Arby's Pain (standard:drama, 3605 words)
Author: TJC	Added: Jul 18 2004	Views/Reads: 3537/2486	Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
This is a story about a young man facing the changes in his life, as well as the coming of adulthood. He funnels his frustrations into a stellar perfomrance on the baseball field.

Click here to read the first 75 lines of the story



It was more than Arby's interest in literature and his reticence that
put a distance between him and Spider, it was also due to his belief 
that his friend was becoming an ass.  He had taken to hanging out with 
guys, both on the team and off, that went up to Rocky Peak Lookout 
every weekend to drink and smoke dope.  For him, there was no joy in 
doing that and so, even though he may take an occasional date to a 
movie or party, for the most part he stayed home and worked on his 
writing. 

Baseball, however, remained a common bond between the two friends.  Even
as they began to have different views, interests, and friends, they 
still played ball regularly.  Arby and Spider would play catch, hit and 
field for each other, spend time at the batting cages, and generally 
play each and every day.  Living in the San Fernando Valley of southern 
California afforded them the luxury of being able to play all year 
round.   Often, he would imagine himself as the great Nolan Ryan while 
his friend would consider himself a younger version of the Milwaukee 
Brewers' slugging shortstop, Robin Yount.  Now, though, even that was 
coming to an end.  Today, a sunny Saturday afternoon,  was the last 
game of the season.  The team had not made the regional tournament  and 
so this would be it.  For Arby Oswell, who was scheduled to pitch, it 
was the end.  He figured he would play softball someday, but not real 
baseball on a real team.  It was his last day as a baseball pitcher and 
the last day he would ever be teammates with Spider Albrecht, who was 
likely to at least play minor league ball. 

The Catcher in the Rye was Arby's favorite book to date.  He sat in the
3rd row of the bleachers behind home plate with his feet sprawled out 
as he read the book that with every turned page convinced him that all 
the anger and resentment, as well as the feelings of being given a raw 
deal in life, were normal.  Part of him wanted to just forget the game 
and read the book to the last page.  Since it was relatively short, he 
could have it done in a matter of hours, but rushing a great read 
seemed somehow like leaving a baseball game before the 27th out.  It 
just wasn't done.    Shutting the thin, white paperback masterpiece, he 
got up and did a stretch before he tightened his spikes and headed into 
the dugout the area.  In the dugout, he placed the book in his athletic 
bag and slid it under the bench. 

As he checked himself over, he noticed a bunch of his teammates talking
over by the bullpen mound where he'd be warming up in a few minutes.  
Arby hated to talk while he warmed up, preferring to just concentrate 
on his pitches and getting his arm loose.  He tucked in his white 
jersey and straightened the red belt and red socks so he looked 
perfectly coordinated.  It was one of his superstitions, that before 
warm-ups, and each inning before taking the mound, he look 
well-groomed.  On the occasions he rushed out without primping he'd 
pitched lousy, and on this last game of his life he was certainly not 
going to take a chance.  The last thing he did before going out to the 
warm-up mound was secure his red hat with the large white “W” squarely 
on his head.  He was going to pitch well in his final performance as a 
West Valley High School Pioneer. 

Arby said nothing as he stepped onto the mound and saw his catcher, the
ever scowling Doug Gonring,  immediately scamper over and get in a 
crouch.   He always began with fastballs to get nice and loose and as 
he fired his first few he felt a bit sluggish.  They weren't popping 
well in the mitt.  It was then he heard the guys behind him talking.   
The voice was unmistakably that of Spider Albrecht. 

“She wanted it bad,” he said.  “I'll tell you how hot she was, she went
down on me after I finished to get me going a second time.”  The guys 
around him were besides themselves with laughter and catcalls. 

Arby just tried to concentrate on his pitches, he knew Spider had a few
girls.  It was no big thing, having sex.  Most of the team, including 
himself had gone to Tijuana the previous summer and lost their 
virginity.  For himself it was okay, but wasn't the great experience 
he'd hoped for.  The way his former best friend was talking, however, 
it was obviously a female classmate he'd been able to bag. 

“Spider got laid last night,” said Gary Ott, the leftfielder,  as he
walked by. 

“Big fucking deal,” said Arby,  just as he bounced a curveball. 

“I'll say it was,” Gary said as he started jogging away.  Then he turned
and yelled back at Arby.  “It was Jill Wellnack.” 

Arby said nothing but threw a fastball that went wild over Doug's head. 
His face was hot with seething anger.  He'd worshiped Jill for nearly 
three years.  The two of them were friends and he realized early that 
he'd never be considered by her to be anything but her friend, but he 
loved her.  After she had broken up with her college age boyfriend in 
April, and since he wasn't dating anyone seriously, the two of them 
went to the prom together.  He never dared tell her of his true 
feelings, but he'd told one person; Spider Albrecht. 

“I'm ready,” Arby screamed down at Doug, then turned to find Albrecht
standing nearby with some other teammates.   “Why would you lie like 
that about Jill?” 

Spider grinned at Arby and he could clearly see in his former friend's
eyes that he wasn't lying.  He'd known him long enough to know when he 
was lying and unfortunately, Spider Albrecht was speaking the truth. 

“I can't believe it,” said Arby.  “Why?  I just can't believe she would
do that with you.” Then in a quieter voice, he whispered to the 
shortstop who had been his friend.   “You know how I feel about her.” 

“Wake up, Ace,” Spider said.  He often called Arby ‘Ace.'  “She was
hitting on me.  After two beers she was mine and I fucked her.  She's 
no princess, dumbass.” 

Standing there behind the warm-up mound, Arby felt himself slowly boil
to a rage as he stared at the green grass and tore at some of it with 
his spikes.  He was a bull in an arena.  Any sounds of the other 
players, batting practice, and the crowd beginning to show up, began to 
disappear as he felt his fist clench.  For a few seconds he could 
actually feel the blood flow through his veins.  Before anyone realized 
what happened, including himself and Spider, Albrecht was on the 
ground.  He'd hit him hard in the face with his left fist.  There was 
blood on the shortstop's mouth while Arby's pitching hand was now 
throbbing in pain, especially his middle finger.  Spider was dazed but 
smiling as he got up, wiping his mouth with his sleeve.  Their 
teammates,  and coach Perkins, quickly ran over and got between them. 

“What the hell?” Coach Perkins was livid.  “I ought to throw you both
out of here and if it wasn't your last game I would.” 

“Dumbass,” Albrecht said.  He was practically laughing. 

“Fuck you.” Arby was grim and angry, and rubbing his left hand into the
soft leather of his mitt. 

“Are you two idiots okay?” Perkins grabbed each of them by the arm. 
“Well?” 

Albrecht nodded and Arby pulled away and said, “I'm fine.  Let's go it's
over.” 

“It better be, Oswell.”  Perkins then ordered the team into the dugout. 
His pre-game was talk was a bit subdued and more focused on playing and 
acting like professionals.  Arby ignored the coach for the most part, 
and just stared over at the opposing dugout at the gray and green clad 
Mt. Royal Highlanders. 

Taking the mound, Arby began his warm-ups and saw his mother and
20-year-old sister in the bleachers with looks of concern on their 
faces.  Obviously they'd heard what had happened if they hadn't seen it 
themselves.  He wasn't close to either of them and though he certainly 
loved them, he shared very little of himself and felt as if he were an 
isolated member of the household since his father's death.  After the 
final warm-up, Doug threw the ball down to second and came out to the 
mound. 

“You gonna be okay?” 

Arby nodded silently.  From behind he heard Spider come up.  He was
reaching his mitt out to touch Arby's, a ritual they'd practiced since 
little league.  For the first time in his life, he ignored his 
shortstop, not even turning around to acknowledge him.  Once the 
awkward moment was over, the game mercifully began. 

From the very first pitch of the game,  Arby showed everyone in the park
that he was deadly serious and determined.    Using his frustration and 
anger, he funneled his fury into a flaming fastball and began mowing 
down the Highlanders one after another.  The ball was traveling exactly 
where he wanted it, inside corner, outside corner, and with a velocity 
he had never experienced.  In baseball there is an old maxim that one 
cannot play the game with his teeth clenched, but he was disproving the 
theory to all in attendance.  Every batter was Spider, or Jill, or the 
cigarettes he blamed for taking his father, his father himself for 
refusing to quit smoking, everything and everyone he was angry at in 
life was coming to the plate and he was throwing the ball down their 
throats.  Through 5 innings he'd retired 15 consecutive batters, 11 of 
them by strikeout.  His finger no longer hurt. 

In the dugout between innings he sat off by himself, scowling.  He
wasn't in the mood to talk or even hit.  In his two at bats he'd weakly 
popped up and grounded out.  There was no score, as the Pioneers had 
left five runners on base.  Arby was in the midst of a masterpiece, two 
innings away from a perfect game and yet he couldn't win because they 
hadn't scored a run. Just how his fucking life was going, he muttered 
to himself as he buried his face in a towel.  Breathing hard to empty 
his lungs and wipe the sweat from his face, he suddenly he heard the 
sharp ping of an aluminum bat and the roar of the fans and his 
teammates.  He had to stand to see what was happening and there, 
rounding the bases,  was Spider Albrecht.  It was 1-0.  His teammates 
went out to greet the star shortstop at home plate, but he slumped back 
onto the bench and wiped his face off.    Now he had a lead and it was 
on all on himself.   When his former friend came into the dugout, he 
just put the towel to his face again.  He didn't want to look at him.  
He couldn't look at him. 

“You got your lead, now hold ‘em!”  Doug slapped his back as the two of
them went out to the mound and home plate. 

The 6th inning was a breeze for Arby, striking out two more and getting
the third out on a lazy fly ball to center.  It was the first 
Highlander ball hit out of the infield all afternoon.  West Valley went 
down in order in their half of the inning and that left just three outs 
in the 7th inning between himself and a perfect game.  Nolan Ryan had 
hurled four no-hitters in his career, but he'd never thrown a perfect 
game. 

For the 7th inning, Arby would have to face the top of the Mt. Royal
line-up.  He saw the three batters meeting at the on deck circle and 
they looked determined to break the spell, but he was not about to let 
that happen.  He could hear the encouragement of his teammates, but he 
ignored them.  His stare was fixed on Doug's mitt behind home plate.  
Spider's voice could be heard clearly, “three more, Ace, come on now.”  
He struck out the first batter on three pitches.  On the next batter he 
got a bit wild and the count went to 3 and 2.  He decided he wasn't 
taking a chance on walking him and fired his best fastball right down 
the middle, challenging the hitter.  The ball was hit hard and on a 
line toward left center and he was sure his gem was gone, but then saw 
Gary Ott sprinting over from left and stabbing the ball in the air.  
Two out.  After a curveball and fastball both missed the plate, he 
found himself behind 2-0 to the opposition's best hitter.   Going with 
a change-up, he got the man to swing early and foul it deep to the side 
of right field into the parking lot. Breathing hard in and out, filling 
and emptying his lungs, he went into his wind up and fired a hard 
fastball in on the batter's fists.  He swung and popped it high into 
the cloudless blue sky.  Arby came off the mound, shielding his eyes 
with his glove, and watched the ball slowly descend back down and right 
into Spider's waiting leather.  The game was over. 

In seconds the area behind the pitcher's mound was a mob scene.  Arby
found himself being slapped and hugged by every player in the red and 
white of West Valley.  He felt Spider smack his back several times 
screaming “You did it, Ace.  Way to go.”   Slowly the entanglement of 
ball players moved toward the dugout and he was finally able to break 
free.  He nodded toward some of his teammates as they shouted their 
congratulations, but he was mainly focused on getting away.  Though the 
day had been a triumph by any standards, all he was thinking about was 
making an escape.  He wanted to be alone and reflect on what had 
happened by himself.  Grabbing his bag from under the bench,  he 
sprinted down the right field foul line toward the area behind the 
fence where his father's old candy apple red Buick Le Sabre was parked. 
 Still in his sweaty uniform, he drove home, figuring he could get his 
clothes from his locker on Monday.   It shocked even himself how fast 
he'd run from the final and best game of his life. 

At home he showered and changed into an Angels T-shirt and gym shorts
and sprawled out on the couch to watch the ball game.  California was 
playing the Oakland A's. Other than the sound of Dick Enberg, the house 
was silent, until he heard the sound of his sister's crappy Chevy 
Monza.  They came in and both congratulated Arby and asked him about 
the fight, but he just shrugged and referred to both instances as “no 
big deal.” He didn't look at them, never taking his eyes off the 
screen.  They reminded him, as if he didn't know, that it was his final 
game.  He replied with an uninterested, “I know it was.”  They 
obviously weren't sure whether to be happy for him or worry about him, 
but he wasn't going to help them.  After assuring them he was okay, 
they finally left him alone. 

Arby sat watching the Ryan-less Angels and wondered what would happen. 
People would talk both about the fight and his perfect game.  They 
might even say that his anger at Spider inspired him to notch 21 
consecutive outs, and that is was Spider who was the true hero.  He 
wondered if Jill would hear about what happened.  She hadn't been at 
the game, but word would get to her.  Would she hear that he'd defended 
her honor or just that he'd acted like a fool before throwing a perfect 
game.  Did he defend her honor, or was he as angry at her as he was at 
the world?  He cursed himself for not laughing off his former friend's 
exploits with the girl he loved.   A game that should have filled him 
with happiness was just adding to the frustration he felt in life. He 
had two more weeks of school before graduation and he knew he'd have to 
endure questions, stares, and who knows what else before it was over. 

Nothing was the same anymore.  Nothing would ever be the same.  Arby
watched the Angels fall behind Oakland early in the game.  They looked 
lousy and they no longer had Nolan Ryan.   He felt lousy and he no 
longer had his father.  His father was gone,  Nolan was gone,  baseball 
was gone and he had no idea where he was going. 

TC 


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