Neo-Major League Baseball: Hope Station Giants

[cochrane]

I'm prefacing this with a warning; this dynasty isn't long, but it takes place in an already established science-fiction universe known as Hope Station. This aspect of the story is alluded to in two of the novels, but it's never really explored. The structure of the Neo-Major Leagues is outlined in a related article located at the Hope Station Encyclopedia, which is where the prologue comes from.

The character names were inputted into OOTP6, and the league was created as fictional (obviously). What I'm doing is similiar to how Tib is using ITP for his Short Hop novel; using the outcomes of the games as a guideline for the character and millieu story I'm writing here.

I intend to update as often as possible, but at least one chapter a week unless otherwise stated. Please feel free to leave comments or suggestions, but the OOTP output is basically as written, with some character development to give it color. I did not want to write another statistical post.

Thanks!

-- ZC

[cochrane]

The Giants of Hope Station
By cochrane

Prologue

[excerpted from Hindsight by A. M. Tarn, Ph.D, et al., 2157.]

The so-called modern era of baseball has it’s origins in the original major leagues in the late nineteenth century. The game itself can be traced back to the middle of the eighteenth century, as a variation on the British sports of cricket and rounders. Due to the widespread popularity of the sport, baseball’s point of creation cannot be determined, and throughout history, has been a point of dispute between historians, both amateur and professional.

Baseball’s beginning paces itself with the history of the old United States of America, which quickly adopted the sport as its national pastime. Though organized leagues of baseball teams can be traced as far back as the early-to-mid eighteenth century, it would not be until the late nineteenth century that the American Association (what would later become the American League) and the National League would begin what is now known as the beginning of the classic era of baseball.

From the beginning of the game, due to the financial constrains of owners and equipment, it was necessary to retain a baseball for use during an entire game. The cost of replacing baseballs was deemed too high by club owners, and thereby causing the game to be played without home runs being scored very often. To that end, players would dominate the game using inside-park techniques, such as singles, bunting, and hit-and-runs. Balls hit foul into the crowd or out of the park had to be retrieved by the players or grounds crew, and often enough, baseballs lasting to the end of the game would not be recognizable. It was the era of such baseball legends like Pittsburgh Pirates’ shortstop Honus Wagner, New York

Baseball would suffer its first major scandal with the banning of eight Chicago White Sox players on the charge of throwing the 1919 World Series. Included amongst the eight was White Sox outfielder “Shoeless” Joe Jackson; a fan favorite. The appointment of a baseball commissioner followed soon after all eight players were acquitted by a court of law. Former Illinois

The commissioner’s office would prove to be a powerful position within major league baseball for nearly two centuries, and the changes executed from that office would prove to be just as extreme in reaction from fans of the sport. Such changes included the decision of awarding home field advantage to the winning league of the All-Star Game. The All-Star Game, also known as “the midsummer classic,” was a game played by the stars of each league. Each player is voted for by the fans, and the top two or three players per position would be appointed to either the American or National League teams. When the Global League was formed in 2042, the All-Star Game was broken up into two games with a bye; allowing the winner of the previous year to be challenged in the second game by the winner of the first game.

From a sociological standpoint, the United States had a love-hate relationship with its national pastime. The Golden Age of Baseball, so decreed by historians and fans alike, began in the late 1940s until the late 1960s, after the Major League Baseball Players’ Association (MLBPA) was formed to protect the interests of the players versus the interests of the club owners. Prior to the creation of the MLBPA, club owners held vast power and authority over players and their careers; players would often sign contracts with a reserve clause that detailed they must re-sign with the same team for a period of years following the expiration of the agreement. Prior to these major changes, players would often be signed to a team for the long haul; under the new rules, players could be treated like journeymen. Gone was the player loyalty to the club, replaced by the greed for material gain and worth. During the Golden Age, players would remain with a club for more than a decade. Disenchanted fans found it difficult to maintain allegiance to their favorite teams when the inconsistency of team rosters became prominent from season to season. Popular players were subject to trades they could not contractually veto without tenure, or released outright into free agency and used legal representation to lobby for them with other baseball teams.

Further, if so determined by the MLBPA, whole seasons could come to a halt due to a work stoppage in the form of strikes and walkouts. In 1994, the season was cut short by a walkout due to contract disputes with club owners. This dispute would not be settled until late into the 1995 season. The monetary disputes presented an ugly side to baseball players once relegated to the status reserved for heroes and legends. The disparity in income between fans and players only served to dissolve any sympathy for players from those fans. A majority of the fan base became alienated soon after the players walked out, and for the first time since the beginning of the Second World War, baseball was in real danger of becoming extinct at the end of 1997.

As if to answer the prayers of club owners, in 1998, Saint Louis Cardinals’ first baseman Mark McGwire began a dramatic chase of the single-season home run record, set by New York Yankees’ right fielder Roger Maris with sixty-one home runs. The single-season home run record is one of the many aspects of baseball that continued to enthrall its fans. Though players prior had set and reset the record, the most famous player to do so was George Herman “Babe” Ruth with sixty home runs in 1927. Mark McGwire would obliterate Maris’ record that season with seventy home runs, and fans who had previously lost interest, began to remember the nature of the game and watched each day McGwire chased history. The new record would stand for a short three seasons, when San Francisco Giants’ left fielder Barry Bonds raised the bar to seventy-three in 2001. The record set by Bonds would be broken in 2076 by Santa Clara Athletics’ first baseman Wendell Grant with eighty-one.
At the turn of the millennium, baseball underwent significant changes. The most significant change to baseball’s foundation was signing of the first woman player with the San Francisco Giants in 2018 (Pitcher Patricia Washington). The creation of a five-year professional women’s baseball project in 2014 succeeded in the major leagues taking notice of talented women players. A major rules change, although historians argue it to be a correction, occurred within the American League as it abolished the designated hitter in 2031.

The addition of female players to the game redefined gender relations as the addition of African-American players to the major leagues helped to redefine ethnic differences on Earth. Though originally considered to be a publicity stunt in 2018, pitcher Patricia Washington proved to be a valuable asset to San FranciscoWashington’s entry into baseball blazed a trail for many young women. The transition of collegiate softball pitchers proved that women could compete alongside their male counterparts following ’s success in the majors. In the decades following that initial foray, women began to prove their offensive prowess as well. Wendell Grant’s single-season home run record would fall to Chelsea Nystrom of the Hawai’i Breakers in 2111 with an astounding ninety home runs. She would go on to challenge the lifetime home run records of Babe Ruth, Hank Aaron, and even Barry Bonds, but the destruction of Earth in 2122 would prevent that from happening. She would die with six hundred sixty-seven career home runs.

The popularity of the sport worldwide brought about the creation of a major league-sponsored Baseball World Cup in 2010, and the United States’ national team experienced defeat in the international Olympics. Japan, Puerto Rico, and the Dominican Republic proved their dominance whilst competing in the World Cup tournament. Major League Baseball realized the potential in having international franchises, and shortly after the third World Cup match, accepted franchises in 2022 with the cities of Tokyo (when the already established franchise of the Tampa Bay Devil Rays sought a new venue in which to play), Havana (Diablos), Mexico City (Aztecs), and London (Kings) being represented within the major leagues. It was only twenty years later that the creation of the Global League (GL) was required in order to contain the new franchises being awarded to cities outside the United States. The contention of the international teams was immediately apparent in 2039; the Nagoya Dragons defeated the Santa Clara Athletics in the World Series, four games to two. At its height, major league baseball boasted sixty-eight teams, in three leagues and four divisions each. The playoff tournament forced players to play into November, and the scope of the game changed dramatically with the extended season from 162 to 184 games.

When humankind began to develop colonies in the solar system, baseball traveled with them. Teams on the moon as well as Mars began signing cooperative agreements with major league baseball franchises. The first baseball league organized outside of Earth showcased eight teams on Mars within the three segments of the JerichoHavana club. During the Stellar War (2099-2122), baseball flourished in a war economy.

At the end of the Stellar War, the destruction of Earth brought about the end of the original Major Leagues, with over ninety percent of the teams destroyed along with it. In 2126, however, under the leadership of President Carter Nunez, the Confederate Council passed the National Pastime Restoration Act, providing public funding of a new major league system with four teams and a short schedule in 2128. Three of the teams (Gerrold, , and the Lick Segment) would be hosted on Mars, while the Prometheus asteroid colony would host the fourth. The first game of the current era was played between the Gerrold Pioneers and the Fontana Suns, on April 2. In 2130, four more teams (Hope Stations, Kelso Colony, Pacifica, and Callisto) were added to the league; though it would be by public interest that the Kelso Colony team would be founded; a lack of private money forced a bond vote that allowed the colony to own the team.

The addition of Hope Station brought back the old-style of baseball; the station’s earth-like simulation on under its primary residential dome provided a computer-controlled day and night. Playing three or four game series at the Giants’ ballpark allowed players and fans alike to experience what baseball might have been like during the classic era of the major leagues. It was to the Giants advantage, as fans, young and old, would make pilgrimages to the stadium. The 2130 season would bring the Giants’ organization record income levels for the new major leagues.

The Solar Series of 2133 would be the last one in which Hope Station would participate; the Civil War would prevent players from reaching Hope Station. In 2134, the fall of Kelso Colony to Republican forces would cause another team to forfeit the season. By 2135, the new major leagues would return down to the original four teams before the fall of Jericho in 2136 would prevent a season that year.

During its isolation, however, Hope Station used its ballpark to host its own version of a baseball tournament. As the station hosted millions of residents, small teams had sprung up and played games in parks constructed for that purpose. The Hope Station tournament would continue the tradition of baseball, and evolve into another attempt at creating a professional baseball circuit. At the time of publishing this record, the Giants continue to play baseball at the Maximillian Andrews Memorial Park. They reigned over the league as perpetual champions, seven years running.

[seth70liz76]

Originally Posted by cochrane

I'm prefacing this with a warning; this dynasty isn't long

You have quality writing so far, that more than makes up for any length issues. I've said it before, and I'll say it again--I love to see the different ways people of the forum use the game.

[ifspuds]

Cool stuff, Cochrane. Nice to see a sci-fi dynasty starting up!

[cochrane]

Thanks for reading. I hope you like the first chapter.

-- ZC

[Rossi]

i love it, more please and soon

[cochrane]

Chapter One

Hope Station II
Maximillian Andrews Memorial Park
April 2, 2130


It was perfect weather for a ballgame, she thought to herself.

The pitching machine fired off a fastball pitch toward her, and she swung the bat. Making solid contact, she knew before the ball left the bat that it would be sent high and deep into left field.

“Ball’s flying well,” said the Hope Station Giants’ batting coach from outside the batting cage constructed over the stadium’s home plate. The baseball that the team’s manager hit landed in the left field stands and bounced amongst the seats. He watched as a fan picked up the ball and returned to her seat with her new prize.

The manager smiled at him as she adjusted her grip on the bat and took a few more practice swings before returning to the batter’s box. The pitching machine on the mound signaled that another ball was loaded and ready to be thrown. She used her whole body to swing the bat, launching another ball into the outfield stands of the stadium. Stepping out of the box, she turned around at looked at the coach again. “It’s batting practice, Murph,” she replied. It was an indulgence she only allowed herself after the team finished with their practice before the game.

Edgar Murphy, the team’s batting coach, grinned at her. Since the start of spring training, he also indulged by taking batting practice with the manager while the team’s players showered in the locker room and dressed for the game. He had already swung the bat a few times, feeling his age as his right arm tightened afterwards. His left arm was a replacement cybernetic limb from his service during the war, and because of his ‘enhancement,’ prevented him from returning as a player.

She swung the bat for the last time, sending the ball into foul territory. The batting cage would be put back into storage until tomorrow. Surrendering her bat to the youngster wearing her team’s uniform and the words ‘bat boy’ on the back, she watched as he trotted off to deposit the bat back in her office. She removed her batting gloves and placed them within her jacket pocket after putting it back on.

The sights at Maximillian Andrews Memorial Park she had determined to be absolutely beautiful; reminiscent of what an earthbound ballpark would look like during the twenty-first century. Sportscasters and fans both referred to the stadium as simply ‘The Max.’ The park had been modeled to represent the older architecture while also providing for the more modern conveniences. Though there was an old-style restaurant and food court, seat delivery was available all over the ballpark by way of conveyances and delivery systems. Fans enjoyed the personal update screens available behind each seat, as well as keeping score along with the events of the game on their scribers.

The dimensions at the Max were pretty standard; five-fifteen to center field, and four-ninety-five to the lines. There was an alley in left center that extended out to five-twenty-two that her centerfielder often cursed during difficult plays, but she didn’t mind. As batters proved to be more and more powerful over the years, the fences got pushed back appropriately to keep the game competitive.

Walking down the tunnel into the team’s locker room, she felt at home among the players. This was home. Sure, she had a residence elsewhere on the station, but her time was not divided equally. As a player, she remembered the buildup and anticipation of a new season, and now as a manager, she felt the desire to play stronger than before. She was not an old woman; she could probably convince the general manager to activate her and place her on the roster. She would not be the first player-manager in the league; the Lick Segment Navigators had been run by a player-manager for the past two seasons. Every time she swung the bat at the plate, the same idea crept into her mind. By the time she entered her office, it departed as casually as it had arrived once she realized the nature of managerial responsibilities. No, she was forced into retirement by the war, and this was her place, now.

She walked by the door to her office, and noted with pride that they managed to spell her last name right this time. “Tessa Bonneventure,” it read. Before, they had spelled her last name with an a, instead of an e. Not that it mattered to anyone else, but she felt that getting her name right was no minor detail. Thankfully, the facilities manager agreed and saw to it right after the game.

Removing her jacket and placing it upon the couch in her office, Tessa settled into the chair behind the desk and began to unbutton her batting practice jersey.

Unlike the formal game uniform, the batting practice uniform was primarily black, while the home uniform was cream-colored with black lettering and orange piping. The Hope Station Giants were patterned after the San Francisco Giants of the old major leagues. This meant they took on the same team colors and emblem, though instead of the orange S and F logo, the H and S were situated similarly upon a black baseball cap.

Today’s game against the Pride of Callisto was the second of a three-game series to open the new baseball season. Like the Giants, the Pride were a new expansion team and represented the ice mining metropolis located on one of the moons of Jupiter. They played all of their home games in the university’s stadium within the colony, but this season they would open with a road trip. During the Stellar War, the ball club that played for Callisto were known as the Icebreakers, and they were a co-op in the double-A Jupiter League. When a franchise opportunity was made available, the former Icebreaker owners jumped on board and announced the Pride of Callisto would begin playing ball and open tryouts were held.

Yesterday’s season and home opener was a heartbreaker for the Giants; the Pride managed to play small ball and held onto the lead in the top of the tenth inning and won it with a score of seven runs to six. The ace pitcher, Jimmy Petropoulos, took it pretty rough. Although Tessa felt the game was a showcase of talent that the new league had to offer, the local media were quick to criticize the performances of the players on the field.

Tessa was annoyed when she watched the nightly sports reports, and knew that Jimmy would need consoling before the game started. Thankfully, her pitching coach would spend time with him today.

After changing into the home uniform, Tessa grabbed her jacket and made her move toward the door. The locker room had already emptied except for custodial staff. The enthusiasm for the game was apparent in the way her players conducted themselves. They were hungry to win, and she saw that they played with heart. She felt good about the season, already.

---

“And now, the starting line up for your Hope Station Giants,” said the park announcer over the public address system around the stadium after having read the Pride of Callisto’s lineup.

“Leading off, number nineteen, third baseman, Bernadette Himuro!” Tessa could not help from giving a soft chuckle at the image on the screen when eighteen year-old Bernie Himuro’s impish grin flashed on the screen. They had cut off the end of the record before it played out on the screens; the part when Himuro stuck out her tongue at the camera. She was one of the five rookies on the team. Speed was the name of the third baseman’s game; Bernie was the quickest infielder Tessa had seen in a long time. When coupled with Himuro’s bunting skills, she proved a serious threat to beat out the throw. She proved that yesterday by going four for five and stealing four bags. Defensively, Tessa believed that Bernie would eventually win the golden glove, but not this year.

“Batting second, number one, centerfielder, Kin-Wah Johannsen!” Kay-Jay is what the team called him, for no reason other than it sounded like a good nickname. Kenny was what he went by, they would find out later, but the Kay-Jay moniker stuck like glue. Fans picked up on it and so did the public relations team. As a player, Tessa found him to be a good contact hitter; someone you’d want to move Bernie up when she got on base. So far, he did just that, though it was the first game of the season. He was a tall man, and his strides made the outfield small enough for him to move around.

“Batting third, number twenty-two, first baseman, Les D’Agostino!” One of the two veterans on the team, Les and Tessa often shared stories about games and old times. She couldn’t help but like him, but his years were growing short. He still had offensive power, but there was a reason the guy was assigned to first base, and though she never said anything about it, he understood the move. Tessa hoped he would retire this year to go out with some dignity, but she also knew he had a wife and five children to provide for. The fact that he needed three more seasons to make a decent pension forced him to keep on playing.

“Batting cleanup and catching, number nine, Mariposa Quintara!” Mariposa was something of an enigma. She kept to herself when not on the field, barely spoke unless spoken to. She handled the pitchers masterfully, and was showing signs of becoming the defensive captain. Tessa respected Mariposa’s style, and did not know if the woman even knew how good she was. On top of being effective as a catcher, no one could match the power of her bat. During spring training, she regularly parked the ball in every game she started in. In yesterday’s game, however, she went oh-for-three, but they intentionally walked her twice because they were afraid of her potential to do damage with runners in scoring position.

“In fifth, number thirty-five, shortshop Jacob Nystrom!” The son of the famous shortshop that played for Hawai’i during the war, Jake was every bit his mother in many respects. Tessa played against Chelsea Nystrom for a couple of seasons, and even in her final years, Chelsea was a living legend in the sport. Jake had yet to prove himself, however, he exhibited a lot of the same qualities. His youth shone through most of the time, and as a playful nineteen year old, he quickly became the practical joker. The median age of the team hovered in the low twenties, with Jake and Bernie the youngest of the club. As a middle defender, Jake was not as solid as his mother was, but with a little time and tutelage, there was every chance he could best Chelsea. Unlike his mother, however, he could send the ball out of the park with some regularity; he hit two dingers over five hundred feet yesterday.

“Batting sixth and in right field, number five, Mathilda Guerrero!” The other vet on the team, Mathilda and Tessa played together for two seasons with the Gerrold Pioneers before Mathilda got traded to the Prometheus team. Tessa and Mathilda kept tabs on each other after the war decimated the sport, and when Tessa was announced as the new manager, Mathilda could not help but look up her old teammate and ask for an invitation to spring training. Luckily for the both of them, Mathilda had not lost her edge as a player, and though she might not have kept her powerful bat, her defense could not be denied.

“At second base and batting seventh, number eleven, Macintyre Jabert!” Tessa took a chance when she selected Mac as her choice for second base. Mac had no redeeming qualities above being a solid middle infielder. As far as second basemen go, Tessa needed someone to work with Jake at short. Tessa did not need Mac to be a slugger, since she had Mariposa and Jake. Only time would tell on Tessa’s gamble.

“Batting eighth and in left field, number twenty-eight, Patrick Fortenberry!” He was the good luck charm of the club, due to his klutz-like nature in the locker room. Patrick had the grace of a circus clown while moving around in the locker room. The other players in the clubhouse tended to give the boy a wide berth when they shared it with him. On the field, however, it was as though when he put on the glove, it endowed him with grace and skill. He handled line drives easily, and climbed fences to grab at balls that threatened to clear the fence. At the plate, though, he was not making contact like he should.

“Batting ninth and your starting pitcher for today, number forty-five, Kimiko Inoue!” The number two starter in Tessa’s four-man rotation was a young pitcher who threw like her life depended on it. The pitching coach brought Kimiko to Tessa’s attention at training, and after a few simulated starts, it looked like she showed enough stamina to go the distance in spite of her age. Today was the pitcher’s first outing, so Tessa hoped Kimiko performed as well as she had. She was the shortest pitcher on staff, by far, at a small five-foot-one, but her size fooled most batters into a sense of security. Tessa found her to be one of the most intimidating pitchers in the game today, and knew that Kimiko would go on to contend for a Cy Young Award; maybe this year, definitely next year.

“And managing the Hope Station Giants, number forty-four, Tessa Bonneventure!” As her name was called, she walked out of the dugout and doffed her cap as the team’s public relations executives wanted her to. She hated the fact that it took attention away from her players, but anything to put people in the stands. She knew that the decision to hire her was in some way an attempt to curry favor with older fans. Most of those older fans had families and often enough, they would bring their families to the park to watch Tessa manage a ball club. Hopefully, those youngsters would become fans and a whole new generation of income would be set up for the franchise. But, if it gave her an opportunity to be around the game, she would take it.

The public address system called for applause as the defense took the field. She watched Kimiko throw a few more warm-up pitches to Mariposa before the Pride leadoff hitter approached the plate. Tessa perched on her stool she brought in, placed by the mesh fence protecting the dugout and watched the game start. In the dugout, her batting and pitching coaches made use of the displays and sensor equipment available to them, and if she were so inclined, she could sit inside the dugout and do the same. However, when she tried to manage using the technology, she believed herself to be too disconnected from the pulse of the game, having to rely on fatigue warnings, defensive projections, and other computer-generated outputs. No, she wanted to smell the grass, the dirt, and watch her players play the game.

Tessa did, however, use the radio system during defense. Every player on the field had a small communications device in their ear, with the exception of the pitcher; Kimiko preferred to pitch using the old signs from the catcher, and Mariposa was happy to oblige her. She had said that it ruined her concentration to listen to the chatter over the radio.

Kimiko Inoue kept her dirty blonde hair short, as most women players in the league did. Long hair simply was not conducive to playing baseball, in certain situations, especially on Hope Station. If the simulated wind blew a strand into your face at a critical moment, the play could be blown and the game could be lost. No one wanted to be the root cause of a loss, if they could help it. Kimiko’s hair was not too short, though she cared less about being attractive than about winning games, it was kept in a bobbed fashion.

Mariposa gave her a sign, and Kimiko went into her wind-up by twisting her body back to the left and lifting her right leg up before throwing the ball in a submariner style. As soon as the pitch left her hand, Tessa knew it would be straight heat. When the pitch slapped into Mariposa’s mitt loudly and the umpire called strike one, Tessa’s head snapped around to read the speed display in the dugout. It read 168kmh (105mph). Tessa blinked for a brief moment before hearing the crowd’s reaction to the pitch’s speed.

The Pride hitter’s look of astonishment was brief, but visible. Quickly, he returned to his stance, ready to time the next pitch in an attempt to make contact. He narrowed his eyes and stared at Kimiko with all the ferocity he could muster.

Kimiko came set, lifted her leg again, and fired off her second pitch of the game. The Pride hitter smirked and swung, keeping his arc down to try and hit the ball on the ground. He swung through and the umpire called strike two.

The display read: 172kmh (107mph). She could hear the pitching coach behind her failed to keep a laugh stymied.

Tessa tried to keep her expression as calm as possible and failed as a smile appeared on her face.

The hitter was visibly angry, now. Tessa knew him to be a more experienced hitter, but he had never faced Kimiko before. This was a brand new team, with more than half of its players coming in off the street and trying out. Very little game data had been produced, but Tessa knew that if Kimiko kept throwing like this, there would be scouts following the Giants everywhere to get a look at her.

On the third pitch, Kimiko’s hand moved slightly in a twisting direction. The ball moved significantly slower and danced around in the air before landing down and in.

The Pride hitter was frozen in place.

The umpire screamed, “Strike three!” He gestured in the bow-and-arrow fashion to signal the out, and the crowd went wild.

Tessa beamed. She looked over at the pitching coach and smiled at her. She remarked, “Perfect weather for a ballgame, isn’t it?”

---

Inoue gave up a triple, but held him there as she forced the next two batters to ground out. The bottom of the first brought up the Giants’ leadoff hitter, Bernie Himuro. Bernie was set to bunt from before she left the dugout. She knew her job was to get herself on base and ready to steal second. Within sixty seconds of the first pitch, Bernie stood atop second and readied herself to steal her fifth base of the year.

The Pride pitcher, Cecil Collins threw a quick sinker in to Kay-Jay as Bernie took off for second. The catcher, Lee Giguere, fired a rifle shot to the shortstop, Billy Claypool, and although Bernie’s speed was impressive, she was a foot shy of beating the throw and tried not to look disappointed as she trotted back to the dugout.

Tessa patted her on the shoulder as she showed a little emotion and tossed her helmet into her slot and grabbed her fielding ballcap. Murph chatted with her and calmed her down, but Tessa’s attention returned to Johannsen’s at-bat.

When Kay-Jay flied out and Les grounded to Collins, the team ran back to their field positions while Kimiko warmed up with a few pitches between innings. Tessa reached into her jacket and pulled the small display device with her lineup. Before Claypool was finished in the on-deck circle, she decided to try something new when it came time to face Callisto again. The opening series with the Pride was only two games, and Tessa considered them to be nothing more than an extension of spring training.

Immediately after the game, they would hop aboard the team shuttle and speed to Pacifica. They would have to sleep on the shuttle, because they would arrive just in time for batting practice. Thankfully, the shuttle had individual accommodations to house up to fifty people and at times it was as comfortable as her own bedroom on the space station.

After Claypool flied out, Harold Thomas, the left fielder for the Pride of Callisto, stepped into the box and stared at Inoue. Thomas was a large man, over six a half feet tall and rather muscular. The scouting reports said he might take over the cleanup position from their third baseman, Salazar, if he did not perform as they expected. Inoue released another high speed fastball toward the plate, and the crack of the bat sounded off like a rifle shot. Five hundred twenty feet into the center field bleachers and all of the Giants watched it fly. Thomas trotted around the bases as the fans booed him for ruining the score by putting the Pride on the board, one run to nothing.

The Giants’ pitching coach was a tall woman by the name of Patricia Washington. She held no relation to the famous pitcher from the early twentieth century, but she was named for her by her father. As a result, she was a professional starter and later a hell of a closer for the late, great Baltimore Orioles of the old Major Leagues. Patty hesitated, looking at Tessa for permission to head out and handle Kimiko after being dealt a blow.

Tessa looked back at Patty and shook her head. “Let her work it through with Mariposa.”

Kimiko came set after Thomas touched home and the Pride second baseman, Kilby, readied himself in the box. As she had in the first inning, she tossed three pitches: a slider, a curve, and then one of the nastiest knucklers Tessa had ever seen.

ilby tried to connect with the knuckleball as it danced low and away. The bat came around and almost landed in the dirt with the force of his swing, but the ball landed with a quiet slap in Quintara’s glove. The ump pulled out his bow-and-arrow motion and called Kilby out.

Though she walked the catcher, she struck out her counterpart with another three pitches to end the inning. When Kimiko entered the dugout and put on a jacket to keep her arm warm, Tessa walked over to her and smiled. “Nice recovery.”

"We’re still a run down,” replied Inoue disheartenedly.

"The way you’re pitching, I’m sure you’ll hold them to that one lucky swing.”

---

True to Tessa’s words, Kimiko held them to that run, but Collins matched Kimiko’s prowess on the mound until the middle of the eighth. The Pride bullpen and their closer, Jessica Percival, made sure that they won by one run again for the sweep of the two-game series.

After the game, the team held their meeting on the shuttle owned by the Giants, known as the Frozen Rope. Within the shuttle’s main deck, there was an assembly area with couches and a large display panel. It was the first time during the regular season that they would meet aboard the shuttle, and the occasion was marked with a small commissioning ceremony complete with drinks and food that the club’s staff provided.

They were on their way to play the Pacifica Cubs. Pacifica was the capital city of the moon of Ganymede. Like Callisto, Ganymede orbited Jupiter and also had clubs in the old Jupiter league. The number of cities and towns littering the Ganymede landscape totaled a population of just over one hundred million citizens.

Tessa looked forward to visiting Pacifica, because the manager of the Cubs was a very old friend of hers. In their time together as teammates playing for the triple-A affiliate of the Santa Clara Athletics, the Sacramento River Cats, Tessa Bonneventure and Veronica Del Toro were the media darlings of the Pacific Coast League. While Tessa played at short, Veronica played second base, and together they turned defensive plays that the beat writers would call “feats of defensive magic.” When the Athletics traded Tessa after that season to the Lunaport Rockhounds, the A’s promoted Veronica to play for them in Santa Clara. In 2117, the Rockhounds and the A’s met in the System Series. That was the last time they saw each other before the end of the major leagues.

Though she was looking forward to the series for personal reasons, her club came out of the first two games feeling less than whole. As they settled in with their food on their plates, Tessa strode before the crowd, and in her soft-spoken alto, she asked the dreaded question, “How is everyone feeling?”

The response she received was less than pleasant. She smiled. “I won’t regale you all with another uplifting story from the old major leagues, but I will say that you improved upon yourselves one hundred percent from game one. The defense came together, Kimiko’s pitching was near-perfect, and now all we need to do is add run production.”

Jake Nystrom tossed out, “Easier said than done. No one here could figure out Collins.”

“That’s pretty bold coming from the only person here who has a couple of longballs next to his name,” replied Bernadette Himuro.

“I also have goose eggs on tonight’s line, Bernie,” said Jake. “I say we watch some records of Collins delivery, we can get a bead on how to beat him and the Pride.”

“Good suggestion, Jake,” admitted Tessa. “However, after everyone is finished eating, you’re all to be in bed no later than midnight. Study tape, but I suggest you relax. We don’t face Collins and the Pride for a couple of weeks. Plenty of time to study later, but if you do decide to study, why don’t you get to work on solving the problem of a pitcher by the name of Luis Sheridan.”

---

Mariposa Quintara sat at the computer terminal in her assigned stateroom, watching records of the Cubs hitters and pitchers. The Cubs used a five man rotation, like the rest of the Neo-Majors. The Giants were the only club that employed a four-man pitching rotation, with Jimmy, Kimiko, Casey Lagrange, and Kelly Ewan. According to the Skipper, Pierre Aponte was the spot starter, if the rotation gets tired and needs a day off. With the exception of Jimmy, the other three starters were pretty younger and could bounce back from three days rest. Kimiko was a workhorse, and pitched complete simulated games several times during spring training. She had the most strikeouts in simulation, and Mariposa knew it was a matter of time before she would start baffling batters.

As if on cue, Kimiko arrived at Mariposa’s door, with her proverbial hat in her hand. “May I come in?”

Mariposa nodded and gestured for the number two starter to enter. After both of them made themselves comfortable, Quintara waited for the pitcher to say something.

“I shouldn’t have let Thomas hit off me.”

“Well,” said Mariposa, “he did.”

Kimiko replied angrily, “I was there.”

“So was I, and you know how he did it?” asked Mariposa.

“No.”

“He watched you throw nothing but heat for the first part of the inning, and he nailed your timing. Thomas is a vet; he’s thirty-one and he’s played semi-pro ball on Callisto since the end of the war,” explained the catcher. “If there was anyone on that team who was going to nail your fastball, it was him.”

“But you called for the fastball!” Inoue nearly shouted.

“Yeah,” Mariposa nodded. “You’ve been driving yourself really hard these past few months, especially with the fastball. I think it’s safe to say you’ve been building up the heat in your mind as your signature pitch.”

Kimiko opened her mouth to respond, but she closed it and nodded.

“Someone, somewhere, somehow was going to figure that out, and they were going to be ready for it,” continued Mariposa. “I’d rather you learn that now, at the beginning of the season, than when we’re fighting for a playoff berth. Jesus Christ, Kimiko, you’re a pitcher with seven pitches at your command. Fastball, changeup, curveball, knuckler, slider, cutter, and you’re picking up the splitter pretty damn quick. You’re going to be the Cy Young candidate of our rotation this year and every year if you keep it up.”

Inoue blushed under the barrage of compliments from Quintara.

“Later in the game, did you see how your knuckler and changeup were keeping them off balance? I was calling for some pretty bizarre combinations toward the later innings, and you ended up finishing the game with thirteen Ks, in spite of the loss.”

Kimiko nodded and thought out loud. “I come back up in the rotation for the last game. Do you think by then we can go over their lineup and start strategizing a little better?”

Mariposa smiled. “Absolutely.”

[cochrane]

For reference, although one of them is my avatar, if that should change... I wanted to upload the Giants logos. These are for use with this story only, please

Thanks!

-- ZC

[cochrane]

Chapter Two

Pacifica, Ganymede
Municipal Stadium
April 6, 2130
Game Four of a Four-Game Series at Pacifica Cubs

“And if you’re just joining us for this amazing game here on the Stellar Sportsfeed, we are here in the bottom of the eighth inning, where Giants’ pitcher Kimiko Inoue is six outs away from the Neo-Majors’ first one-hitter in history. This is Dennis Keller alongside Cy Young winner Chuy Wilcox with you live from Pacifica’s Muni Stadium where the Giants are on top of the Cubs with a score of six runs to zero. Chuy, you’ve been in several of these situations, what do you think is going on inside Inoue’s head right now?”

“Well, Duane, it’s anyone’s guess, but mine is that she’s focused on winning the game. I doubt if she’s even aware of the fact that she has a one-hitter going right now. The only thing that matters is putting the ball in the catcher’s mitt until the end of the inning.”

---

Kimiko stared out at the Cubs’ second baseman, Kevin Trott. She had so far faced him twice before, and managed to strike him out both times. The second time was harder than the first, and she knew that the catcher, Mariposa Quintara, was keeping score as well as Kimiko was. Focusing her attention toward Mariposa’s crotch, she saw that the catcher called for some more high heat, low and down the middle. Kimiko fought the urge to shake out her arm and show fatigue to the opposition. If low heat is what Mariposa wanted, than low heat is what she’s going to get.
She came set and lifted her knee up as she prepared to throw. Her left arm released the ball as hard as she could, and surprisingly, Trott made contact with the ball. It was a late swing, and he fouled it off down the left field line. For a brief moment, Mariposa and Kimiko shared a look as they communicated the next move silently. Trott would nail the next pitch if it was a fastball, now it was time to mix it up and get this guy out.

Quintara signaled for a sinker, inside and obvious. It was their way of shortening the pitch count without going for the K. Pitching Trott inside had the desired effect; the ball sprang from his bat and sailed up and toward the left foul line, toward Patrick Fortenberry. Patrick drifted into foul territory and made the catch. One away.

In spite of the home team five outs away from being shut out, the crowd began to cheer for the one-hitter as though the Giants hailed from Pacifica. Out of the corner of her eye, before the next Cubs hitter stepped into the box, Tessa came out of the dugout with her jacket on and trotted up to the mound. Mariposa did the same, coming up from the batter’s box and the umpire.

“It’s been quite a game to see, Kimiko,” said Tessa. She looked at Mariposa and asked, “I hate to pull her, but do you think she’s got it in her to close out the game?”

Kimiko’s brow carried a light sheen of sweat, which she wiped away with the arm of her uniform. She was in the bottom of the eighth in the fourth game of the series. They dropped the first one to the Cubs, when Casey Lagrange couldn’t hold onto a two-run lead in the sixth, giving up three hits and two runs. Tessa pulled him early and he got a no decision. The second and third games were won by starters Kelly Ewan and Jimmy Petropoulos, with some help from the magic arms from the bullpen. After three days of watching pitching and batting records of the games, with her sitting in the dugout and constructing her plans for the first three games, Kimiko started the fourth game with devastating pitching.

Mariposa looked at Kimiko, as if to appraise her on the spot. “I think she’s got five more outs left, Skipper.”

Kimiko nodded.

Tessa smiled. “Yeah, I think so, too. In either case, Kimiko, in case you get tired… I can have Q-Ball ready to close it out.” Q-Ball was their closing pitcher, Quentin Longshore.

Kimiko shook her head, feeling her pride surge up, but thought better. “I can finish it, but warm him up if you think that’s best.”

Mariposa and Tessa locked eyes for a brief moment, before the catcher turned and looked back at the umpire. The home plate ump was approaching the mound, getting ready to break up the meeting.

“Naw, that’s all right,” decided Tessa. “You close it out for us, K Monster.”

Both Mariposa and Kimiko asked at nearly the same time, “K Monster?”

“Too early in the season for a nickname?” wondered Tessa in a playful tone as she waved off the ump and went back to the dugout.

Mariposa chuckled, slapping her fist in her glove. “K Monster. I kind of like that.”

Kimiko wrinkled her nose at the prospect of being called something so ridiculous. Curiousity getting the better of her, she asked, “How many Ks do I have, anyway?”

Already waking away from the mound and fixing her mask, Mariposa turned and walked backwards as she raised her voice and answered, “I don’t know. I lost track after the twelfth one.”

Kimiko turned away from the catcher, tossing the ball into her glove twice and smiling to herself. Time to focus, she thought to herself. Carla Fabela, the Cubs’ first baseman, was next up, and she was batting over four hundred before the game started. Now it was close to three thirty-three. The players were now set and it was time to throw the ball. Splitter, low and away, was the signal from Mariposa.

---

“Swing and a miss to Fabela,” called Keller over the broadcast feed. “Carla Fabela is a veteran first baseman; she played in the old Majors as a young player with the Hawai’i Breakers as a teammate to the late Chelsea Nystrom during the final season. I understand before the first game, she and Jakey Nystrom, the Giants’ shortshop, had dinner to talk about his mother.”
Chuy Wilcox interjected, “Yes, Duane, that’s right. Obviously, these days, the older group of ballplayers have become a tighter clan, and children of that era are part of that new family. Even though they’re on opposing teams, they never forget where they come from, or what they represent. Although, this new class of major leaguers is impressive. No doubt about it.”

“Here’s the oh-one pitch to Fabela, looks like a knuckler in the dirt, and Fabela… Fabela offers a nasty hack at it!”

“Well, that was an incredibly filthy knuckleball, Duane. I think even Chelsea Nystrom would have tried to hit that one.”

“Oh and two to Fabela, now. You might be right about that, Chuy. And about these freshman ballplayers bringing their A-games to the new majors. Kimiko Inoue has proven to be worth twenty times her league minimum salary tonight,” comments Duane.

“That was part of the NPRA, Duane. If the government was going to fund major league baseball, everyone had to take a pay cut for the next five years to make sure everyone was paid equally,” replied Chuy. The NPRA was the National Pastime Restoration Act. “So far, the effect on morale has been amazing.”

“Inoue comes set, and here’s the oh-two pitch… swung on and missed! Strike three! Ooo… and Fabela does not look too happy with herself as she heads back to the dugout.”

“Inoue has perfected the art of the changeup, Duane. The effectiveness of the changeup lies in the ability to show fastball with your delivery and force the batter to swing early.”

Keller called, “And Inoue is now four outs away from a one-hitter! That last out brings up the number eight hitter, right fielder, Big Jim Sanches. Sanches is oh for two tonight, with a groundout in the third and he struck out looking in the sixth.”

“Big Jim has been hitless in his last three games,” added Chuy. “He’s batting with eighty-three cents on the year and if he doesn’t get a hit soon, there is no doubt that Cubs manager Ronnie Del Toro will send him back to Triple-A Brisbane and maybe call up Jenny Decosta, who’s been tearing up the minors the last six days.”

“Well, he’ll get another chance tonight to prove himself, Chuy. Inoue comes set and here’s the first pitch of the at-bat… Whoa! That heater went way inside and drops Sanches to the ground as he avoids the pitch!”

---

Mariposa quickly reached up to snare the ball in her glove and threw it back toward Kimiko as Sanches dusted himself off.
He cursed at Kimiko from his stance and stared angrily at the Giants pitcher.

Kimiko turned away, pretending not to notice. She did not like Mariposa playing games with the hitters like that, but the Cubs right fielder was crowding the plate, trying to force her to pitch outside.

“You tell that bitch pitcher of yours to watch where she’s throwing,” hissed Sanches.

“I would, but it’s late in the game, and I think she’s getting all light headed out there. I’ll bet she’s starting see two of you and is pitching in between. I’d be careful she doesn’t kill you with a one hundred seventy kay-em-aych fastball to the head. I don’t think your helmet’s that strong,” said Mariposa wryly.

Sanches turned to look at Mariposa incredulously. “Jesus.”

“The name’s Mariposa. Oh, and by the way, here comes your pitch.”

Sanches turned and looked Kimiko’s windup, the ball sailing toward him. He misjudged it and swung wildly, causing the umpire the duck out the way.

The umpire screamed, “Strike one! And watch it, batter!”

Sanches’ stance became very uncomfortable. He clearly did not know what to expect, now.

Mariposa smirked from underneath her mask and signaled for another fastball outside and wide. She stole a quick glance toward the dugout and saw that Tessa was trying very hard not to laugh, biting her lower lip. The next pitch went wide, as requested, and frighteningly, Sanches hacked at it futilely. She dove for the ball and missed, hearing it whack against the backstop so hard she thought she heard the wood crack. Dusting herself off, she called for time and the umpire gave it to her gladly.

“Wrangle your pitcher,” ordered the umpire.

She reached out with her glove and he gave her another ball to take to her. Walking up to Kimiko, she noticed that the pitcher was frowning. “Why are we playing games with this guy?”

“Because he’s up there with something to prove and acting like a jackass,” explained Mariposa with her mask atop her head.

“I’d like to stop messing around and just go after him.”

“Go right ahead. He already needs a change of underwear.”

“Okay, but no more of this. I don’t like it.”

Quintara, with her blood rushing in the excitement of the moment, felt her pride flare up. “You throw what I tell you to throw. Got it?”

Kimiko nodded meekly. “I throw what you tell me to throw. Got it.”

With a huff, Mariposa turned on her heels and headed back to the box. She squatted and winced as she realized she may have derailed the game by snapping at the pitcher. Shaking it off, she sent Kimiko the signal and adjusted her position to catch the ball.

The delivery was off; Mariposa saw it immediately. The knuckleball danced all over the place, making the catch impossible. Outmatched and very uncomfortable being in the batter’s box, Sanches took another obscene swing and missed while Mariposa moved to her right to try to catch it. Thinking she bobbled it, she reached up with the ball and tagged Sanches out before he realized it was dropped.

“Strike three, yer out!”

As the defense strode off the field, Mariposa tossed the ball toward the mound and caught up to Kimiko. “Way to go, Kimiko,” she offered.

Kimiko did not answer. Instead, she put on her jacket and looked ahead as Bernie stepped out onto the on-deck circle and began taking practice cuts.

“Kimiko...” said Mariposa, trying to get her attention.

“I throw what you tell me to throw,” repeated Kimiko.

Tessa turned and noticed the rise in tension with her starter and catcher, but she did not do anything about it. They would have to work it out for themselves.

---

The celebration aboard the Frozen Rope was huge. It was a big victory, taking three of four from the Cubs. Kimiko nailed her first win, a big win with a one-hitter for the books. Her line was amazing: 9.0 IP, 1 H, 0 R, 0 ER, 16 K. She threw one hundred nine pitches. She did not last through the first thirty minutes of the impromptu party and retired for the night, but not before Tessa promoted her new nickname for Kimiko. With the sixteen strikeouts, she now led the Outer League with twenty-nine. The K Monster was born.
Jake was all smiles, going three for three with with two RBIs. There was drinking and carousing, and even Bernie Himuro appeared to gravitate toward him. They sang some songs and drunkenly began to wander around the large shuttlecraft until the party lost steam as fatigue set in after a long game. Even though they both went oh for five, Les D’Agostino and Macintyre Jabert both seemed in high spirits. It wasn’t about their lack of performance tonight, it was about coming together and proving that they could beat back the tide. After being oh and three on the season, they were now three and three, and those three wins made a tremendous difference. The press called it a win streak.

The streak needed to be preserved, now, as they sped toward the Kelso Colony to face the Comets in their domed park. Kelso Colony was a colony hallowed out of an asteroid and was self-contained and sustained. It was the largest asteroid-based colony in the solar system, and sat at the mouth of the Corridor; the man-made commercial spacelane between Jupiter and Jericho (Mars) within the asteroid belt. While the colony was impressive, the Comets were the Outer League’s first-place team, boasting a record of four and two. The Giants now shared second place with the Pride, while the Cubs fell to last place thanks to the Giants.

Mariposa did not appear to celebrate as much as the others. Tessa wandered over to her when the party level died down enough to make conversation audible without shouting.

“What’s up?”

“Nothing, Skip.”

“Let’s try that again,” said Tessa. “What’s up?”

Mariposa sighed and lied. “I’m just thinking about the rotation. It’s going to be Casey, Kelley, Jimmy, and then Kimiko, right?”

“Yeah, that’s right. You’ll need to sit with Casey and go over the hitters with him tomorrow. I’ll schedule some time with Patty Washington for you to do that.”

“Sounds good,” said Mariposa, forcing a smile.

“That takes care of that, so what’s really up?”

Taking a deep breath, Mariposa realized that she was not going to get away without admitting it. “I said something to Kimiko on the mound today that I’m not proud of.”

“Was this while you were scaring the crap out of poor Big Jim Sanches?”

“Yeah.”

“Ronnie told me that he’s going back down to Triple-A, by the way, thanks to you two. I take it that Kimiko didn’t like you calling for those types of pitches?”

Wincing at the news, Mariposa replied, “Yeah.”

“You told her to throw what you tell her to throw?”

Mariposa blinked at Tessa. “How did you know?”

“You’re not the first catcher to put her foot in her mouth, and it was pretty obvious when you sulked in the corner during the biggest party of the year… so far.”

The catcher sighed. “I should go apologize to her. I didn’t mean it.”

“She’s sleeping off having pitched nine innings in three hours. It’ll keep until tomorrow, Captain.”

Mariposa looked up at Tessa. “Captain?”

“I decided to make you the team captain after the game. You show some real leadership in the field. In spite of your… temper.”

“Skip, I’m no captain. I didn’t act like one tonight.”

“With the exception of one moment of hubris, Mariposa, yes, you did.”

“Listen…”

“No,” interrupted Tessa. “No, you listen for a moment. You have helped wrangle this pitching staff. Patty Washington has had nothing but kind things to say about how good an eye you’ve got for pitching. She wants to deputize you for the pitching staff, but I need your leadership on the field.” She explained, “When the question of platooning you with Joe Wiggins comes up, I can’t risk him being out there and making a mistake. We’re playing five hundred ball right now, and that number needs to climb. We need you.”

“Skip…”

“I need you, M.” Tessa replied sincerely.

Mariposa smiled. She said in a jovial tone, “You’re intent on giving everyone nicknames, aren’t you?”

“It’s a term of endearment,” replied Tessa. “You ever watch hockey?”

“Sure.”

“Captains usually wear a C on their uniform. I know in baseball that kind of thing gets forgotten at the professional level, but I’m reinstating it. Tomorrow’s game at Kelso Colony, you’re wearing a big black C on your arm, so everyone on that field knows you’re my guy,” she said, moving off from Mariposa. “You’re going to do fine.”

“Okay, Skip. Thanks.”

“Oh, and apologize to the K Monster. She’s going to be pitching against Callisto on the eleventh.”

“Okay, Skip.”

“Good night, M.”

“Good night, Skip.”

[cochrane]

Working on getting more of the team logos on here for you guys. I have the Pride of Callisto almost ready to go, and the Pacifica Cubs. After the third chapter, I'll be posting some history on the league, especially about the teams you won't be seeing, like the Gerrold Pioneers, and the Fontana Suns. The Neo-Majors have no interleague play, yet.

-- ZC

[cochrane]

Here are the logos for the Pride of Callisto.

-- ZC

[cochrane]

And now for the Pacifica Cubs. Sorry these logos aren't more interesting, but I'm not a graphic design artist, just a guy who knows Paint Shop Pro pretty well.

-- ZC