Angels Walking Read Free

and high-fived his catcher, William Trapnell. Six innings, eighteen straight batters. Fourteen strikeouts. Three ground-outs to first. One caught fly ball. Jep Black, the Blue Wahoos manager, met him at the dugout. “Got someone to hit for you, Tyler.” He patted his back. “Rest your arm.”
    Tyler nodded and took a spot at the end of the bench. This was his second season with the Blue Wahoos, and though the roster changed constantly, he generally liked his teammates. Several of them shouted congratulations.
    “You’re perfect tonight, Ames.” William swigged down a water bottle, breathless. “You own this.”
    Tyler gave him a thumbs-up. “Thanks. Keep it up.” He volleyed a couple more compliments, slid a jacket over his pitching arm, and leaned back. He could relax this inning with the designated hitter taking over.
    He closed his eyes and filled his lungs with the ocean air. Hadn’t he known this would happen? When he got moved up from the Dayton A team last spring he had expected great things.
    Tyler blinked and stared at home plate. The first Blue Wahoos batter was up. Tyler worked the muscles in his hand, making a fist and releasing it. His team was at the top of the lineup. Plenty of time. Tyler squinted at the distant lights, the sponsor signs on the outfield walls. Like a grainy YouTube clip, the seasons ran together in his mind. Star of the 2002 Little League World Series. In high school, California’s Mr. Baseball. Most recruited pitcher in the history of UCLA.
    How had it all gone so wrong?
    The fallout with his parents, his back injury, the public drunkenness charges, the girls. He had fallen out of grace with his fans and everyone he loved.
    Sami Dawson most of all. Her name made his heart hurt. Sami, girl . . . where are you? What happened to us? He closed his eyes again. He had loved her more than life. But that was a hundred years ago.
    Cheers interrupted his personal highlight reel. He opened his eyes and watched their centerfielder hit a triple. Blue Wahoos up, 3–0. He massaged his right arm. It was sore, but a whole lot better than usual. He had three more innings in him. Definitely.
    A picture filled his mind. He and Sami, both of them seventeen, sitting together on her grandparents’ roof. Aww, Sami. We thought we had forever back then . The stars had looked brighter that night, the silhouette of the trees like something from a dream. No one had believed in him more than Sami Dawson.
    What was I thinking? How could I let you go?
    Tyler gritted his teeth. Tonight was where it would all turn around. He would Google his own name tomorrow and see something different. Tyler Ames: Perfect. Story after story would say the same thing. He’d made it. Finally found his way. He would be perfect and everyone would know. Maybe even Sami.
    Buried would be all the headlines still there at the moment.
    Tyler Ames: The Kid Who Didn’t Live Up to His Potential.
    Minor League Purgatory: The Story of Tyler Ames.
    The Sad Life of Tyler Ames: Mr. Baseball, Mr. Joke.
    Tyler exhaled. The pain of his past was as close as the nearest computer. Any kid with a cell phone could read about the hero he’d been.
    And the failure he’d become.
    Every game, every inning of the past few years was like an act of penance now, a way to absolve himself for the sins of his past. And every single pitch had led to this.
    The chance to be perfect. No hits, no walks, no one on base. Perfect.
    For the first time.
    What would his parents say after tonight? His father’s face flashed in his mind. Funny. Whenever he thought of his dad, he thought of him angry. Correcting his pitching form, scrutinizing his weight training, questioning him.
    Another run scored and the Blue Wahoos were back in the outfield. Tyler felt warm and focused. More ready than ever. Jep Black’s words from earlier that day ran through his head: “Tonight’s your night, Ames. Go out there and prove me right.”
    Indeed.
    Jep had been talking to scouts