“Nice hit.” “Thanks,” I say, reaching for a bottle of water and drinking half of it. “Jensen.” Coach Dismuke calls me over. “Yeah?” “You dropped your elbow; make sure you keep it up. That would have been a home run.” “Got it.” He claps me on the back and I move to sit with the rest of the guys. We’re on game twenty-eight out of one-forty-four. So far it’s been the best nine months of my life. We win the game 4-2 with two bases scored from my hits. I’m holding my own out here and even though the road can get lonely, I’m not one to be short on company, even if it’s temporary. “Looks like your fan club’s here,” Marcus says, pointing across the bar. We have tomorrow off and the coach gives us time to blow some steam while we’re in Durham. Normally we’d be back on the bus by now.
