[Pommpie]

Well, that only took, what, two and a half months? You know how it is: this chapter didn't precisely write itself and I was hardly ever able to sit down to churn some writing out. Still very much alive, though, and I'm still very much enjoying feebly trying to put this thing together. Hopefully the next chapter will be a bit quicker (so expect it sometime in 2010).

That said, I was still only on page two of the dynasties forum. So... uh... good? Small victories, guys. Let's relish the small victories.

Chapter Eight: The Hurting Heroes

Salem, Oregon was a lousy place to spend Opening Day. The state capital was not exactly renowned for excitement or a consuming passion for baseball. The Salem ballpark, imaginatively named Salem Field, was the smallest in the United League: a decrepit, unpleasant building which reeked of sweaty socks, which had only bench seating for all but the highest-paying ticketholders, and which had an atrocious grass field. The only hotels near the ballpark were roach-infested monstrosities, the beer was expensive, and (sadly for the 20-year-old players) the bartenders actually checked ID. The only consolation for visiting teams was that the Bingoes hadn't been very good for a few seasons, and you could usually hope for a win or two in a three-game series.

Still, some poor bastards had to show up to give the Bingoes somebody to play. This year, the sorry duty fell to the Edmonton Civics.

"My favourite thing about Salem," veteran outfielder Scott Deakin had said as the team bus rattled through the city, "is that you can catch a train to Vancouver. Shame there's no time for that on a road trip." In the seat beside him, R.J. Yeo nodded boredly, listening to his CD player and tapping his finger on his knee.

Turning towards Yeo, Deakin did a double-take when he saw the earbuds in Yeo's ears. "Jesus Christ, R.J.," Deakin cried, jerking the CD player out of the unexpecting pitcher's relaxed grip. "What can you possibly be listening to that's more interesting than Salem, Oregon?"

Yeo sputtered various objections as Deakin pressed the eject button on the CD player, fighting for it with the pitcher even as the lid opened. "Limp Bizkit?" Deakin asked, incredulity creeping into his tone. "Limp Bizkit? Are you kidding me, Yeo? Is this some kind of joke?" Deakin shielded the CD player with his back even as he turned to give an accusing glare to the young pitcher.

"They're not bad," Yeo protested, clawing for the CD player as the larger Deakin successfully kept it away. "Seriously. Their second album's supposed to come out sometime soon and I'm going to be listening to that on the bus too..."

This was a mistake. "Jesus, son," Deakin said, popping the CD out of the player. "I've got to get rid of this before you erase your brain." Lifting the CD, Deakin stuck his hand out the window.

"Do it!" yelled a voice from the back of the bus.

"Come on, Scott..." R.J. said plaintively, but the plastic disc fell from Deakin's hand, smacking across the interstate and rolling off into the distance."

As the bus roared with laughter and Deakin tossed the CD player back to Yeo, the pitcher grumped, "You guys are assholes."

The Civics which started off 1998 were little like the ones which had begun 1997. Luis Reyes, Bob Zasko, Jesse Cantrell, Greg Hubbard, Nelson González, Ángel García, and Michael White were all new to the starting lineup from one year ago. Only Xiang-ling Xun and Denny King remained, with the shortstop successfully browbeating Kelsey Bowden into letting him start in spite of his healing wrist. The starting pitcher, at least, was familiar: Adam Wallace would take the ball for Edmonton for his second consecutive Opening Day. Against him stood another old face in César Torres, entering his sixth year with the Bingoes and at 27 years old just running into his prime as a pitcher.

The start was, at least by the standards of Salem, rousing. Luis Reyes flew out to lead off the 1998 baseball season, but utility outfielder Bob Zasko, in for Bill Williams and the proud owner of one professional home run, hit Torres's changeup on a 2-1 pitch harder than he had any right to. The ball flew out to right field, narrowly clearing both the wall and Yeo-san Ch'on's outstretched glove, to give the Civics a 1-0 lead.

Despite his preseason dominance, Adam Wallace slipped slightly when his turn came up to defend that lead. A leadoff single to Ch'on and a fielder's choice left designated hitter Chris Lynch on first, a tall and lean man widely regarded as the quickest DH in professional baseball. So when Jorge Gonzáles hit a double into centre with Lynch on second, the run was a sure thing. Wallace managed to strike out Kosaku Suzuki on a nice fastball to end the inning, but the damage was done.

"Goddammit!" Wallace had yelled as he stormed back to the dugout. "I hung that curve. I hung it and that son-of-a-bitch Gonzáles was all over it." Grabbing his warmup jacket angrily, the pitcher stamped into his seat as he pulled it on to shield him from the chilly April air. The new Civics around him shuffled away with a mixture of respect and fear: most of them hadn't been around long enough to be used to Adam Wallace's erratic behaviour, and when they noticed Kelsey Bowden distinctly avoiding him they had decided to follow their skipper's lead, avoiding even a glance in Wallace's direction as if he were throwing a no-hitter and not merely swearing at his curveball.

It took Bob Zasko to respond to the pitcher, and he did it in his typically friendly and polite way. "Jesus, Wallace!" the centre-fielder yelled, leaning forward off the bench to fix the pitcher with a glare. "So you hung a pitch. Stop whining and actually think about your baseball for a change." Leaning back into the bench, Zasko mouthed an oath as the other players flickered their gaze between Zasko and Wallace, and as Kelsey Bowden tried to avoid looking at anybody.

The only sound was that of the ball bouncing off of a bat and that of Nelson González charging from third, ploughing into Salem catcher Manny Figueroa and being called out. Wallace almost went purple, his glare on Zasko heating up to such an extent that even the tall centre-fielder was beginning to wilt. It took the end of half an inning to rouse Wallace from his fury, and he and his fielders jogged out to play some defense.

Almost as soon as Wallace retook the mound, leadoff man Ernest Pratt promptly singled. Wallace's curse echoed through the stadium, and parents put their hands over their children's ears.

It's said that you can't pitch angry. For Adam Wallace, however, pitching angry had become as natural as breathing and picking fights with teammates. Pratt's single roused the fury in Wallace, and, with his pitches dancing around (and, often enough, out of) the strike zone, he struck out Manuel González and Yeo-san Ch'on in quick succession, before getting Chris Lynch to feebly ground out to short. Inning over.

What emerged was a classic pitching duel between Wallace and Torres. In the top of the fourth, Torres struck out Jesse Cantrell after Cantrell managed to foul off six magnificent pitches, and Wallace replied in the bottom by striking out the side. It wasn't until the top of the seventh that one side got something going. Torres walked the catcher Ángel García after García survived a 2-2 count by fouling off three pitches, and a fielder's choice left the far faster Michael White at first. A Denny King single moved White to third, and as if sensing a collapse, the Bingoes went to the bullpen, sending in unremarkable 32-year-old southpaw Kimi Abe. Too little, too late. On his first pitch, Abe allowed the speedy King to swipe second, and on his second he yielded a line drive single to Luis Reyes, scoring both White and King and making it 3-1 Civics. Wallace lasted another two thirds of an inning before being pulled for Masamune Okawa, with one earned run to his credit.

In the top of the eighth, the Civics picked up some insurance. Nelson González singled home Jesse Cantrell to pick up his first professional RBI and make it 4-1 Edmonton. The struggling Abe intentionally walked Greg Hubbard before González's at-bat and accidentally walked Ángel García after, leaving Hubbard on third, González on second, and García on first. A wild pitch scored Hubbard and moved the runners, allowing Michael White's grounder to send González home. 40-year-old Simon Bond, a fixture of bullpens around the minors for twenty years, came in to save the rest of the inning, but the Civics had rushed to a lead they would not give up. Masamune Okawa allowed a run in the bottom of the ninth but it was irrelevant, as the Civics won the opener 6-2. In six and two-thirds, Wallace struck out eight, walked two, and allowed five hits to get the win.

There was no night of partying in wild Salem, but the team still looked hung over the next night when they dropped the second half of their two-game set 8-2. Roberto Espinoza became the next Civic to try and shrug off an ailment, opting to pitch through his nasty case of strep throat, and getting lit up like a pinball machine for his trouble as he allowed five earned runs and four walks in five and two-thirds. The only bright spots for Espinoza were that he managed to strike out five Bingoes batters in that time, and that reliever Masamune Okawa was even worse, going a third of an inning and picking up three earned runs of his own thanks to a Manny Figueroa homer before Kelsey Bowden mercifully gave him the hook.

The next day was an off-day, spent taking the long bus ride from Salem back to Edmonton, where the Civics would host the Pueblo Anchors for a three-game set, welcoming back a few former Civics in the process. Wei-kang Nao would be back in Edmonton for the first time since his trade to Pueblo, and former Civic Kichibei Fujita was slated to pitch the third game of the series. Meanwhile, a mob of old Anchors would be encountering their old teammates for the first time as Civics.

The series got off on the wrong foot for the Civics. With R.J. Yeo on the hill you could usually expect a solid outing, but four earned runs in seven and two-thirds was not up to the durable southpaw's usual standard. Meanwhile, while Jesse Cantrell drove in Luis Reyes in the bottom of the first inning, the Civics mustered only one additional run later in the game, and not even a fantastic three strikeout night by former Civic Wei-kang Nao slowed the Anchors down as they took a rather casual 6-2 victory.

The next two nights, however, things began to get back on track. After a three-run six-inning start from Melvin Stewart, the Civics bullpen shut down the Anchors in game two of the series and allowed Xiang-ling Xun's seventh-inning home run to stand up as the winning margin in a 4-3 victory. The next night, the mediocre Kichibei Fujita was unexpectedly solid for seven innings, while Anchor alumnus Yosuke Sakurai allowed five earned runs and didn't escape the fourth inning. Once again, though, the bullpen was lights out. Felix Vásquez and Dusty Gill each threw three and a third, while second baseman Michael White's first home run as a Civic sent the game to extra innings and Jesse Cantrell won the game with a walk-off bomb in the bottom of the tenth.

These two games kicked off a minor streak for the Civics. Pancho González returned to the lineup the next night for a home game against Trail, and while Luis Veya threw a complete game for the Smelters, Adam Wallace was absolutely lights-out, pitching eight innings, striking out nine, not allowing a run, and running his ERA down to a scanty 0.61. The Civics mustered only two runs but, with Wallace continuing to pitch like his life depended on it, that was plenty. Embattled reliever Masamune Okawa completed a splendid night by getting the save without so much as breaking a sweat, and the Civics won 2-0 on their way to a sweep of the three-game series.

By the end of the Civics series, the team was officially firing on all cylinders. Jesse Cantrell was raking the ball: the former Anchor was hitting .433 with three home runs and seven runs batted in, all best on the team. Stars like Xiang-ling Xun and Luis Reyes were pulling their weight. Michael White, usually the ninth hitter in the lineup, boasted a .286 batting average. Catcher Ángel García was perhaps the biggest surprise. His earlier disappointment about coming to Edmonton had by no means receded, but he had managed to hit .318 so far this year. Better, his defense was a big upgrade over the mediocre former starter Ki-tae Yi, and while baserunners had once run wild on the Civics, they now did so at their own peril. On the bench, utility players like Scott Deakon and Nelson González were helping the team both with their bat and their glove. Even the pitching was holding up: R.J. Yeo was finally starting to come around, Roberto Espinoza was holding up, and Adam Wallace was the early favourite for most valuable player.

Naturally, it was high time for it to start to go wrong.

The Civics went into Billings and were promptly swept in their three-game set. In the last game of the series, a 6-5 loss, R.J. Yeo threw six pitches before tearing a tricep muscle and leaving the game. It was the third tear Yeo had suffered in nine months, and the expressions of the team doctors were grim. "R.J.," said one of the medical staff, "might end up having to make a decision sooner rather than later."

"It's really not a big deal," Yeo, enthusiastic as always, had explained to the media after his latest injury. "It wasn't like I tore the same muscle three times or anything, so I'm not overstraining one joint or something. I'm sure I'll be back on the mound before the end of the season." He had grinned at the reporters, but the somewhat shell-shocked look on the team physician's face was far more telling. Excited and optimistic though the young pitcher was, the reality was far more serious that he would publicly acknowledge or even consider on his own. Yeo went on the sixty-day injured reserve and William Lafontaine, who had compiled an 0-6 record with a 5.34 ERA and a .281 opponent's batting average with Edmonton in 1997, was brought up from the reserve list.

Though it was only the first month of the season, the Civics were proving unable to keep a consistent lineup together. Injuries and inconsistency were colliding to make Kelsey Bowden's job far more difficult: Pancho González was back and hitting well with a .391 on-base percentage, but as he tried to get his timing back his accustomed power had not yet reasserted itself. Bill Williams, the best player in the United League in 1997, was still on the mend with his fractured cheekbone, and with Abbotsford native Bob Zasko playing in left the team was losing something like 200 points of batting average. Even after a 2-for-4 night in Billings during Yeo's last game, Zasko was hitting a ludicrous .143, seven points better than starting pitcher Adam Wallace had mustered in 1997 during his season-ending stint as a designated hitter but still almost remarkably lousy. Worse, third baseman Greg Hubbard, allegedly a starting player, was hitting below .150 without his usual power numbers.

In the pitching rotation, Adam Wallace was being Adam Wallace and Roberto Espinoza was living up to expectations, but 30-year-old Melvin Stewart was struggling. Stewart was a solid veteran pitcher for the Civics and had played 66 games in 1997, but his return to the rotation had not yet been a pleasant one.

On April 26, Stewart took the hill against the Port Angeles Angels, looking to put his mediocre starts behind him. His adversary was Halifax native Damien Pedneault, a solid but unspectacular pitcher in his third season with Port Angeles. An average finesse pitcher, Pedneault's splitfinger was renowned in the United League but he was no ace: the perfect slumpbuster for the struggling Civics.

Naturally, in the top of the first, Pedneault embarrassed the top of Edmonton's order. Luis Reyes ground out to second on a 1-1 pitch, Denny King struck out, and Xiang-ling Xun followed Reyes almost perfectly to second baseman Carl Thomas to end the first half of the inning in rapid time. Melvin Stewart, meanwhile, had a little more trouble but got the results: his first out came on a highlight-reel snag by Pancho González as the usually mediocre fielder dove to steal a hit from Port Angeles's leadoff man Dave Cooper. Against Alex Chambers, Stewart got an 0-2 count but then threw three consecutive balls before finally striking Chambers out, and while Mike Miller grounded out to second, it was on an ill-advised cut at a 2-0 pitch.

Stewart had done the job in his first inning, but his expression as he returned to the dugout was less than enthusiastic. Receiving a pat on the back from Jesse Cantrell as the designated hitter went out to leadoff the inning, Stewart dropped himself into his spot on the bench, not even looking up as his warmup jacket was tossed over his shoulders by a bat boy.

"It's not there, guys," the veteran cried to nobody in particular with a smile on his face. Kelsey Bowden looked back from his usual spot on the dugout stairs but didn't say anything. "It's just not there. Jesus, we're going to need some runs tonight!"

Soft-spoken though he was, Melvin Stewart had never been the most confident reliever. Over the years, most of his actual worry had dissipated with his success, but self-deprecating humour at awkward moments remained a hallmark of his. Looking over to Pancho González, technically on deck but spending most of his time chatting at the dugout than warming up, Stewart cracked a smile. One which Pancho returned only reluctantly: he had known Stewart for many years and he'd always suspected that such 'jokes' were merely a cover for a genuine lack of confidence.

"Come on, Mel," González called down, his voice maintaining a false jocular mood. "It's still 0-0. Anybody's ballgame." Outside, there was the faint sound of a crack as Cantrell made solid contact on a pitch, driving it into the gap in left-centre field. A better player would have had a double but for Jesse Cantrell, barely capable of outrunning continential drift, a single would have to suffice.

The pitcher laughed, grinning far too widely and shaking his head as he looked up to González. "Pancho, buddy," he said, and his tone while friendly was also somewhat condescending, like a father explaining to a child why he couldn't play in traffic, "you're a good guy and all, but you're not a pitcher. Some nights you have it, some nights you don't, and tonight I just don't!" Another laugh, as if he was trying to act far more amused than he actually was.

Midway through his sentence, there was an alarming crash off the top of the dugout as Greg Hubbard fouled one off in their direction. Most of the Civics winced, but Stewart seem unaffected.

"Just don't sweat it, Mel," Pancho retorted, over the sound of another ball being fouled off behind home plate. The first baseman had been a teammate of Stewart's for many years, had seen many of these fits, and still continued to try and help Stewart get through them every time one came up. "You can handle things out there tonight. You've beaten better guys than this before in your sleep. I know it, you know it, the rest of these assholes know it..." the collection of assholes in question made no reply, "so just take a deep breath, close your eyes, and go out and jesus!"

This cry had been caused by the sound of either a small nuclear bomb going off or Greg Hubbard hitting a ball with all his might: the sight of Hubbard standing at home, his bat gripped in his right hand and angled over his shoulder as he admired his shot implied the latter. Hubbard didn't so much as twitch as his ball flew, and there was no need to: it was clear the wall in left field by dozens of feet. As a unit, the Civics leapt to their feet to watch the ball fly, and the instant it was past the billboard for Chip's Fish and Chips in left field, the entire team (including Melvin Stewart) burst out in a roar of approval. Hubbard took his slow jog around the bases as the howls of joy from the Civics (and the howls of derision from the Port Angeles faithful) rained down upon him, and was met at home by Cantrell and González, the former high-fiving Hubbard firmly and the latter giving Hubbard a large, awkward but exuberant bearhug.

"Jesus, you hit the hell out of that one!" Pancho yelled as the two scorers retreated to the dugout, before assuming his place in the batter's box.

One of Pancho González's flaws as a baseball player was that he could be a bit of a free swinger: though his on-base percentages and walk numbers were always reasonable, things could get away from him a bit. Sensing that Pedneault was struggling already, González went into the batter's box thinking "home run", and he kept thinking "home run" until his leviathan cut at a perfect splitter twisted him around in futility for strike three.

Angel García, the next batter, struck out looking. However, with two of the Civics best hitters already retired, it was time for the mediocre players to step to the front: Bob Zasko lacked power but he had speed in abundance. A light smack of the ball down towards third was all he needed to get aboard with an infield hit, and when Michael White followed by hitting a liner to centre, it was runners on first and second with the leadoff hitter up.

Luis Reyes struck out looking.

"Come on!" Pancho González roared from the dugout, leaping to the top of the stairs. "Are you kidding me? That was way outside, you goddamned clown!" González's criticisms were lost in a general roar of indignation from the Civics dugout and the sound of the Port Angeles fans applauding their pitcher as he got out of a jam.

"Bastard allowed four hits, two runs, and struck out the side," Xiang-ling Xun mumbled to Pancho as he grabbed his glove. "Maybe you should swing less and watch more." The shortstop was gone before Pancho could come up with a witty reply, and the seething Civics took their places in the field.

Eduardo Reyes (no relation) led off the inning for the Angels, and the Civics frustration at the previous half-inning showed immediately. Reyes slapped a routine grounder to Xiang-ling Xun at short. The mercurial shortshop seldom let his irritation show, but he was a baseball player. Like all baseball players, he had the ability to take something as minor as a missed balls-and-strikes call and let it stew in his head until, trying to make the throw far too quickly, he fired the ball over Pancho González's head and into the outfield.

As the shortstop roared a string of profanity that was as out-of-character for him as the fielding error was, Luis Reyes tracked down the ball and hurried it to second: too late. Eduardo Reyes was on second thanks to the error.

The next batter went little better as Curt Roberts smacked a line drive to first. It was a difficult play and Pancho González dove for it, but what resulted was the worst thing possible: he hit the ball with his glove but not enough to stop it. He merely slowed it down and changed its direction, forcing Luis Reyes (who had already been hustling for the ball) to jerkily change direction and giving Roberts and Reyes more time on the basepaths. Reyes scored and Roberts ended up with a standup double, making it a two-run game.

"I just don't have it tonight, Pancho!" Melvin Stewart called to first with a light grin, in spite of the fact that both hits were due to fielding mistakes.

"Just pitch, will you?" retorted the first baseman angrily, brushing some gravel off his rather ample gut and glaring to the rather smug-looking Roberts at second base.

The next pitch, however, was the sort of thing that could turn an inning around. Roberts was a quick player who had stolen sixteen bases in 1997, and he'd been eying third since he's come aboard. Perhaps he had thought he was facing Ki-tae Yi again, for testing Angel García's arm from home to third was conspicuously unwise. On the first pitch Roberts went, and García almost instantly had the ball in Greg Hubbard's glove: so quickly that Roberts had time to consider turning back. But the hesitation merely destroyed his chance at a lucky slide beneath Hubbard, and he was tagged out easily. The next two batters flew out easily, and Stewart was out of the inning with only an unearned run against him.

Both pitchers got through the next few innings without damage, but neither were exactly throwing darts. Pedneault came within an inch of a Bob Zasko two-run homer in the fourth, while in the bottom of the same inning Stewart had the bases loaded with one out before escaping with a fly out and a fielder's choice. It wasn't until the top of the ninth, with Rhett Martin pitching for Port Angeles, that another run came courtesy the bat of Greg Hubbard: a formidable solo home run to right field, his second long ball of the night and one that, if less impressively long than his first, restored a two-run lead for the Civics. A Xiang-ling Xun RBI single against Martin in the ninth accounted for the rest of the scoring as Melvin Stewart pitched through the eighth before giving way to Dusty Gill. Gill closed out the bottom of the ninth in style: striking out the Port Angeles designated hitter Curt Roberts on a slider to give Stewart a seven strikeout, five hit victory on 104 pitches.

Not bad for a guy who just didn't have it that night.

The win in Port Angeles was the beginning of a miniature winning streak that would take the Civics through the rest of the month. On the 28th, the Civics returned to Edmonton for the first time in nine days to face the Boise Idahoes. Adam Wallace was on the hill and had his worst start of the season: eight hits, three runs, and five strikeouts. Masamune Okawa and Dusty Gill held the fort in relief and the Civics were able to tee off on Idahoes reliever Donald Head to get the tying run in the seventh, and win it in the bottom of the tenth thanks to a Luis Reyes single driving home Pancho González for a 4-3 victory.

The next game against the Idahoes was just as dramatic. Roberto Espinoza cruised through seven innings: eleven strikeouts and no runs allowed. The normally reliable Dusty Gill faltered in the ninth with a 3-0 lead, though, as he allowed two hits and three walks in two-thirds of an inning to let the Idahoes tie the game in the top of the ninth. With extra innings seemingly inevitable, Xiang-ling Xun came up in the bottom of the ninth with two out and two on and nailed a long home run towards the North Saskatchewan River, once again sending the fans home happy in a 6-3 victory. Finally, with William LaFontaine getting his first start of the season, the Civics blew a 4-0 lead courtesy two-thirds of a rotten inning by Felix Vásquez and once again went to extra innings where, once again, a walk-off home run put the game away, with Pancho González doing the honours.

"Three games all going down to the last batter," Frankie Truro had observed with his usual detatched tones as the Civics congregated at home plate and the fans roared after González's homer. "Three games going into the win column for the Edmonton Civics, who run their record to 11-6 and put themselves in position to challenge the Billings Barnstormers for the division." Truro paused to take a sip of water, letting his listeners enjoy the celebratory sounds coming from the field. "The Civics move to Eugene tomorrow to face the Cranes, and Bill Williams will make his Civics debut. As always, we'll have the first pitch for you at eight P.M. Mountain Standard Time..."

As Frankie Truro went into his standard speech at the end of a baseball game and as the Civics filed into the locker room, they could hardly even guess what a bizarre month was coming up for them.

Coming up: Chapter Nine: Chutes and Ladders