Chapter 59

Brock found Matt Driesbach walking out of the locker room at the same time as Brock passed through the doors.

"Nice debut," Brock offered. Matt had set up the lead run by laying down a sacrifice bunt with two strikes. It was the sort of play that doesn't show up in the box score.

"You, too," Matt offered. "That was a hell of a try on the pop up. I didn't get the chance to compliment your hustle on that play."

"Thanks," Brock said.

"It was cool what you did for those kids, too," Matt added. "I heard what they told you. The fans are really on your side."

"They've been good to me," Brock admitted. "Well, most of them anyway. Are you heading out tonight?"

"Nah," Matt answered. "That scene gets old in a hurry."

"It did for me," Brock said. "Uh, some of us are heading out to dinner downtown. You want to join us? It's just a casual thing."

"That sounds fun but I can't," Matt told him. "I've got an early meeting in the morning."

"We won't be getting drunk or anything," Brock replied. "We probably won't even be out late. This place has some fantastic food. It's a private thing so no one will bother you."

"I'm meeting with a dietician," Matt admitted. "Then I've got a personal training session afterward. It would suck to sit there and eat a salad while you guys are chowing down. It would also suck to upchuck all over the trainer."

Brock and Matt shared a laugh.

"Well, you're welcome to join us if you change your mind," Brock said. "Let me give you my number. You can always come over after the dinner portion if you're worried about over-indulging."

"That's kind of you," Matt told him. "But I think tonight I'm just going to stay in. Next time you plan something like this, let me know."

"You bet," Brock said. He slapped Matt on the back as the shortstop turned to where his car service was parked. Meredith and Randi were waiting for him with Chris and Jen. The rest had already headed downtown.

"We need to wait for Zack," Brock said.

"Man he was lights out tonight," Chris commented. "He mowed those guys down in the ninth."

"It was a welcomed change from Stimson," Brock agreed, leaning down to give Meredith a kiss on the cheek. "Thanks for keeping the section off Driesbach tonight."

"It wasn't easy," Jen said. "They seriously dislike that guy. But we reminded them of what you said last night. Well, Merie did. She is like the Queen of the Section. She told them it bothered you when they were rude to other players. I, on the other hand, found it amusing when they turned their backs to him the other day."

"You weren't even there," Chris pointed out.

"I saw it online," Jen said with a shrug. "I've come to realize that there is probably a video of damned near anything if you look hard enough. A girl from Atlanta knows I'm Brock's friend. She sent me the link."

"What's taking Zack so long?" Randi asked. "My belly is hungry."

"He's trying to call Tara again, I think," Brock said with a frown. "He tried to call her earlier but I guess she was getting ready to go on the air or something."

"Crap, she was probably talking to me," Jen said. "I called her when Zack came in to pitch and we stayed on the phone for a while. She said she would give him time to talk to the media and get showered before she called him back. She tried to deafen me when he got the last out."

Indeed, Zack walked out of the players' entrance a few minutes later with his phone pressed to his ear. He chatted amiably with Tara as the group drove to the bistro for a late supper. Brock was glad to see him happier but he knew the underlying problem hadn't been resolved. The worst part was that Brock didn't think it had a resolution.

Hailey's family and her friend Karen were the guests of honor, although everyone made sure to keep the fact the women had snuck into a private party from her father and brother. The group shared stories and jokes before Zoe, as head of Brock's charitable foundation, announced that Hailey and Karen both had been awarded funding to continue their educations if they wanted.

The next evening was an off day for the Dodgers because of the league's awkward early season scheduling so Brock hosted a party so everyone could watch Chastity and her teammates play Japan in the Women's World Cup (and of course, listen to Tara as she gave commentary on the action).

It was obvious from the outset that Tara had done her homework. Brock wasn't certain the young woman had ever even watched a soccer game before taking her assignment in Chile. But she knew the game and offered insightful comments about the style of play and the players on the field from her network booth.

It was equally obvious to those who watched that Japan wouldn't be a pushover. The U.S. women hadn't been tested thus far in the tournament. They cruised through the pool play without allowing a goal against and won their quarterfinal and semifinal matches handily.

Japan was exceptionally quick and deceptively strong. Their smaller defenders somehow managed to move the bigger U.S. forwards off the ball or off their line. The U.S. scored on a free kick at the 30-minute mark and that score held up until halftime.

The second half was more of the same. The Japanese players displayed a little more urgency as the game wore on and tied the game at one midway through the second half. J.C. groaned as one of the Japanese forwards out-leaped a U.S. defender following a corner kick to head the ball past Tia Barnett.

The U.S. women turned away two more scoring opportunities from their opponents – one on another corner – but couldn't manufacture much offense themselves until just before the game's 90-minute point.

Louisa Bond, the U.S. team's elder stateswoman, got space just outside the box and slipped a hard shot past the goalie, who was screened on the play by a pair of her own defenders. With the game winding down, Japan went into full attack mode.

Almost the entire injury time was spent in the U.S. end. Japan would press forward and the U.S. defenders would either boom the ball back down the pitch or direct it aside for a throw-in. At one point, all 22 players were on the U.S. end of the field as the Japanese goalie came forward as part of a last-ditch attack.

The ploy almost worked. Somehow, one of the forwards found enough space to send the ball rocketing toward the goal. The ball caromed off the hip of a U.S. defender and Tia barely got wide enough to punch the ball past the goalpost and out of play.

The triple whistle signaling the end of the contest sounded before the frantic Japanese team could put the ball in play again from the corner.

The air whooshed out of everyone's lungs in the room in Los Angeles. Some of the fans were on their knees in the final seconds, watching the furious action with rapt attention. J.C. was chewing on his knuckles when the last shot was turned away.

Al's daughters had been allowed up past their bedtimes to watch the conclusion of the contest. Faith was bouncing on her mother's knee with abject joy when the final whistle sounded. It would be several more hours before she was off to slumber, Brock figured.

"That was ... intense!" Jen said, shaking her head. "There was so much action packed into the last four minutes. The whole game was so fluid. I bet there wasn't a dozen fouls in the whole match."

"A far cry from the one we saw in Arizona," Susan offered. "This was like poetry in motion. I mean, I don't know much about soccer, but I could see the plays developing. I would see a player making a run down the side and I knew the pass was going to her. That one girl on Japan was amazing. I think she ran full-speed for 95 minutes."

Meredith was quiet as the others chatted and critiqued the game. She sat and watched her boyfriend as the game went on. He had pumped his fist when Chastity assisted on the game-winning goal. As the rest of the group had celebrated by raising their fists, he had put his arm around Meredith and hugged her to him.

As the game concluded and she watched the U.S. players celebrate on the field, Meredith wondered if Chastity Durant would ever realize how much a World Cup win had cost.

The Dodgers resumed play the next afternoon and managed to squeeze out another win against the Padres.

They reeled off six wins in their first eight games. Somehow, despite losing Al and John, the team finished April at 18-11 and held a two-game lead in the division.

Surprisingly it was the offense that carried the team. The starting pitching was troublesome. No starter had an ERA below 4.00 and none had pitched past the sixth inning. The team was winning games by scores of 9-7 and 10-3. Tony DeLeon was batting better than .400 during the first month of the season – although everyone knew his average would take a dip sooner or later. Four others were batting better than .300 – Matt Driesbach, Wade Watson and Cesar Davis.

Brock and Josh both had averages in the .275 range but they were tied for the team lead in homers with six each. Brock's strikeout-to-walk ratio was terrible but batting in the three spot – and with DeLeon on base half the time – he had to take his cuts to try to bring him home. He struck out 13 times in April and earned only six walks. That was almost exactly opposite from his ratio the year before when he fanned only 35 times all season. Still, he knocked in 21 runs in the month so no one was complaining too loudly.

The complaints started when the team hit a skid in early May. The overworked bullpen broke down and the team lost two relievers to the disabled list. The injury bug didn't constrict itself to the pitching staff.

A bad hop grounder caught Josh under the chin and he went on the seven-day DL with concussion symptoms. Wade woke up one morning with a stiff back and missed three games. Danys Sanchez took a foul ball off the inside of his leg and had to sit out two days.

Jim LaCross was thankful that the outfield was relatively intact. His fourth outfielder was a kid called up from Class AA Jacksonville. He wasn't ready for the big leagues but he was the best they could find in a pinch. He could play all three outfield positions, which was the skill the team most needed. He couldn't expect Davis, DeLeon and Miller to play every inning of every game. Still, the trio only took one day off each during the first six weeks of the season. They would get their breaks when Milton and Perez came back in early to mid-June.

Two days after Josh returned from the DL, Al started a 10-day rehab assignment in Las Vegas. The plan was for Milton's rehab in Jacksonville to commence two days later. Both men had to round into baseball shape. Neither had seen live pitching in six weeks and LaCross was unwilling to rush them back into action – even after the team dropped eight in a row to end May.

LaCross hoped the run of bad luck would end. It didn't.

The day after Al left for Las Vegas, Udo Jergens felt a twinge in his shoulder while the team was playing the Mets in New York City. The Dodgers were faced with losing their top starter for at least a month with tendinitis.

Six days before Al was scheduled to return, disaster struck again – this time to the player who had done his best to hold the team together during the roughest stretches.

With his team trailing by two runs in the seventh inning in New York, Brock made a mad dash for a soft liner to short left field. As he slid to try to catch the ball, his spike caught in the grass and he heard a sickening crack when his foot turned in a direction it wasn't supposed to.

To make matters worse, the ball caromed off the grass and straight into his face, breaking his nose and sending a cascade of blood down the front of his uniform and onto the field. He fought the nausea that accompanied not only the pain from his foot but also the pain in face as he scrambled to his knees to retrieve the ball and toss it weakly back into the infield before the runner took an extra base.

Then he rolled to his side and clutched his lower leg, where his foot hung at an unnatural angle.

The trainer and Jim LaCross were on the field before the umpire even signaled time was out. The visible blood was enough to get LaCross moving. He hadn't even noticed his player holding onto his leg. But the trainer had seen the reason behind the fall and knew the situation wasn't pretty.

He was right. They carried Brock off the field, blood still streaming down his face. Even the notoriously outspoken Mets fans behind the Dodgers' dugout were silent. The players in the dugout were white-faced. The look of pain on Brock's face brought a host of bad memories back to Josh. Zack was in the clubhouse stretching when they carried Brock in.

His first thought was that the team had a brawl with the Mets. It wasn't until the trainer spoke that he realized the truth.

"The ankle is clearly broken," the man said to the manager. "His nose is, too. We need to get him to the hospital to get this X-rayed. I'll call you when I know the extent of the damage."

As the trainer did his preliminary inspection, Zack got a towel to clean off his buddy's face. Brock's nose was twisted obscenely and his mouth was bloody.