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Then we were off to Fort Lauderdale to face the Yankees. The Yankees were in first in our division, 6.5 games ahead of us.
I had the opener. A road game.
So far, in Florida, I was 0-2 with a 6.75 ERA on the road.
I would be facing the second best offense in the Florida State League.
It was a warm 85 degree day and the stands were filled with half dressed young women and some older men. Was the comical observation for sure.
Ugh. And Cheryl was in the bleachers as well. Lovely.
It is less than a half hour drive from Miami to Fort Lauderdale. In fact, the drive is so short that I would be going back to Miami after the game.
The first inning went by quick. Seven pitches. Three outs.
John Westmoreland was my catcher again.
The lead off batter in the bottom of the second walked after an eighth pitch battle. He didn't bite on a fastball inside. A strikeout and groundout followed but then I lost an eleven pitch battle and gave up another walk. The next popped out so the walks didn't hurt.
But I threw 26 pitches that innning.
And I was going to have my work cut out for me to match their pitcher. We went three straight innnings without getting anyone on base.
The Yankees went down in order in the third as I only needed eleven pitches to take care of business.
They got a scratch hit to lead off the fourth but Westmoreland threw him out on an attempted steal of second.
Then in the fifth, the Yankees Kevin Trudeau struck out the side and was still pitching a perfect game.
In the bottom of the sixth, the Yankees second hit of the game was just like their first. Eliminated by Westmoreland on an attempted steal of second.
I was pitching the game of my life!
And their pitcher was even better.
We still had yet to get anyone on base.
It was nothing to nothing after six innnings.
Trudeau was perfect after seven.
I was hanging in there with him.
Still zero to zero.
Then, with two out in the top of the eighth, everything changed. Westmoreland took the very first pitch, a fastball in the upper middle of the strike zone, 345 feet and the perfect game was not just gone but we were ahead 1-0.
Now the pressure was on me to hold the lead.
The Yankees got a two out single in the bottom of the eighth but a popout sent us to the ninth still up 1-0.
They were going to let me finish the game.
I needed just three more outs for my best win ever.
The Yankees, though, had their three four five hitters coming up.
A lead off single of the infield hit variety. Just their fourth hit of the game. But now the tying run was on base.
Then a seven pitch walk to the next batter.
The next hittee grounded to second but beat out the double play.
Runners at the corners. One out.
I was at 129 pitches.
Another ground ball.
Again only one out.
And the score was tied.
The ninth innning ended with Westmoreland throwing out another runner trying to steal second.
I would not go back out for the tenth innning.
John Githens would pitch the tenth and give up the winning run on a wild pitch.
We dressed slowly and quietly.
And then filed out into the night.
I felt a hand on my arm.
Cheryl.
"I'm sorry," she said simply.
I think she actually meant it too.
I gave her a small smile and ruffled her hair.
"Thanks."
And headed home.
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