That is until Woo, who’s up next, strikes out.
We have one out to break the tie, and then it’s their game to lose.
Madison’s up next, and he gets on base. “We Will Rock You” blasts over the speakers, and I almost wish they would turn it off because I want the players to focus and win this thing.
Next up, Robinson, who is not known for his batting.
Emily erupts in uncharacteristic rage. “Are you kidding me? No pinch hitter?”
The woman behind her spits on the ground. “MORON BITCH,” she screams at, presumably, the coach.
Robinson hits a foul immediately.
Every part of me that can clench clenches.
Robinson hits another miserable foul.
I unclench, because I can see where this is going. And it’s not to the World Series.
The Cubs pitcher lines up. Time slows. And then, the most beautiful sound rips through the stadium.
The crack of the bat.
I strain to see against the floodlights as the ball listsjust insidethe foul pole and into the stands.
It’s a home run. Lanzinella rounds the bases with Robinson right behind him. Damn if we are not up by two going into the top of the ninth.
I hug Emily and Gloria, screaming.
When we are done jumping up and down, I take out my phone and text Seth:
Molly:Bad night to have to hang out with a professional cub
Seth:Nope. We got this.
They do not got this.
They lose.
The stadium basically levitates. People are dancing in the aisles, hugging each other, throwing popcorn in the air. The sky lights up with the silver whorls and golden spiders of fireworks, and we all stop and gasp.
In the distance, you can see smaller, amateur fireworks going off—reds and greens and golds crackling like thunder, echoing off the mountains.
“God, it’s so beautiful,” I say to no one in particular.
My phone buzzes.
Seth:You were right about fireworks in LA. Magical.
I smile down at my screen.
“Shall we go celebrate at Izzie’s?” Gloria asks.
“Definitely,” I say. Izzie’s is a cute little bar right down the hill from the stadium in Echo Park. It’s close enough to walk to, and it’s our tradition to go there for cocktails after a game.
We slowly make our way behind the crowd seeping out of the stadium and into the parking lot. People are tailgating, dancing. The sky is still booming with fireworks. The air smells like sausage and peppers from the guys barbecuing on the sidewalk, selling hot dogs and cold beer to fans walking home.
I wonder if Seth is taking this in, the enchantment of my city on this warm fall night.
