Mexican WhiteBoy: List 3

Danny blows away whoever he’s facing with almost exclusively fastballs.

Now I slow down, make decisions based on well-thought-out justifications.

No matter how your heart is for people, you still gotta apprehend somebody tryin’ to climb in your damn bathroom window.

Behind every act, good or bad, there’s a reason. People don’t just go out and do things by unfounded chance.

Danny nodded again, but Uno could see there was still a disconnect.

Carmelo turns to the rest of his teammates, pleads for financial backing. Two guys hesitantly hold out tens.

His teammates slink back toward the dugout to watch.

“Listen,” he says, “there’s gonna be a little friction after you strike ’im out this time.”

He swings a vicious right and hits him on the side of the face, sends him sprawling onto the ground.

Graffiti decorates the street-side windows of every taqueria, every Mexican bodega and barbershop.

He watches Flaca, on a dare from Raul, saunter over to Raquel, take her face in her hands and kiss her while all the guys cheer and the girls laugh.

They continue to stare at each other, both slowly realizing the situation. Their respective shortcomings.

They continue to stare at each other, both slowly realizing the situation. Their respective shortcomings.

He wishes he could speak her language, and she probably wishes she could speak his language. A word he learned in school comes to mind: irony. This is what his teacher meant when she’d talk about that word. Liberty’s come to National City to be more American. And he’s come to be more Mexican.

“Look at you, cuz. You can’t even admit it. Gettin’ all flustered.”

Danny can hear her blowing her nose. Then she says in a more composed voice: “This apartment’s just so big, Danny..."

Uno looks around the ghetto Las Palmas field. At the run-down dugouts, the brown grass, the weed-infested mound. The epitome of National City, he thinks.

Inside, they race up several flights of stairs and emerge from the concourse.

Their mouths drop at the sight of the pristine baseball diamond. The manicured grass and sculpted infield.

They ride the elevator back down and walk around the entire food loop, checking out the vast concession options.

They sneak past a pair of gray-haired ushers and make their way right down to the home dugout, where they hang their faces over the railing to get a glimpse of their favorite players.

He shakes his head, stares down at the black-and-white checkered tiles, sighs.

The quaint motels and record shops and sleepy beachside parks.

After a few minutes, Coach Sullivan blows his whistle, signifying the end of practice.

Kyle takes his first rip of the afternoon. He swings with malicious intent, but a little too early—drives a laser into foul territory on the third-base side. The batted ball sends Kyle’s teammates scattering out of the way, ducking for cover, as it smashes off the face of the home dugout and skips into left field.

Kyle takes another ferocious swing and...misses. The follow-through of his fruitless rip corkscrews him into the ground and he barely catches himself with his right hand before falling on his butt.

He winds up, delivers a fastball that burrows through the strike zone like a groundhog, a curve that starts at Kyle’s face and ends near his ankles, a slider that zips in on fingers, a change that fizzles like flat soda, a knuckle that dances across stage like a pantomime...

...even though every one of these pitches upsets Kyle’s balance, wobbles Kyle’s knees, tricks Kyle’s mind and challenges his faith; even though with each passing pitch the guys against the dugout cheer louder while at the same time wear expressions that betray a growing doubt, a dwindling belief; in spite of Danny’s very best stuff, Kyle somehow manages to stay alive...

Danny steps off the mound as they continue to yell at each other. He walks toward the commotion without thinking. Watches Barker spit in the direction of Uno and shout a couple more slurs.

The plant is ugly, a giant eyesore in the middle of the city, but it’s beautiful, too. It’s a part of the landscape, and he feels lucky to be awake to see it like this.