Chapter 10

We took both games from the Devil Rays. That was unusual. In the past, no matter how miserable the Tampa Bay club was, they had always managed to compete with us, nose-to-nose. The Orioles' tendency in recent years had been to play up or down to the level of our competition. We'd stand tall against New York and Boston, but often would allow Tampa Bay and other cellar-dwellers to steal wins.

It was frustrating -- for the players and the fans.

So beating Tampa Bay two straight felt like more than something just routine. Maybe it meant we were going to stay solid, all season long.

We were 23-15 and in first place, a game ahead of the Goddamned Yankees, when the White Sox came in for three. Chicago was hot again this year, leading their Division, and we knew our work was cut out for us.

Shiggie had the first start against Chicago, on Friday night, and we lost the opener in ten innings, 5-4. Shiggie came out in the 7th and didn't take the loss.

We won on Saturday night and, sure enough, Paul Warren told me, after Saturday night's game, that I'd start on Sunday. "I didn't want you to brood about it," he explained, "so I held off telling you until now."

"Fine. Now I can go home and lie awake all night," I said, but Paul knew I was kidding. I was delighted to get a chance to start -- my first time in the Bigs. Sure, I was his last resort, and I'd be back to long relief as soon as Holtz got back; but, hey -- for now, I was Sam Bailey, starting pitcher for the first-place Baltimore Orioles!

You can go ahead and carve my tombstone, boys. I've got the phrase I want you to engrave on that sucker!

I was in my now-familiar spot on the porch swing late Saturday night when Amy came out with hot tea. It was late May now, and a hot night in Baltimore, but Amy knew I liked hot tea, anyway.

Coffee all day, decaf hot tea late at night. (Decaf coffee never.)

It's nice when somebody knows your little quirks like that. It made me feel a little closer to Amy Parkison.

"Thanks, Ame. This'll help me sleep tonight."

"You're getting the start tomorrow, right?"

"Unless Flanagan can scare up a spare arm somewhere, it looks like they're gonna give me the ball. The question is, if I blow up early, who're they going to use for long relief?"

"You won't."

"I won't what?"

"You won't blow up early -- or later, for that matter."

"The Sox got some pretty fierce hitters."

"You'll baffle them with your slider."

"I don't know. That kid third baseman of theirs hits me like I'm his cousin."

"Give him the change-up. Then, when he's expecting something else, give him the change-up again. He'll twist himself into a pretzel!"

"Damn! You sound just like Arlie Stone!"

"I taught Arlie everything he knows. Throw them everything, Sam. You can do it. You've got all kinds of pitches -- slider, curve, change. Mix it up! Vary your motion -- the way you do it when you're really sailing out there! And don't forget -- even your fastball looks hot after you've thrown all that slop up there long enough!"

"I think I'd be happier if you were a little less knowledgeable about this game."

"You don't like women who know baseball?"

"It's not that, exactly. I'm just not sure I like it that you, in particular, know as much as you do about my abilities on the field. You've gotta know that every trip out there is an adventure for me. I don't have overpowering stuff, and every so often, I really get pounded. If it happens once too often, I'm selling insurance someplace."