On days like this, the stadium was a little piece of paradise. Light reflected up off the Bay into the sky, the chilling fog parked miles out at sea and the energy of forty thousand people, all happy to be out for the game, rippled so strong in the air he could almost touch it.He turned his attention back to the game.Scotty had struck out the first two Padres batters, but their slugger, Vincente, was at the plate.Vincente took the first pitch, and Ryan smiled to himself. It’d been a perfect pitch to hit.But the sound as the guy hit into the heart of the ball on the next pitch was one Ryan preferred not to hear. He’d dubbed it the “Home Run Anthem.” Every batter liked to hear it when they were at the plate, but to a fielder, that sound meant trouble.Ryan traced the arc of the ball as he raced back toward the center field wall and leaped. He closed his glove around the ball as his shoulder slammed into the wall, knocking the breath out of him.He slid down the wall, ignoring the pain and gripping the ball.
