Chapter 82

The opening game of the World Series had even more pomp and ceremony than Opening Day, Brock thought.

Aside from player introductions that were even more involved than the first day of season, there was an A-list actress performing "The Star Spangled Banner" and a military flyover. In all, it took 45 minutes from the time Brock finished warming up until he took the field. The Indians were in worse shape. He was sure that several members of the team had slipped into the indoor batting cages to occupy their time. They had to take infield first, so it was close to 90 minutes from the time they went back to their clubhouse until the first pitch was thrown.

Well, Brock guessed it would be the second pitch. The same former manager who had thrown out the first pitch on Opening Day returned to perform the honors during Game 1 of the World Series. It was only fitting because he was the guy who sat in Jim LaCross' seat the last time the Dodgers had made it this far.

LaCross had juggled his lineup once again. With all the games in Los Angeles starting in the twilight, Matt Driesbach was going to start at home. Fred Hartman would play the games in Cleveland, which would start after dark.

Again, neither player groused or complained about missing half the games – despite the fact Brock had one hit in his last 37 at-bats. Only one news organization had made mention of his paltry performance at the plate and the guy who made it did so in a joking manner instead of with malice. The team had finished the regular season on a 22-3 run after Brock's return and brought a nifty 7-2 mark in the postseason with them to the World Series.

He couldn't believe he was going to be given a pass for his lack of production with the bat. Of course, he was smart enough to know that his 'friends' in the media would make sure to point it out if the Dodgers lost.

The fans were out in measure for the pinnacle of the postseason. Even the actor and actresses who dotted the stadium had arrived on time and with little fanfare. There had been a rumor that the President of the United States planned to attend but if he did, Brock didn't see him – for which he was thankful.

The fanfare and delay had left Udo nervous. His first three pitches to the Indians leadoff hitter were well outside the strike zone. Danys called time and took a walk to the mound to calm his hurler. For all of his youth, Danys Sanchez was a remarkably accomplished catcher. His game-calling and defensive abilities had won the pitching staff over during Spring Training and that had continued throughout the long season.

Brock saw Udo take a large breath of air and expel it from his lungs just as the umpire came out to end the conference and get the game moving along.

Udo wound up walking the leadoff hitter but erased him from the base path with a ground ball to Brock that he flipped to Matt Driesbach at second. Driesbach relayed the throw to Wade Watson for the double play.

The next batter popped to third and the Dodgers headed off the field to cheers from their fans.

The bottom of the first was just as quiet with J.C. making quick work of the Dodgers lineup and Udo kept his composure – and the ball down in the strike zone – to get out of the visitors half of the second with only one hit allowed.

Al led off the second for the Dodgers and greeted J.C. with a nod of the head at the plate. J.C. nodded back and then struck out the Los Angeles slugger on four pitches. Josh fared no better, flailing harmlessly at two sliders and then watching an 0-2 fastball catch the outside corner for strike three.

"Damn, he's really got some nasty stuff," Brock remarked as Josh passed him on the way back to the dugout.

"Where in the fuck was that when he was pitching for us?" Josh muttered as he slammed his helmet back in the rack and took a seat.

For Brock, it was one of the few times he'd faced someone he would consider a friend in real competition. There had been inter-squad games during Spring Training but those results were meaningless. This time everything rode on the outcome of the games.

Brock tipped his batting helmet toward J.C., who nodded but didn't smile. Where he had worked Josh, a right-handed hitter, away, he kept the ball inside on Brock, who batted left-handed. The first pitch, a changeup, almost caught Brock on the right knee before he spun away at the last minute. He knew J.C. hadn't meant anything more than to move him off the plate but the umpire still stepped to the side of the catcher in case things got testy.

When he got in the box, Brock stood even closer to the plate than before – and a small smile creased J.C.'s lips momentarily. It was gone quickly and Brock resumed his normal spot in the batter's box. The second pitch was a slider down and away for Ball Two. Brock could see J.C. wasn't happy with where he located the pitch. He figured J.C. would want to come right back with the same pitch but in the spot where he tried to throw it last time.

Brock watched as his friend shook off two signs before nodding his agreement on pitch selection. Sure enough, the slider came again but his time it broke across the outside corner at the last moment – or it would have if Brock's bat hadn't met it.

He made solid contact with the ball and sliced it over the third baseman's head. He was already making his turn at first when he heard the umpire yell, "Foul ball!"

Brock slapped his palms on his thighs. He doubted he would get a better pitch to hit than that one. He was surprised to see Jim LaCross out of the dugout, talking to the third-base umpire and pointing down the leftfield line, where another umpire was stationed.

"What's going on?" Brock asked the catcher, who he knew slightly.

"He thought it was a fair ball," the catcher answered.

"Was it?" Brock wondered.

The catcher gave a sly smile.

"It sure as shit doesn't matter in the end, does it?" he said. "'Cause the umps already said it's foul."

"Good point," Brock said. The third base umpire must have known he screwed the pooch because he let LaCross give it to him pretty good without ejecting the manager. The home plate umpire – the crew chief – finally walked down and ushered LaCross back to the dugout.

Brock had noticed that J.C. had kept his repertoire to two pitches on each of the previous batters. Even when Driesbach had worked the count to 3-and-2, J.C. hadn't shown him more than a fastball and curveball.

With Brock, it had been changeup and slider. He had shifted the location but he hadn't changed pitches. He wanted to keep something back for the hitter's second time at the plate. The last two pitches had been sliders away. Brock guessed another slider but this time on the inner half of the plate.

He got the location correct but the pitch selection wrong. J.C. had come back with a changeup, a full seven miles per hour slower than his slider. Brock got enough of the ball to foul it off into the Indians dugout, scattering the players. Brock stepped out of the box and turned to make sure everyone was OK. The players were all laughing about it, so he figured all was well.

"Sorry, guys," Brock yelled. "It was J.C.'s fault. Blame him for trying to make me look stupid."

That drew more laughter from the players in the dugout. Brock resumed his stance in the batters back and saw J.C. laugh and shake his head. Then when the signs came, J.C. was all business again.

The 2-and-2 pitch was another changeup, but this one was away and slightly off the plate. Brock checked his swing – because he was guessing slider again – and the catcher asked the third base umpire to make sure Brock's bat hadn't broken the plane of the plate. The umpire gave the "Safe" sign, which meant the pitch was Ball Three.

With the count full, J.C. lost the battle. He had already picked up on the fact that Brock knew he was limiting his arsenal per batter. So he tried a curve. It was almost the same velocity as his changeup but it broke at the last minute. Brock was waiting for it and laced a solid shot into the left-center field gap. He coasted into second and watched to make sure there were no miscues when the Indians got the ball back into the infield.

J.C. snatched the ball out of the air when it was thrown back to him and stared at Brock for a moment. Brock hoped he hadn't done something to show up the pitcher. He tried to never do it but he particularly didn't want to have done something arrogant when J.C. was on the mound.

He gave the pitcher a half shrug and a smile.

"You got me that time," J.C. said before he turned back to the mound to face Cesar Davis.

Enrique Chavez, the player Brock was supposed to supplant in Cleveland gave him a slap on the rump and a laugh.

"Beautiful at-bat," he said. "I think I'm pretty lucky they shipped your ass out. I would have been fighting for playing time in Buffalo."

"Shit, Rick," Brock replied. "They shipped me out because they have you. I was completely unnecessary."

Chavez gave another laugh and headed back to his position. Brock watched him go, figuring that Chavez had just spoken more words to him in 30 seconds than he did in the time Brock was up with the Indians.

Brock didn't have time to ruminate long. Cesar Davis got fooled on a curveball but managed to control his bat well enough to dump it over the first baseman's head and into right field. With two outs, Brock was off with contact and trotted home with the game's first run.

He grabbed Sanchez as the catcher came to the plate.

"Slider and change," he said. "That's all you're going to see. If he goes fastball first pitch, it's heater and wrinkle. Got it?"

"I noticed that," the catcher said with a nod. "Thanks."

Brock slapped Danys on the butt and headed to the dugout to get high fives from his teammates. Sanchez grounded back to the mound and the team took the field before Brock could talk to the rest of his teammates.

Udo made the one-run edge hold up through the sixth inning. LaCross was intent upon bringing him back on short rest, so he pulled him when his pitch count got to 95. The manager was thankful his starter had lasted six complete innings. He had Manny Trujillo to work the seventh; Rich Jeffcoat to handle the eighth and Zack Duffy to close things out.

The Indians had never managed to figure out Udo's pitch selection. He mixed his sinker with his slider and came back with a few fastballs to keep them guessing.

Manny Trujillo was the perfect pitcher to bring in after Udo Jergens. They had completely different styles. Trujillo had a 94 mile per hour fastball and a changeup that had batters screwing themselves into the ground if they guessed wrong. If he could find one more pitch to perfect, he would have been a phenomenal starter. But with only two pitches, he was relegated to the bullpen. He had been a long reliever on nine teams in his Major League career, always pitching just well enough for a job but not quite well enough to be assured of a job the next season.

That is, until the Dodgers signed him during Spring Training. He had been nothing short of superb during his time in L.A. His ERA was under 1.00 and he had allowed only three of 41 inherited runners (a man on base left there by the previous pitcher) to score.

Rich Jeffcoat's situation was almost identical. He had bounced around the league for a decade. He had been traded and released. His contract had been sold to Japan. He had been sent through waivers more times than he could count on two hands. The Dodgers had picked him up from Cincinnati for cash considerations after the Reds cut him in Spring Training.

He had one or two bad outings with the Dodgers but Jim LaCross' faith had never wavered. The manager and the pitching coach had planted him in the setup role a few days into the season and had never looked back. He had set the table for Zack Duffy's league-leading 51 saves by posting a 2.35 ERA and striking out more than a batter per inning.

The Indians knew they had their work cut out for them. Unlike the Dodgers, the Indians bullpen had been in a state of flux all season. They had changed closers twice and had paraded more than a dozen bodies through it. The only real flaw in the Indians structure was what happened when its starters got too tired to keep going.

The Indians manager pulled J.C. after the sixth inning, as well. It worked out well for him because the pitcher's spot came up third in the seventh and he could use a pinch hitter.

As they had for Udo in the top of the inning, the more knowledgeable of the Dodgers fans gave J.C. a warm ovation when he walked off the field after the sixth. They knew his day was likely done.

The fans in Brock's section rose to their feet to applaud – not only for his performance but because his departure from Los Angeles had brought their hero to town. J.C. stopped on his way to the first base dugout and turned to acknowledge the ovation. Like the fans who were cheering, he knew his afternoon was over and unless the team got a couple of runs that inning the best he could hope for was a no decision in the books.

He sat down in the dugout and just nodded his acceptance when the manager told him he was through.

Trujillo did his job in the seventh, getting two strikeouts and a weak grounder to short for the last out. The Indians manager didn't go to his beleaguered bullpen. Instead he called upon his normal fifth starter – a guy who hadn't pitched in three weeks.

Josh led off the seventh with a booming double down the right field line that barely missed a home run. Brock followed and glanced to his third base coach for the signs before he entered the box. He had expected to sacrifice bunt – to move the runner into scoring position with less than two outs. Instead what he saw made him blink in surprise.

LaCross had called for the hit-and-run. Brock slid his hand up the barrel of the bat to get the coach to run through the signs again. Instead the coach only nodded his head sharply and turned away.

A hit-and-run in this situation was the least likely thing Brock could think of. First off, Josh Hart was perhaps the slowest man in baseball. He had played catcher almost exclusively since he was 11 years old. Twenty years of crouching behind home plate had caused him numerous knee problems. He was not a swift runner.

The other problem Brock saw was with the batter – him. He had struck out 78 times this season, doubling his total from the season before in almost half the at-bats. He also had only two hits in his last 38 trips to the plate. But he adjusted his batting gloves and settled into the box.

The infield was expecting bunt. The third baseman and first baseman had crept forward in order to reach the ball as swiftly as possible. The second baseman was preparing to cover first and the shortstop was stuck between second and third – because he would be responsible for both if the third baseman had to field the ball. Brock suddenly understood the rationale for the unusual call. The entire middle of the field was wide open – if he could get a pitch to hit.

The pitcher, wanting to get the out recorded, came with a fastball on the outer half of the plate. Josh was off to second as soon as the pitcher's hands broke from his glove. The shortstop, startled, made a dash toward the base and Brock's swing sent the ball to the exact spot he had just vacated. Josh was into third and Brock wound up on first by the time the left fielder raced forward to retrieve the ball and return it to the infield.

The bunt that the Indians expected came from Davis one batter later. The infield was at double-play depth, willing to sacrifice the run to avoid a big inning. Cesar's bunt caught the first baseman flat-footed and Josh scored easily. Cesar was almost safe at first and there was no play at second on Brock.

"You fuckers!" Chavez remarked when Brock arrived. "Playing this National League bullshit is crap."

"It works," Brock said with a laugh.

"Well, yeah," Chavez admitted. "It's still crap."

The National League, where the pitcher hit, was more strategy based. It featured more sacrifice bunts and more runners in motion than the American League, in which almost every team got an extra slugger into the game as the designated hitter. For the Indians, it was Alby Schexnayder, one of the top home run hitters in baseball when he was healthy (which was rare).

The extra run was all the Dodgers got as first Sanchez and then Mendoza, who had taken over for Wade at first base in a double switch, popped out.