[Pommpie]

Why, yes, I did take, like, almost a month to write the second chapter. I'll do that. Sometimes I'll write an immense amount in a short period, sometimes I won't write a thing in a long one. This was one of the latter. Hopefully I won't take this long every time! I do try not to be one of those guys who stops story-writing the instant he doesn't get immense critical acclaim. I try.

Chapter Two: The Storm Before the Calm

As it turned out, Mitch Daniels, at least temporarily, did not have to worry. The 1-5 start soon gave way to a 7-1 run, and there was plenty of joking about the "lucky cooking show". The team was on one of those peculiar streaks common to every ballclub, and as Mitch Daniels and his compadres gathered at the Bowden Bowl on Whyte Avenue for drinks and recreation, every bloody one of them knew it. Daniels had run his batting average to .321 with a team-leading 14 RBI from the leadoff spot. Meanwhile, the great Xiang-ling Xun had fallen to .271 and had sent up only a single round-tripper during the streak.

The round-tripper came in a tight game on April 15 in Salem, against the Bingoes. The team's alleged ace, Adam Wallace, was taking the start, and Xun staked Wallace to a 1-0 lead in the second by swatting a solid solo shot to right. Wallace cruised for the first inning, retiring the side in order, then allowed the next three baserunners. Light-hitting third baseman Dani Mélendez slapped a seeing-eye single into centre to give Salem a 2-1 lead after the inning. In the top of the third, however, Xiang-Ling Xun came up with runners on the corners and stroked a line drive to centre. Xun happily stopped at first, but the blazing Denny King got on his horse, churning up a cloud of gravel as he beat Félix Serrano's throw from centre to restore a one-run lead. In the ninth, with the erratic Roberto Sánchez in to close and runners standing on the corners, Rick Lewis stood in as a defensive replacement in centre and managed to gun down the potential game-tying sacrifice fly at the plate with what Kelsey Bowden happily admitted was "the most unexpected cannon I'd ever seen" to end the ballgame. Meanwhile, Adam Wallace threw 98 pitches in five innings while still recovering from shoulder surgery, picked up the win, and walked out of the park after the game without talking to a soul.

In Eugene on April 18, however, things went less well for Sánchez. Veteran starting pitcher Kichibei Fujita was on the hill and struggled, going six innings, walking three, and throwing a heinous 121 pitches before Kelsey Bowden finally went to his bullpen. Even then, the Civics held a 6-4 lead thanks to a two-out grand slam by Mitch Daniels in the fourth. But after giving Charles-Emile Sirois a single effective inning, Bowden went back to the erratic Sánchez.

For four innings.

Sixty-three pitches, thirty-three strikes later, and a game-tying Rick Shaw double in the eighth later (Shaw held not only the most obvious nickname in the United League but also a .230 career batting average), Eugene's infielder Sancho Sánchez (no relation) hit a single in the bottom of the twelfth. As though his memory were jogged, Bowden called in the usual closer four innings too late: 22-year-old Dusty Gill. Gill immediately let Sánchez across the plate and the Civics dropped the game 7-6, ending their winning streak at five games.

The team was half-new, and many of the players were still feeling each other out as individuals. Regardless, some sharp clique divisions were already beginning to form themselves, of which the largest was centred around the big, gregarious first baseman Pancho Gonzalez, who had been a Civic since 1992, stroked 619 hits and 82 home runs with Edmonton, and was the acknowledged clubhouse leader from way back. As such, he'd found himself almost automatically associating with many of the new ball players as soon as a ballgame ended. On the other hand, the three Taiwanese players (catcher Ki-tae Yi, shortstop Xiang-ling Xun, and outfielder Wei-kang Kao) tended to stick together. Though only Xun was particularly antisocial towards the rest of the team (and Ki-tae had told Mitch many times that he didn't speak much around -them- either), it was regardless clear who their close friends were.

One man who belonged to nobody was the ace of the pitching staff, Adam Wallace. As the team congratulated each other in the AGT Field clubhouse following a 4-2 win over the Boise Idahoes, Adam merely sat off to the side, his hands folded in front of him, his eyes boring holes into the locker. Bum shoulder and all, Wallace was up to a 3-1 record, with respectable numbers all around.

His new fellow starter, Joe Bascombe, plunked himself down on the bench beside Wallace. Bascombe was born in New York but was a veteran of the Japanese league, and at age 36 had been lured back to North America with the promise of a regular spot in the rotation. Almost 2,000 career professional strikeouts, mostly in the high-quality Japanese league, but his best days were well in his rear-view mirror and he, too, worked cheap. However, the left-handed ace was among the few not happy to see Bascombe arrive: that said, Adam Wallace was very seldom happy to see anybody do anything other than strike out against him.

"Good start, Adam," Bascombe declared, punching Wallace jauntily in the shoulder. Already, Joe Bascombe was clearly one of those guys who tried a little too hard to lighten things up and be the admired veteran leader: since he'd just spent ten years in the same clubhouse in Tokyo, though, he could be forgiven for working a little too hard. Forgiven by most people other than Adam Wallace, who slowly turned his head and gazed at the senior starter balefully. If baseball was really like "Bull Durham", Adam Wallace was the sort of guy who'd punch Kevin Costner in the neck the instant he even thought about giving away one of his pitches. Indeed, he'd probably have punched Kevin Costner in the neck just for Dances With Wolves.

"Sod off, Bascombe." Wallace's voice was quiet, more irritated than really angry, as though the veteran right-hander was merely a mosquito.

Joe Bascombe blinked at this unexpected rebuke, eyes narrowing on Wallace slightly. He glanced around the cavernous dressing room as though groping for support, but silence reigned supreme. Off in the corner of the clubhouse, Kelsey Bowden stood somewhat awkwardly, fidgeting from side to side, but this was the closest anybody got to an actual reaction for several seconds.

"He gets like that." Xiang-Ling Xun piped up from his corner locker as he unbuttoned his jersey, looking at the two pitchers with a superior little smile. "Very reclusive." His tone was not entirely unapproving.

Still, Bascombe did not let it bother him on the mound. His debut came in AGT Field against the Port Angeles Angels and their hard-hitting lineup. Catcher Alberto Rodríguez was known for his immense height, his nearly-as-imposing girth, and his ability to rope line drives into the outfield as though he were just having fun out there. 21-year-old designated hitter/backup catcher Carl King was much smaller but nearly as impressive at the dish, and former University of Saskatchewan baller Mike Miller drove in homers from the cleanup spot. It was not the best team to make your debut against.

In the third inning, light-hitting Rick Lewis hit a homer off Homer Tyler, the most unfortunately named pitcher in the United League forced to gawk as Lewis took the trot for the first time that season. From there, however, Bascombe began to cruise. Coming out for the fourth with a 1-0 lead, Bascombe promptly struck out the side. He struck out another in the fifth, inspiring Lewis to pick up another extra-base hit and knock a double into left to bring Pancho González easily from third. Homer Tyler and, in the seventh, his replacement Clarence Blair utterly failed to get going, walking batter after batter and yielding a three-run seventh inning.

In the top of the eighth, however, Bascombe began to labour. It was his first start of the season, and he was thirty-five years old. Still, with nine strikeouts and no runs allowed to that point, he had been keeping it locked in cruise control, until ninth hitter John Holley managed to leg out an infield hit with none out to send up the top of the order.

"Come on, Joeeey!" Mitch Daniels yelled from second, slapping his hand into his glove like a father cheering on his fat catcher son trying to stretch out a triple during a Little League game. At short, Xiang-Ling Xun merely gazed over towards Daniels, eyes narrowed slightly, arms hanging loosely at his side, expression practically oozing scorn. Meeting the shortstop's gaze, Daniels added an unnecessary holler of "Get an out!" towards the mound. Xun scowled faintly.

Luis Reyes got set at the plate and swung at the first pitch, as Frankie "the Fox" Truro made the call from the press box.

"Reyes stings it to short... Xun comes up with it, to Daniels, to Gárcia, double play." Around the veteran broadcaster, the sparse crowd erupted in direct contrast to his simple tone, for the Fox had a knack of making every play sound less interesting than it was. Xiang-Ling Xun had thrown himself at the ball with almost reckless abandon, coming up with it on the hop and managing to fire it to second, whereupon Mitch Daniels easily beat Reyes with the throw to first. Eight hundred fans stood and applauded, Joe Bascombe tipped his hat to second base, and Daniels did something he very seldom did: he went over to Xiang-Ling Xun and offered him a hand up off the gravel.

"Good play," Mitch mumbled under his breath.

"Thanks," mumbled Xiang-Ling even more quietly.

Despite their sporadic animosity, the Civics' two star infielders were beginning to develop a rapport. Despite his reputation as a prima-donna, Xiang-Ling Xun was one of the best and hardest working defensive shortstops in minor league baseball, and his spectacular range had saved the Civics more than one run over the years. Meanwhile, Mitch Daniels was a steady, attentive, and reliable second baseman, who made only a handful of errors and despite his advancing years could finish a double play with the best of them.

The Xun-Daniels double play combo was already starting to gel, and both Xiang-Ling Xun (whose previous second baseman, now-third-baseman Dave Garner, was an overly flashy infielder known for firing the ball into the dugout) and Mitch Daniels (whose previous year with AAA Wilkes-Barre was mostly spent as a designated hitter so 20-something kids could develop by dropping pop flies) were very pleased with participating in an actual infield. Despite themselves, a certain mutual respect was beginning to develop between the middle infielders.

Joe Bascombe, on the other hand, began to struggle, giving up consecutive singles with two out. Melvin Stewart, however, came in for the ninth and got the save, and the Civics picked up a 6-3 victory over the Angels. They picked up a 4-2 win the next day. Two losses followed, but by April 30 the Civics had won three more games consecutively.

The Trail Smelters, struggling in the league under manager Phill Guay, sent the equally struggling Luis Vela to the hill. Edmonton countered with Adam Wallace, even more peturbed than usual since Joe Bascombe had begun taking the limelight from him. Bascombe's second start had been a complete game shutout with ten strikeouts, and the proud Wallace was irritated at the thought of being the team's second-best arm.

At 6'3", Adam Wallace was one of those Big Pitchers who were coming into vogue. He'd been selected in 1987's 22nd round and had immediately gone about trying to prove that he should have gone earlier, devestating the rookie ranks from Dunedin, Florida. A quick callup seemed inevitable, but Wallace's body had other plans. 20 years old at the time, he had been healthy as an ox, with a solid 95-mph fastball and a dizzying array of breaking and off-speed pitches. But a small back twinge on the mound had been enough to force him onto the disabled list for the rest of the year. And, after aggravating the injury in spring training and requiring surgery, all the next year as well. In 1989, Adam Wallace went into spring training with a fastball that topped out at 89 and a sinker that hung up as though inviting the hitter to pound the hell out of it. That was it for Adam Wallace as a major league prospect.

A lesser man might have sold dishwashers at that point, but Adam Wallace was not a lesser man. He rehabbed hard, and in 1992 appeared with the Guasave Atlantics in the Mexican winter league. In 1993, he moved on to Mexicali, his numbers steadily improving, his breaking stuff beginning to work for him again, his arm beginning to round into shape once more. By 1995, Adam Wallace went from having no baseball career to 5-4 with a respectable 3.76 ERA on a bad Quintana Roo team in the Mexican Baseball League. But in 1996, the back flared up again. Wallace pitched through it, and pitched badly, his ERA ballooning to almost six before he was finally forced to shut it down. He was traded to the Edmonton Civics just in time for the beginning of the 1997, having once again fallen out of a major international league.

Now, with success beginning to arrive for Wallace, he was facing a challenge: a 38-year-old who had won everything there was to win in the second-best league on Earth stealing the limelight. And while nobody in Edmonton doubted that Adam Wallace was the ace in the rotation, he had long ago refused to settle for second-best.

Times started out tough for Wallace. Speedy second baseman and leadoff man Chung Shang lined a double to right field to open the game, and Wallace blew an 0-2 count against Alex Ayala to make it 3-2. But the tenacious Wallace managed to get Ayala to fly out, and from there on he was in his element. Ki-tae Yi caught Shang stealing, and Wallace struck out Nick Stead on three pitches to end the inning. In the bottom of the first, Mitch Daniels had hardly stepped into the batter's box when he swung at Luis Vela's first pitch and drove it into left field, knocking out his first leadoff home run as a Civic.

"That's six, Xiang-Ling!" Daniels called to the shortstop mid-jog as Xun stood soberly in the dugout. Xiang-Ling Xun was tied for first on the team in homers with eight.

Up in the press box, Rich Walcott watched the drama unfold below him. Beside him sat Frankie Truro, the play-by-play man sitting idle as his radio station did not call Wednesday games (the broadcast would clash with a much more popular weekly programme featuring an American radio host who accepted callers and spent most of his time yelling). There weren't many better people to watch a baseball game with than the 78-year-old Truro: he had seen it all, he was more popular in Edmonton than any general manager could be, and he wasn't an employee of the ballclub, meaning he was quite happy to speak his mind.

"They're really not doing badly out there," Walcott murmured, his voice obscured by the hands tented in front of his mouth. García and King had just struck out in short order, but Xiang-Ling Xun had a 3-0 count and watched Vela with the calm air of a man fully expecting a base on balls and who had brought his bat merely out of deference to tradition.

"Not badly for the money, you mean," Truro replied, his voice every bit as calm and unpassionate as it was on the radio.

Walcott glanced over towards the radio man. "The highest-paid player on this ball club just hit a homer on his first pitch, and the second-highest-paid is currently throwing a one-hitter." Of course, it was the bottom of the first, and Pancho González had just joined Xiang-Ling Xun on a walking tour of the basepaths. "What do you want from me? It's the United League."

The Fox was unruffled, as always, by Walcott's rising voice. "From my experience, I'm not sure the fans are here to watch a team get good value for its payroll. How much were you making when you were with Salem, Rich?"

The general manager shook his head, as much at Truro's statement as Ki-tae Yi striking out below him, allowing Luis Vela to say that he struck out the side while walking two and allowing a homer. "That was a few years ago, Frankie. Kinda hard to pay through the nose for a baseball team when the fans won't pay through the nose to watch it. We're first in the division and look." The crowd, as it had been all season, was uninspiring.

"What's there to watch, Rich? You have one unpopular star shortstop, a couple hired guns with a thousand-odd games on their odometers, and a bunch of guys named Fred. Half these guys are gone at the end of the year... you're telling me you can afford to resign Xiang-Ling Xun? You're telling me that if Rick Lewis keeps batting like this you'll be able to keep him? And good luck holding onto Adam Wallace if he can keep going..."

"My job," and Walcott's voice grew increasingly terse, "is to keep baseball in this city. This team is losing all sorts of money. I can't afford to go out and throw money at the problem. I can just get rid of all the salary I can and spend the rest as wisely as possible."

Frankie Truro glanced over at Rich Walcott, and paused for a moment. "Maybe you can't afford not to throw money at the problem," he said, and his voice was somewhat quieter than usual. "The fans haven't been staying away because the team's bad. They've been staying away because they can't see more than five of the players from last season."

For once, Rich Walcott was silent, looking down at Adam Wallace, Dalton Brown, and an absolutely unfair cutter from Wallace that sent Brown spiralling to the dirt.

The Civics won 5-1. At month's end, they were 16-12, atop the North Division by two games over Billings, and primed for another successful Civics season: solid everywhere, except at the ticket counter. All around the cities, the handful of modestly-heeled investors could only watch their bank accounts nervously.

Coming up: Chapter Three: Big Money, Little Else