Chapter 6

We whipped up on Detroit, 10-4, in the opening game of our six-game home stand. I actually got into the game, in the fourth inning, when the Tigers scored all four of their runs. All four runs were officially charged to our starter, although I was the one who let the last of them in, on a one-out ground single. After that, I held that Tiger through the fifth and sixth, while the game was still close, and Paul Warren yanked me when the Birds took the field for the seventh. We were ahead, 4-3 when I came in and we were tied, 4-4 when I came out, so I didn't get credit for the eventual win, but I got a "hold" for the game. Not much of a statistic, but I was happy. And my ERA was going to move down a tad.

Amy was cheerfully perched in her first-row seat next to Paul Warren's end of the dugout, and he actually exchanged a few words with her, twice, late in the game, when I was already out of it and sitting on the dugout bench. I wanted to walk down and say hello to Amy, but it would have meant standing in front of the Manager, Paul Warren, and I figured he wouldn't appreciate it that much.

Anyway, ol' Ame was going to be going home with me!

After the game, we hit the showers and I gathered up Shiggie for the ride back to the house. This time, when I grabbed his non-pitching arm, Shiggie said, "Home" in English. I felt like a big brother whose infant sibling had just said his first word. We met Amy at the car and I told her that Shiggie had said his first English word.

"Probably not really his first," she said. "Japanese ballplayers pick up a little English, you know. English is pretty pervasive, all over the world. I'll bet he knows all the English-language cuss words you've ever heard. He'd have picked them up from the American players in the Pacific League"

"Let's try him!" I said, starting the car. "Shiggie! You know -- 'fuck it'?"

"Fuck it!" Shiggie said immediately, eyes sparkling.

From the back seat, Amy said, "Maybe this isn't such a good idea. Don't forget, I'm trying to teach him a few key phrases in English."

"Well, 'fuck it' is pretty key," I argued.

"Right. Wait'll he says it in front of Paul Warren's wife and kid. We're going to go over there, you know, for a team party. Paul Warren told me about it today."

"A team party? Jeez, when will they find the time? We haven't got a single off day coming until we leave for Toronto on the next road trip -- and that's going to be a travel day!"

"You've got a day game Sunday, the last day the team's in town," Amy said. "That's the night Paul and his wife are having the players over."

"The whole team?"

"Well, I understand everyone's invited, but it's to be made clear that showing up isn't a 'duty' thing. Probably only the newer guys on the team will show up for it."

"Yeah, that sounds right. Off-time is at such a premium, Paul wouldn't have put any kind of pressure on the veterans to show up for a domestic event -- especially on the night before a road trip."

"I'll bet some of their wives will want them to come, though," Amy said. "Paul said I should try to meet some of them, during the games. Most of the wives and children sit in a section not too far from my spot by the dugout. He said occasionally one of the wives might come along on a road trip, and if they did, they'd ask me to share my room."

"Gee. That's inconvenient. I was thinking of asking if I could share your room!"

"Well, think about it some more before you ask."

"Y'know, Ame, Paul Warren said more to you today than he's said to me the whole time I've been with the club. He must be a leg man!"

"He's very nice," Amy answered. She then ignored me and launched into a long explanation, in Japanese, of the party invitation, the time, and so forth, for Shiggie. "Shiggie says he's up for it," she reported.

"How about we find a Japanese restaurant for Shiggie tonight," I suggested?

"It's pretty late, for a week-night" Amy responded. "I doubt anything'll still be open. We probably should settle for an all-night place. Anyway, Shiggie doesn't seem to mind eating American food."

"I know where there's a Ruby Tuesday's," I said.

We went there.

Shiggie told me -- through Amy -- that I had done well, getting eight outs in tonight's game, and shutting down the Tigers for the middle innings. The guy was ingratiating. He had a friendly, intelligent expression on his face, and he didn't seem as bewildered as I thought that I would be, if our situations had been reversed.

Amy helped, of course. She was careful to include Shiggie in all the conversations, inserting rapid-fire translations whenever I said anything, however inane, or whenever she had something to say to me.

"I'm meeting my brother tomorrow for lunch," Amy said. "You want to come along?" She asked Shiggie the same question. It was agreed that the three of us would meet Ford for lunch downtown, near his office. After lunch, Shiggie and I had a date with the club's workout room. I'd been shirking since we got back from the road trip, but it was time to get serious again. And I knew Shiggie would want to be there. Japanese players have a work ethic that puts most Americans to shame.

Shiggie would like the Orioles' workout facilities. They were top-drawer, all the way.

We had a good time at lunch with Ford the next day. Shiggie was being taught the names of various food items, and that generated some laughs at his expense. It was clear that Shiggie wasn't thin-skinned or easily offended. The guy could take a joke and keep on smiling.

The language barrier remained pretty high, but Shiggie and I were becoming pals, just the same. Amy helped by being easy going and warm to both of us, as if we'd all known each other for months, instead of for only a couple of days.

Ford took Amy back to the house while Shiggie and I drove in my car to Camden Yards for a post-lunch workout. After three hard hours, we went back to the house for the brief remaining time available before we'd have to report for that night's game. We knew that neither of us would be called upon to pitch that night. Shiggie's second start was still a day away, and my three innings the previous night made it highly unlikely I'd be doing any relieving in game two against Detroit.

With perhaps a half hour to go before we'd have to leave home again, Amy and I found ourselves together on the porch swing once again.