Pitch Please (There's No Crying in Baseball 1)

“Crowding the plate again,” Gentry murmured. “Shit, did you see the look he just gave that pitcher? How is he not shitting his pants right now?”

“Maybe he did. I would have,” Rhys, the third baseman, pointed out.

Chuckles filled the air, and then all breath left every single man’s body in the dugout…hell, in the entire freakin’ stadium.

The ball left the pitcher’s grip, and I knew it was going to hit him. I was so certain that I was already up and moving out of the dugout before Hancock had even finished falling to the ground.

Taking a pitch to the throat was going to hurt on the best of days. Taking a ninety-eight mile an hour fastball to the throat was a completely different story.

I hit my knees beside Hancock’s gasping form and carefully rolled him over to his back.

His hands were on his throat as he struggled to breathe, and I latched onto his face with one hand as I tugged my bag closer with the other.

I yanked out my portable oxygen tank, and immediately strapped it onto his face as I looked into Hancock’s tear-filled eyes.

The big man was looking at me with so much fear that it was hard to keep calm and not whisper that it would be okay.

A paramedic dropped down next to me.

“He was struck in the neck with the ball,” I told him.

I wasn’t a medic.

Hell, I wasn’t the type of medical professional that Hancock needed at this point, but I couldn’t force myself away.

Even if I could have, I wouldn’t have been able to leave. Hancock’s grip on my thigh was to the point of pain he was holding on so tightly.

“He needs to go to the hospital,” the medic murmured. “Where’s the… ahh, there it is.”

I turned to see the gurney on the way toward us, and I turned back to Hancock whose eyes hadn’t left mine.

“They’re going to take you to the hospital,” I told him. “You need to go with them and not give them any lip.”

I started to back away to give the other medics room, but he snatched my hand in a move of desperation that pleaded with me to stay.

“His breathing’s better, but his O2 sats are still low,” the medic murmured.

“He’s sick,” I informed them. “He had a fever and started coughing about thirty-six hours ago.”

The medic nodded.

“Let’s hope that’s the reason for the low sats then,” he murmured. “You going with us?”

I stood up as the gurney slid into the space beside Hancock.

His breathing was still rough and choppy, and I knew it pained him to breathe.

The ball had glanced off the front of his throat, luckily only grazing off of him when he lifted his shoulder at the last moment.

But the hit was enough to make his throat begin to swell.

Hits to the neck are always serious injuries and can even be fatal sometimes. If there was damage to his airway—like we suspected there may be—or the injury was to the back of the neck, affecting the brain stem, then it could be really dangerous.

“I’m going,” I nodded.

Turning I found my assistant standing behind me.

“Can you take over here?” I asked her.

She nodded quickly. “I have the others, too.”

She gestured to the other trainers who’d stayed away to let the medics do their job.

“Good,” I nodded. “Call me if you need me.”

She nodded quickly again, and I turned to start walking with the medics.

Which turned into a run when Hancock’s O2 sats fell even lower.

His eyes, though, before he passed out…they would haunt me for the rest of my life.

***

I crossed my arms as I waited in the ER waiting room.

We’d been separated for over an hour, and I was getting antsy.

The waiting room had filled so full that I was actually now in the hallway leading into it.

There were people crowding the halls who were fans, and there were even more fans outside!

Seriously…it would’ve never occurred to me to come to see a man—baseball player or not—if I didn’t know him personally.

“Any news?” Uncle Siggy asked as he walked up to me, looking so tired he could barely stand.

I shook my head. “Nothing.”

“You think he’s going to be okay?” He took up position against the wall next to me to wait.

“Yes.” I knew he’d be ‘okay.’ Whether ‘okay’ meant he could play baseball again was another thing. “He turned blue in the ambulance, and they almost had to trach him.”

Siggy’s mouth went tight.

“They gave him some kind of anti-inflammatory med and were able to obtain a clear airway about thirty seconds after that,” I continued. “I’m not sure what that means for now, though.”

“Sway Cooper?” a nurse called.

My body jolted, and I immediately started walking over to the woman.

“I’m Sway,” I told her eagerly. “Is he okay?”

The nurse smiled. Well, I was sure she’d intended it as a smile, but it came out more like a grimace.