky." His eyes narrowed and he glanced shiftily to both sides then leaned closer. "So, after you've lulled everyone into a false sense of security with the two-inch heels and they're all imitating you, you're going to shock 'em with the 3 and a half inchers," he grinned evilly. "Just when they thought it was safe to go back on the dance floor. The ChoirBoyz will be falling all over themselves when they see that. They've got to be having trouble trying to dance in those two-inch heels." Chuck squinted and stroked his chin thoughtfully. "Good stuff, Songbirds. Shock and awe. I like it." By now, the girls (and Dr. Beckman) were all laughing at his silly strategizing.
"You're a goof," Sarah chuckled.
"Yeah, but I'm your goof," he smiled, wrinkling his nose cutely. Laughter.
"Yes, you are," Sarah said, hugging him. There were some gagging noises and giggling which the two of them ignored.
"What is it with you and women's shoes, Chuckles?" Carina asked, smirking. "You're beginning to worry me."
"It's not the shoes, Carina. It's the people wearing them," Chuck answered, looking her right in the eye.
"Ooo. Good answer," Carina said, clapping her hands.
Yes, it was, Sarah thought. I hope we can live up to his faith in us.
March 30
Sarah looked out the window in the room she shared with her fellow CATS. She'd never seen a hotel room with two queen beds in it before. There was so much space, even with all of the stuff that Carina just had to lug around. Pretty nice, all things considered. At any rate, it was only for two nights. They'd be heading back to Stanford the following day, win or lose. The Grand Hotel sure lived up to its name. It was huge. Along with the Salem Convention Center, it took up an entire city block. Luckily for the singers, Dr. Beckman had managed to arrange to have all of their rooms on the same hall, if not all side-by-side. It kept people from getting lost and would save time later when they needed to gather everyone for the short trip to the theater where the competition was scheduled. And it kept them far away from the block of rooms occupied by the ChoirBoyz, who were on another floor on the other side of the hotel, thankfully.
The trip to Salem, Oregon, the previous day, hadn't been too bad as such things go. They took a charter bus from Stanford to San Jose, followed by a decent flight to Portland, just under two hours, and finished up with another charter bus ride for less than an hour down Interstate 5 to Salem. And their comfy digs at the Grand Hotel. Total travel time was under six hours when she added in the wait times and all of the normal delays inherent with air travel. Sarah's main issue was being here kept her away from Chuck. Yes, her boyfriend was lost in the wilds of eastern Washington state at the moment, but she didn't care about logic just then. Sarah was missing her Chuck.
The view out her window wasn't all that inspiring since it featured a rather nondescript city street. Sarah wasn't really taking in the view, anyway, lost in her thoughts as she was. Up to that point, she'd been able to distract herself with a good workout in the hotel's nicely appointed fitness center earlier that morning, followed by a run around the downtown district which gave her a chance to reconnoiter the area, locating the Elsinore Theater and some interesting restaurants and shops. Breakfast had come in the form of a hot food buffet courtesy of the hotel for their guests. Thus fortified, Sarah and the other CATS had spent the remainder of the morning window shopping in the renovated downtown historic district and relaxing, keeping their minds off of what loomed before them that evening. During their trek about town, they'd encountered other groups of young people whom they assumed to be other competing acapella groups. They'd casually acknowledged each group, in turn, but hadn't offered any familiarity beyond that. Not seeing any of the ChoirBoyz during their jaunt made the morning even better.
When it became time for lunch, the foursome pooled their allotted resources and agreed to try the Wild Pear Restaurant. It was just one block up from the hotel, along Liberty Street, then a left turn down State Street. It had an eclectic menu that featured locally sourced ingredients and an interesting variety of dishes. Everyone had cups of soup, either the signature or the du jour, but picked a different entrée, so they could taste and share. Sarah chose what could best be described as a Vietnamese version of a French Dip sandwich, called a Pho Dip. It consisted of sliced roasted beef, lime-garlic aioli, bean sprouts, basil, cilantro, onion, hoisin & sriracha on a toasted hoagie roll with a cup of their pho beef broth for dipping. Paired with their house soup, coconut curry butternut squash, it was so yummy that she shared it with her friends with more than a little regret. Her roommates made similar wonderful choices and the four women had a great time sharing, tasting, and commenting on each choice, wishing that had been theirs, until they tasted the next dish and the cycle started all over again.
It had been a fun filled and relaxing morning. Each woman was keenly aware of the shortness of time, both in their acapella careers, but also in their time together as Stanford undergrads. In a few months they'd still be friends, but the circumstances would be different. Forever so. They could see that knowledge in each other's eyes and on their faces every time they looked, putting extra weight to their shared experiences. Sisters bound not by blood, but by love.
Now, Sarah was alone with her thoughts and the non-view out the window of their room. The others had wanted to continue their downtown exploration, but she had begged off, deciding that she needed some time alone before she set up her laptop to watch the live stream of Chuck's game at Washington State. She'd gotten a little bit of teasing from her friends, but only a little. They knew she couldn't help but follow her heart, so with hugs and smiles, they'd parted ways, the CATS to prowl and Sarah to stare out a window and ponder.
Her life was going to change soon. She was going to graduate. The CATS would part company. Amy was going off to join the adult world, leaving Sarah, Carina, and Zondra behind to forge a new, and separate, path in graduate school. Sure, the three of them would still be together. Still roommates, but Amy would be gone. Not so far away, but far enough. Not right there every day to bring her unique blend of practical engineer and bubbly goof-ball. Yeah, she'd come back for football weekends and, maybe, some parties. Camping out in their apartment, but it would be different. The Three Musketeers instead of the Four Musketeers. Sarah sighed, her eyes suddenly red.
From somewhere in her mind, two sets of memories rose to the surface and demanded her attention. The first set of memories centered around Ellie and how she'd clicked with Sarah and the other CATS. Smart and funny and very quick witted, she was always fun to be around. Bawdy and very sassy. And she understood and supported Sarah's relationship with Chuck. Then there was Alex McHugh and her oh so funny snark. She fit right in, too. So, maybe, the CATS weren't done for, just changing a little. And Amy really wasn't all that far away. Certainly not too far away that she couldn't come back for a girls' night out. The CATS plus Ellie and Alex? Palo Alto would never be the same again. That thought made Sarah chuckle and brightened her mood considerably. She looked over at the clock on the nightstand and realized that she needed to boot up her laptop and get ready to watch her nerd play some baseball. Chuck. Her Chuck. She missed him terribly. Their video chats Thursday and Friday nights were a poor substitute to having him in her arms, but they were better than nothing. He'd left Stanford with the team even before the Songbirds had left. Definitely the biggest change in her life this past year. When she added him into her mix of friends, the future looked so much happier and more exciting. The last vestiges of her melancholy vanished. Sarah smiled as she located the live stream coming from Washington State and she settled in to watch the love of her life do his thing.
Chuck was out in the visitor's bullpen wrapping up his warm up routine. The day was overcast and a little chilly, only 51 degrees. Definitely more humid, too, in Pullman than it was in Palo Alto. He'd have to keep that in mind. Remind Morgan, too. They might have to change up their pitch selection depending on how the early innings went.
The team had had a long journey to reach Washington State's home turf. Back on Thursday morning, they had taken the team bus to San Jose and flown to Pullman with a stop in Boise, Idaho. Luckily the Pullman-Moscow Regional Airport was on the northeast side of Pullman, close by to the Washington State campus which made the trip to the hotel blessedly short. The hotel itself, a Residence Inn, seemed to be part of the campus proper and was literally just up the street from the baseball field. Everyone had checked in and eaten a late lunch, resting up for a few hours before holding a late afternoon practice to get some work in and help the players acclimate to the climate in that part of the Pacific Northwest.
After a good night's sleep, the team had gone through their pre-game workout in preparation for the game Friday evening. Mac Henderson had pitched a good game, only allowing one run on eight hits while striking out three. As had been the case in his last start, the Washington State hitters had drawn out their at-bats which drove up Mac's pitch count, forcing him from the game in the bottom half of the fifth inning. Once again, the Stanford relief corps took over and kept the Cougars off of the scoreboard, only allowing two hits with four strikeouts against just one walk over the remaining four and two thirds innings in the game. Stanford won the opening contest, 7-1.
Now, Chuck was the man of the hour. Morgan was reviewing the scouting report on the Cougar hitters. Having no need to do that, Chuck was busy with something else. With someone else. He wondered how Sarah was doing. What she was doing. Today was a big day for her and the Songbirds. Make or break. Do or die. Win or go home. He snorted at himself for the stream of sports euphemisms he'd strung together. But it really was a big day for Sarah. His Sarah. And he couldn't be there to support her. A fact that shamed and frustrated him. He'd never been pulled in two directions in his life before. Never wanted two conflicting things at the same time with equal intensity. Having to choose. Learning how to choose. Dealing with the aftermath of the choice. Chuck wasn't so naïve that he didn't realize that he wasn't actually choosing anything either. The schedule and his coaches made the choices. He merely went along with them, as he had always done in the past. Once there had been no conflict, no confusion. Now, there was. Sarah was the difference. Sarah was everything. Yet, he had made a commitment. As had she, he suddenly realized. Did she want to be here? With him? He knew that he wanted to be there for her, so it stood to reason that she felt the same. Did she? Even if she did, he hoped she was focused on the challenge in front of her. He would still be there for her after it was over.
His game mattered, but nothing like Sarah's competition. He hoped they won. His friends certainly deserved it. His friends! Chuck smiled at that thought. He had made friends since coming to Stanford. Lots of them. And many more acquaintances. And still more people he knew on sight, who knew him in the same way. It was like he'd imagined it would be. Like he'd dreamed it would be. He loved being at Stanford for the whole experience it had given him so far. He loved it even more because it brought him to Sarah. She –
"Bartowski!" Graham barked, grinning, interrupting his daydreaming. Chuck jerked back to awareness of his immediate surroundings and situation. That included a dugout full of baseball players and coaches all grinning and laughing at him.
"Um … Yes, Coach?" He fumbled.
"Get your head in the game. This game. Here and now. The ladies in Salem can take care of themselves," the head coach said, attempting to be stern, but failing. Bartowski was so completely transparent. Poor kid. And he didn't even seem to care.
"Yes, sir, Coach. Head in the game. Got it," Chuck nodded, tapping his temple. Internally, he complained that he never had enough time to think about Sarah as much as he wished.
"Oh, good Lord, Bartowski," Graham snorted. "You can't lie worth shit." He shook his head in mock derision. "At least try to sound convincing." Casey made a face and grunted.
"Sure, Coach. I'll try, Coach," Chuck replied robotically. Graham burst out laughing. Many of the players and coaches were laughing and shaking their heads at Chuck's distracted responses.
"Get out there," Graham shooed him out of the dugout with a knowing smirk. "And pay attention. We don't need you getting killed. What would Grimes say to your girl?"
"Why me?" Morgan squeaked. "What did I do?" The only reply the bearded catcher heard was another round of laughter as the team took the field in the bottom of the first.
Sarah was watching Chuck's game with rapt attention. Since it was a Washington State live stream, she had the sound muted and she was listening to Big Mike's announcing over the radio app on her phone. Big Mike was saying that the Cougar hitters were using the same strategy against Chuck that they had against Mac Henderson the day before. Stay patient, wait on pitches, and drive up the pitch count wherever possible. Chuck had been OK in the first inning. OK, but not great. He'd gotten the first batter to strike out looking, but then gave up a full count walk to the Cougars' center fielder, Danny Sinatro, who scored on a double to right center field by the catcher. The inning had taken 19 pitches. Not bad on its own, but if Washington State kept forcing Chuck to do that, the pitch count would climb in a hurry.
Shaw led off the top of the second with a single and scored when Stanford's third baseman, Rodger Mason, homered to dead center field. Chuck took the field again with the lead, 2-1. And quickly got in trouble, walking the first batter, Jack Smith, the designated hitter, on four straight pitches. Smith moved up to second on a sacrifice bunt by the Cougars' second baseman, Garrett Gouldsmith. He took third after Koby Blunt, right field, singled to second and beat Millard's throw to first. Chuck couldn't make the throw in time to catch the next batter when he bunted the ball directly to him. The scorekeeper called it a hit and it allowed Smith to come in to score. Chuck shook off his disappointment and focused on getting the next batter. He was rewarded when the batter, first baseman Dillon Plew, shanked a 2-2 changeup to second base. Millard stepped on the bag and tossed the ball to Shaw at first for the textbook double play. Chuck was out of the inning with the score tied 2-2. It had taken 14 pitches. OK.
Stanford went in order quietly in the top of the third inning. It had only taken the Cougar pitcher 11 pitches to handle the Cardinal hitters. Chuck was back on the mound before he knew it. Sarah couldn't be sure, but he looked a little hesitant. What was Big Mike saying?
"Bartowski was talking with Bradbury, the pitching coach, and the team trainer right before he left the dugout. Not sure what that was about, but Bradbury is talking to Graham. … Graham is nodding. … Bradbury is going to the phone to call the bullpen and … yup … a couple of the guys are getting up and beginning to stretch. What is going on? Your guess is as good as mine. Anyway, Bartowski has taken his warmup throws and signaled that he is ready to go."
"First up is Sinatro, the Cougars' center fielder. Bartowski gets the sign, nods, and throws … Strike, right at the knees on the inside part of the plate. Pretty pitch. The sign, again. Sets. The windup aaand it's a ball! That was outside by a good bit. The count is now 1-1. Here comes the next pitch … a hit! Sinatro slapped it to Larkin, but deep. No chance to make a throw, so it's a single for the home team."
"Their shortstop, Alvarez, is now in the box with one on and no outs. He digs in while Bartowski gets the sign. The throw … foul! He hit it straight back over the net behind home plate. Bartowski gets the sign, looks Sinatro back and lets it go! Ball! Outside. And Bartowski is looking at his hand and shaking his head. Must have slipped, I guess. Grimes throws the ball back. They exchange signs … sets … looks … Here's the throw … another ball! Outside again. Bartowski's frowning now. Not sure what's the matter, but Bradbury just made another call to the bullpen. The relievers are now throwing with a purpose down there. Still no visit to talk with our left-hander. He and Grimes agree on the next pitch. He sets … throws … aaand it's foul straight back toward the press box, again. Bartowski better be careful. If Alvarez can straighten out that swing, he'll hit the ball to center field for sure. He's ready. Bartowski gets the sign and nods. He sets and throws … Alvarez got a good piece of it. What did I tell you folks? Right back up the middle into center field for a single. Sinatro moves up to second. Not great, but it could have been worse."
The next batter laid down a sacrifice bunt right back to Chuck and he made the easy throw to first for the out, but the two runners advanced and now sat on second and third. Sarah saw him look at his left hand again and that worried her.
"… Now the Stanford bullpen is really buzzing. But they're not going out and getting Bartowski yet. I can't understand why. I'm not the one making the decisions, so what do I know? The Cougars have their next man ready to go. Left fielder, Collin Montez, is in the box. Bartowski has the ball. The sign. He checks on the runners. Looks in and throws. Another ball! This one was inside and Montez had to dance out of the way. Bartowski's control is certainly not like it usually is and he knows it. He's frowning as he receives the ball from Grimes. Sign … Check the runners … Here's the throw … Foul! Another one right back to me. Maybe I should ask for a glove of my own up here. What do you all think? Grimes gets a new ball from the man behind the plate and he tosses it to the pitcher. Bartowski steps off the mound to work the ball for a second. Now he uses the rosin bag. Back to the bump. Another sign. Check the runners. Aaand the pitch. Ball! It's another ball. High and outside this time around. The count is 2-1 and I know they don't want to put a reliever in with a count like that, but they better do something quick. I think I know what's really happening. I'll tell you in a minute, but let's see about this next pitch. Here it comes … and there it goes! Not a great hit, but enough. A single to second and Millard couldn't make a throw. Everyone was safe and Sinatro came in to score. Alvarez is now on third. Montez is on first. … Wait! No! Montez just stole second base. Stanford was napping and Montez took advantage of it. Keep your heads in the game, boys. Let the coaches worry about Bartowski and you worry about playing the game."
"Speaking of Bartowski, he's signaling to the dugout. Graham, Bradbury, and the trainer are all out and jogging to the mound. The infield is coming in, too. Hmmm? Can't see too much. Too many bodies in the way, but it looks like the trainer is looking at Bartowski's left hand. I'm guessing he's got a blister on a finger of his pitching hand. It could be something else, but that's my guess. Graham is signaling to the bullpen that he wants the righty, Carson Rudd. Yeah, that's it for Bartowski. He gives the ball to Graham, but he waits and pats Rudd on the back. Bartowski leaves the field with the trainer. Graham and Bradbury stand and watch Rudd's warmup tosses. There are still two guys working in the Cardinal bullpen. With the score now 3-2 in Washington State's favor, Graham will not be taking any chances."
Sarah was devastated. Chuck was hurt. How bad were blisters on a pitcher's finger? Did they heal quickly or was this the end of his baseball career? She wished she could talk to Chuck. Or even Zondra. Maybe she knew something about pitchers and blisters. Part of her knew that there was nothing she could do and she needed to put everything out of her mind and focus on their performance tonight, but she couldn't. Her Chuck was hurting and she wasn't there to help him. Damn it! What was Big Mike saying now?
"… Just got confirmation from the Stanford dugout. Bartowski developed a blister under the callus on his middle finger. When a pitcher injures a finger, they can't grip the ball properly or throw the different pitches they need to be able to throw. The good news is the blister hadn't burst, so, with care, Bartowski will be right as rain in no time. Back on the mound where we want him to be."
Sarah was ecstatic. Chuck's injury wasn't serious. His career wasn't over. He needed to rest and take care of his hand and he'd be just fine. She was finally able to breathe again. Wonderful. They would talk later that night, once the Songbirds' performance was over. Knowing he was OK and she'd be talking to him before the day was over filled her with happiness and her nerves settled down. For the time being.
Rudd turned out to be a bust. He hit the first batter and gave up two singles in a row, scoring the two guys Chuck had left on base. That made Chuck responsible for all 5 runs the Cougars had. Five runs on six hits with two strikeouts and two walks. All of that in only 46 pitches. What a day. Poor baby! Sarah knew the blister would sideline Chuck for a while. How long was the question. She knew Chuck would tell her as soon as he knew a definitive date.
Chuck sat moping a little in the dugout. No one seemed mad at him, but no one was looking at him, either. He felt terrible. Not because of the blister, but because he'd let his teammates down. When he noticed someone standing in front of him, he broke out of his funk and looked up to see Coach Graham looking at him. The older man took the seat next to him.
"Chuck, you messed up," Graham said, without a hint of anger in his voice. "The change in climate here compared to Stanford is partly to blame, but that isn't the only reason you got a blister. You know that right?"
Chuck nodded. "Yes, sir. I know that."
"You've got to take better care of your hands. Without them, you can't pitch. You've been neglecting your callus care, haven't you?" the head coach chided.
"Yes, sir. I know that, too," the pitcher frowned, upset with himself. "You're right. I haven't been as diligent looking after my calluses as I should have been." Chuck hesitated, but forged ahead. "There's been a few mishaps in my lab lately that have taken a bit of a toll on my hands, if I'm being honest."
"I figured as much," Graham replied. "I could see the marks on them. I understand. I do. That just means that you have to be even more careful than these other knuckleheads. Right?"
Chuck grinned and nodded. "I get it, Coach. I'll do better. I promise."
"I know you will, son," Graham smiled. "I'd also ask you not to get lost daydreaming about your girl when it's gametime," he chuckled when Chuck's face turned red. "We've all been where you are right now, Chuck. Including me. Even your father. Trust me," he patted Chuck on the shoulder as he stood up. "I know it's tough to do, but you owe it to the team and to yourself. And to her. To keep your focus on what you're doing. OK?"
"OK, Coach," Chuck nodded, smiling sheepishly.
Sarah and the Songbirds were putting the finishing touches on their hair and makeup in their dressing room backstage at the Elsinore Theater. Like the Fox Theatre in Redwood City, the Elsinore dates from the 1920s. 1926 to be exact. It was constructed in a Tudor Gothic style meant to resemble the castle in the city of Elsinore from Shakespeare's play Hamlet. Old and elegant, it was the perfect place to hold a singing competition. In their well-established routine, the girls transformed themselves into feisty singers while Dr. Beckman dealt with the boring process of checking them in. They'd chosen to wear vintage black Monaco swing dresses that ended just above their knees with black Mary Jane pumps with, Chuck approved, 3 and one-half inch heels that featured a plain strap and buckle. Rather than the 60's style they had used in the quarter finals, the women had arranged their hair in tight buns or side ponytails that caused the hair to cascade over the shoulder. Both styles left their faces free of hair and would allow the audience to witness all of the emotions the song brought out in the singers. The CATS had just distributed the choral gowns they would wear to hide their dresses when Dr. Beckman returned.
"You all are ready. In more ways than one," Dr. Beckman smiled. "Good. Just to recap. Ten schools. California is well represented. Besides us and the ChoirBoyz, there are two groups from UCLA, one from UC Davis, that's the Lounge Lizards, not the Afterglow, in case anyone was wondering." She looked down at the paper in her hand. "Uh … Let's see. Right. The final California entry comes from Cal State Northridge. Two from Oregon, Portland State and Oregon, itself. One from the University of Washington and the last one from up north at the University of British Columbia. Make no mistake. They'll all be good, but you'll be better. I have every confidence." She looked around at the nervous and excited singers. "Take a deep breath." She waited for all of the women to comply. "And let it out, slowly. Good." She nodded. "Now, let's run through the warmups. We need another Chuck victory dance!" Memories of the last victory dance had everyone giggling. The warmups went smoothly, so the Songbirds donned their robes and went out to see what the competition had in store for them.
Sarah's nerves were gone. The calm she felt surprised her, but she wasn't going to question it. It might have had something to do with the text she had received while the girls were enjoying the light meal Dr. Beckman had arranged for them in a private room off of the main dining room back at the hotel. Chuck had told her that he was fine, just embarrassed that he'd neglected a task he was responsible for and he'd let the team down. He also apologized to Sarah assuming, correctly, that she had worried about him.
Fortunately, Stanford had many weapons in its arsenal. After Rudd's less than stellar outing of three batters the remaining relievers shut down the Cougars completely. On the flipside, the Cardinal nine had come to life as the game progressed. They managed to tie the game in the sixth inning and go ahead in the eighth taking the game 8-5, after tacking on another run in the top of the ninth, thanks to Morgan walking and coming around to score when Bobby Malcolm doubled him home. Alex Williams, one of the relief pitchers, rightfully walked away with the victory.
When the singing order was announced, the Songbirds came up next to last, just behind the ChoirBoyz, and just in front of Furmata, the group from the University of Washington. Sarah shared a look with her suitemates. Close, but no cigar. They'd just have to blow everyone away with their performance to make Furmata a non-factor. Dr. Beckman nodded once, emphatically, when she caught Sarah's eye. Everyone settled in to wait. And keep their nerves under control.
Finally, after almost three hours of trying to keep a lid on their energy, the Songbirds got up and filed through the on the left door next to the stage. They reached the wings right before the ChoirBoyz took the stage for their performance. This time out, the boys had spruced up a bit, trading in their cardinal zip-up hooded sweatshirts for cardinal-colored velvet smoking jackets. Their cockiness was the same.
Sarah got everyone's attention. "Forget about them. This night belongs to us. The rest of these groups don't stand a chance," she looked around at her fellow singers. "Chuck was right. They're all in two-inch heels. That's so yesterday. We're gonna knock the lot of 'em on their asses. They've never heard "Rumor Has It" and "Someone Like You" sung like we're going to do it. It's time for the Songbirds Steamroller!" Her face wore a fierce expression that she saw mirrored in all of the faces looking back at her, including Dr. Beckman. Most especially, Dr. Beckman. Chuck was right about that, too, she was a bit scary.
"OK, one more time," Dr. Beckman said. "Let's run through your final warmups." When they finished, they handed their robes to the diminutive advisor.
"Time to kick ass, again," Sarah growled.
"For Chuck," Carina snickered. Some giggles.
"For us," Sarah corrected. Lots of nods and fierce glares. Some girls shook their fists. Showtime.
The Songbirds took the stage and arranged themselves in an arrowhead pattern. Zondra and Sarah, the two lead singers, in front. Four girls in the next rank, three in the next, two behind them, and Lilly alone in the back with a mic as the beatbox percussion. They all wore somber expressions. The crowd held its breath.
Sarah blew her pitch pipe and counted out the tempo. Lilly kicked off the percussion by tapping her chest with the mic. The rest of the singers began to move in time with the beat. After a few moments, they started to sing the melody and harmony. Then Zondra took the lead vocals of "Rumor Has It".
She, she ain't real,
She ain't gonna be able to love you like I will
She is a stranger,
You and I have history,
Or don't you remember?
Sure, she's got it all,
But, baby, is that really what you want?
They all went silent for a couple of beats.
Bless your soul, you've got your head in the clouds
You made a fool out of you
And, boy, she's bringing you down
She made your heart melt
But you're cold to the core,
Now rumor has it she ain't got your love anymore
Sarah and some of the second line of girls joined Zondra in the chorus.
Rumor has it, rumor has it, rumor has it, rumor has it
(Rumor has it, rumor has it, rumor has it, rumor has it)
While the other girls stayed with the chorus, Sarah took over with the lead vocals of "Someone Like You".
Don't forget me, I beg I remember you said
The other girls instantly stopped singing the chorus and the tone softened as Sarah continued to sing alone.
I heard that you're settled down
That you found a girl and you're married now.
I heard that your dreams came true.
Guess she gave you things I didn't give to you.
They picked up the chorus, again.
Rumor has it, rumor has it, rumor has it, rumor has it
(Rumor has it, rumor has it, rumor has it, rumor has it)
The song swung back and forth from fiery and impassioned to sad and longing. Until the end when Zondra softly sang the final verse and Sarah repeated it just as softly.
Sometimes it lasts in love but sometimes it hurts instead
Sometimes it lasts in love but sometimes it hurts instead
The audience was totally silent for a couple of seconds when the song ended, as if they weren't sure if the song was truly over. It shouldn't have surprised anyone; the songs they'd mashed up were both big hits for Adele. Then the audience erupted. The other groups knew what they had just seen and they shouted their appreciation and approval. It took a while to calm everyone down so that the final group could perform. The singers from Washington gave it a valiant effort and were actually very good. It was too bad for them that they had to perform after the Songbirds show stopping number.
When the last group walked off stage, looking a little dejected, it didn't take the judges terribly long to announce the winners. To everyone's surprise, Furmata, the group from the University of Washington placed third with 313 points. They perked up considerably after that. The Scattertones from UCLA came in second with 350 points. And the Songbirds took the top prize with 411 points. It wasn't even close by acapella standards. The crowd roared its agreement with the judges scoring. The ChoirBoyz were also smiling and cheering. Even Bumper! A group from Stanford was going to the finals!
"Oh my God!" Carina screamed joyfully. "We're in the finals! Oh my God!" Her screams just blended in with the rest of the group. Even Dr. Beckman was grinning like a fool and dancing a jig.
"I can't wait to see Curl's victory dance this time!" Zondra crowed, the happy tears streaming down her face.
"Me either!" Sarah agreed, swiping at her own tears and laughing.
A/N2: Chapter title comes from the song by Queen. Perfect song for this chapter. Not the lyrics, exactly, but the sentiment is appropriate.
A/N3: The Songbirds performance in this chapter is also borrowed from Glee, given my lack of musical mash-up skills. A wonderful song choice for empowered women, maybe the best from the series. Google "Glee Rumor Has It" to listen if you're interested. Once again, picture the percussion, melody, and harmony being performed by the Songbirds instead of instruments.
A/N4: Rumor Has It / Someone Like You lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group, Downtown Music Publishing, BMG Rights Management. Songwriters: Adele Laurie Blue Adkins / Daniel Dodd Wilson / Ryan B Tedder. Selected verses have been used without permission for entertainment purposes only.
A/N5: WillieGarvin brushed the dust and debris off of my meager words and helped me publish something better than it was before. Thank you for all of the correcting and polishing work that you do, my friend.
A/N6: Thank you for reading. Please drop me a PM or leave a review. Let me know what you think. For those of you who have left reviews or PMs previously, thank you. I appreciate each and every one of them.
A/N7: If you enjoy Chuck fan fiction here on the fanfic site, go over to Facebook and join the Chuck Fanfiction group that's there. You'll find nice folks who share your interest in our favorite spy couple. You are not alone.