Chapter 17

It was already dawn by the time we collapsed into our hotel-room beds in Miami. Happily, we had a night game, and still almost twelve hours before we'd be reporting to the ballpark. We would have time to recover -- at least, those of us who'd learned how to sleep in the daytime.

One of the Orioles coaches spread the word, to the front desk and to the housekeeping crew, that nobody on our wing of the seventh floor wanted to be disturbed before 2 p.m. at the earliest.

This was my first road trip with Amy since we had become lovers. Back in Baltimore, my imagination had run wild with romantic dreams of nights of passion, all spent on Amy's side of dozens of hotel room divider doors ranging from Boston to Anaheim.

But there was no off-the-field joy in Atlanta, because I was staying with my family, and Amy was in her hotel room, sleeping chastely alone.

And now, as we arrived with the sun in Miami, it was clear that Amy would prefer to sleep alone for at least one more night on the road -- or make that one more day.

That was OK by me. I was pooped.

We won the opener of the three-game set with the Marlins, with our lefthander, Ed Murphy, really putting the collar on the usually hard-hitting Fish.

The next night was supposed to have been my start in Florida, but my four innings in the second game in Atlanta had changed all that. Instead, the Orioles had brought up a 20-year-old kid from Bowie -- a reputed flamethrower -- to make a one-night stand in the Bigs before being allowed to sink back into Class Double-A obscurity.

The kid wasn't half bad! He put in a decent six innings, but eventually lost it for us.

The good news was, the game ran under two and a half hours and we all got back to the hotel before 11 p.m. There would be few Oriole night owls hitting the Miami clubs that night. Most of the players just wanted to get back to sleeping nights -- starting as soon as they'd enjoyed a late dinner.

I graciously waited until Shiggie had fallen asleep before I pushed gently on the unlocked divider door and entered Amy's darkened room.

She was asleep, too.

Wearing only my birthday suit, I slid into the bed beside her and was delighted to find that she was identically attired. The room was cool -- too cool, really -- so I was reluctant to rip off all her covers and expose poor Amy to a sudden harsh temperature change.

Instead, I burrowed under the covers, lifted one lower corner of the sheet and blanket to create a passage for outside air, and began encouraging Amy to awaken -- in the gentlest and pleasantest way I knew how.

After a little while, I became almost certain that she was already awake -- but playing possum. Maybe she was afraid that if I knew she was awake, I might stop.

I guess the girl just didn't know me all that well yet. I had no intention of stopping -- unless and until she did that clean-and-jerk lifting thing, with both hands on my ears, once again.

If there was no lifting, there would be no stopping! This was definitely turning into my best road trip -- ever!

We won the rubber game Friday night and flew back to Baltimore after our brief road foray into the National League. Now two home series of inter-league play came next, with the Phillies and the Mets dropping by Camden Yards. We'd be back home for six days.

There were only two reporters trailing us home, at

1 a.m., from Baltimore-Washington International, but they were taking flash pictures when Samantha Suzuki met us on the front porch.

Barefoot and wearing only brief shorts and a stretch halter, Samantha leaped into Shiggie's arms, and laid a wet one right on his lips as she straddled his hips suggestively with both her legs.

Amy and I were a little shocked, and God knows what Shiggie was thinking, but the "lovers' reunion" looked realistic as hell. I wouldn't have been too surprised if Shiggie hadn't experienced a battlefield conversion right on the spot, and had decided to go straight!

Samantha finally relocated the porch floor with her feet and, with her left arm still wrapped around Shiggie's waist, she led us all inside.

"Damn!" I said. "What a welcome! Amy, ask Shiggie if that gave him a boner!"

"I won't ask him any such thing!" Amy responded, indignant. Then she realized I was kidding, and cracked a very small smile.

I put my arm around little Samantha's narrow shoulders and squeezed her upper arm. "If there's any chance at all that Shiggie is bi, you're definitely going to bring it out of him!" I said.

Amy was serious now. "Sam, you really ought to get out of the habit of talking about Shiggie as if he weren't standing right there," she said. "It's rude as hell -- even if he isn't actually following the conversation. Besides, he's learning quite a lot of English now, and he's liable to know what's being said."

She was right. I quickly apologized to Shiggie, and asked Amy to make certain that my apology had been fully understood.

"Shiggie says Samantha is a great actress," Amy said, "and he accepts your apology, and also says he doesn't mind being teased -- a little -- about such things."