The Gravity of the Game Read online

  “Yes, we do, but not right away. Whatever we say needs to be measured. We know full well that Yonder is bluffing. Even if he purchases the real estate, we can enact sanctions that would never allow him to open a ballpark.”

  “Have you talked to Mexico City’s ownership group yet? Who’s representing them these days?” Jared asked.

  “Guierlmo Rodriguez. He invested along with a few members of his hedge fund a few years back—usually is caught up in his primary business so he doesn’t appear much at meetings,” Hideki said. He moved to the other side of his desk and leaned back in his rolling chair, designed to be much more comfortable than his guest chairs, thankfully. “I haven’t received a call from him yet, though I imagine I will soon.”

  “What about his call for resignation? Can he do anything to you?”

  “There are bylaws in the charter that allow for a vote of no confidence in between election cycles. He’d have to get a two-thirds vote from the league’s owners. That’s a lot of politicking.”

  Jared picked up a baseball from a display on a shelf, his face grave as he adjusted his grip on the seams. “Yonder’s rash, but he’s not stupid. If he’s holding a press conference, he’s already been lobbying behind the scenes.”

  Hideki swiveled to the left on his chair. “And we’ve been spending our time gallivanting on the moon.”

  “Don’t talk like that. That’s Yonder’s language, not yours. We thought we would truly help baseball. It didn’t work—so what? Expansion had to be tried.”

  The items Jared fidgeted with dated back to two hundred years of baseball history. Those years accounted for expansion of the game, which led to a true world league, something that transcended borders, cultures. Would his tenure be the turning point where it began to unravel?

  Another knock came to his door, and Hideki swung back toward Jared to see who wanted in. Jose stood there, waving frantically.

  “Come in,” Hideki said, motioning.

  Cespedes rushed through the door, closing it behind him. “You’ve heard, I take.”

  Hideki nodded. “We were discussing the repercussions.”

  “I just got off the phone with Guierlmo Rodriguez. He’s threatening to leave and start his own league if we allow Yonder’s threat to go through.”

  “What a drama-monger,” Jared said, rolling his eyes.

  “These are just emotional overreactions in the heat of the moment. Don’t worry. We won’t allow this to happen without repercussion. Guierlmo will back us in the end,” Hideki said, though he didn’t hold nearly the amount of confidence with which he said those words.

  Cespedes nodded, but his silence stated that he wasn’t so sure.

  Hideki glanced back over to his memorabilia shelf. A frown crossed his face, his brow furrowed. He could feel the wrinkles that had only appeared this last decade. This game made the people who worked for it age so quickly.

  Silence fell upon the room. Jared shifted and Jose cleared his throat. Hovercar traffic combined with the air conditioning of the room provided a distracting white noise.

  “So what’s the plan?” Jared asked.

  “The plan…” Hideki said the words slowly. He didn’t have one. That was the inherent problem. He couldn’t act in haste, but not acting at all would be even worse. He stood and leaned over his desk, exchanging gazes with his two right-hand men. They’d stayed with him for years, and they required leadership. “The plan is to do what we always do, gentlemen.”

  “What’s that?” Jared asked, cocking a brow skyward.

  “Go to a baseball game.”

  Mexico City’s airport had a landing area larger than most. It not only accommodated international traffic to a metropolitan area with one of the five largest populations in the world, but due to its proximity to the equator, it also contained one of the largest spaceports on the planet. Dozens of horizontal stripes appeared below as Hideki’s plane landed, with a turn lane that went below ground so as to not interfere with any other oncoming traffic. It looked like an ancient-style picket fence, with landing-lights.

  Hideki stepped into the terminal wearing his black suit—attire far too warm for Mexico’s summer climate, but he needed to maintain his air of business. Even with the formal wear, he removed his Los Verde Sox cap from his carry bag, and then secured it on his head.

  Mexico City’s team name had a long history. Of course there were separate Mexican leagues for a long time, but when the WBL was founded, the team ownership wanted a name that matched the classic names of the original American baseball. Since there were already both red and white versions of the Sox, taking the green color seemed a natural choice to complete Mexico’s flag. They kept the word “Sox” as a tribute to the original game, but went with the Spanish word for the color to distinguish themselves.

  Hideki always liked the name, as well as their forest-green colors. Susan said the hat looked good with his complexion, something he didn’t see but he trusted her on. He ran his fingers around the solid brim as he glanced around the busy airport.

  Where he expected to be greeted with a driver, Guierlmo Rodriguez, owner of Los Verde Sox, graced him with his personal presence. He held no sign with Hideki’s name on it, but inclined his head ever so slightly.

  “Guierlmo,” Hideki said, moving to shake his hand.

  “Commissioner,” Guierlmo said, and took Hideki’s hand with a hard shake. “I’m surprised you decided to visit our facilities, today of all days.”

  “I figured this would be as good a time as any to catch a game in Mexico City this season, and to chat about current events. Thank you for taking the time to pick me up yourself. I expected a shuttle.”

  “Sometimes I like to take my own cars to clear my head, especially when it’s been aching. And I have a Yonder Cabrera-sized headache right about now.”

  “Perhaps we should put our heads together to clear it?”

  Guierlmo motioned to his right, leading toward the exit and baggage claim. “We’ll talk about it at the game.”

  The owner’s box at Los Verde Sox’s stadium in Mexico City spared no expense when it came to luxury. The vast dome over the field and seats kept the hot, summer air at bay, which allowed for the box to be open to the field and take on the roaring sounds of the crowd.

  Forty people gathered in the owner’s suite, where some sat with virtual reality equipment, allowing for fans to see what it was like from individual players’ perspectives, brought to them by embedded micro-cameras and sensors in the players’ uniforms. Others huddled around the open bar. Hideki stared out at the field, watching intently as the Los Verde Sox warmed up prior to first pitch.

  Guierlmo Rodriguez approached Hideki, holding a glass of expensive sipping tequila in one hand. “You’ve always paid far more attention to the games than most of us. I find that admirable that you truly care.”

  “I love baseball,” Hideki said, not taking his eyes off the field. The pitcher below unleashed a fastball to start the game for a strike.

  “Indeed.” Rodriguez took a small sip from his drink. “It’s a nice gesture that you publically came to one of our games after the announcement.”

  “Jose Cespedes told me that you threatened to leave the league if we allow this construction to go through.” On the second pitch, the batter made contact, but the ground ball rolled directly to the shortstop. The batter tried to run out the throw, but was unsuccessful.

  “Mm, Jose may have exaggerated un poquito, but Mexico City cannot allow Toluca to take the Santiago Tianguistenco market.” He stepped toward the window in front of them and motioned to the crowd. “Half these people here would no longer be at our games. And the corporate sponsorships…”

  The corporate sponsorships were the true heart of the matter. They contributed far more to the team and stadium than did fan tickets. “I understand. The league doesn’t want that as a solution either. Toluca does need to build a new stadium, though.”

  “So help them build a new stadium. In Toluca.”

&
nbsp; “It’s not that simple, Guierlmo,” Hideki said, turning to the man as the crowd cheered. Another out obtained for the home team’s defense.

  “I’ve heard all the arguments, but you know where I stand. If this doesn’t get resolved, I do know enough of the other owners would follow my lead to where we could form our own league.”

  “Where would that get you? You’d lose even more sponsorships if you weren’t part of the WBL.”

  “You underestimate how much the WBL needs the Mexico National League and the percentages of our revenues. Give Toluca some financial incentive.”“I’m not sure I have the political capital within the league to do that. And it’d start a spiral with everyone wanting funding for their own stadiums.”

  Guierlmo Rodriguez inclined his head. His eyes were cold and calculating, all business, as they pierced through Hideki. “I can help you with capital. And that goes for your retaining your commissionership as well.”

  And what else would you demand from me? Hideki thought. He nodded in response all the same. “A gracious offer.”

  “Of course, as I said, I find it admirable how much you love baseball. It could come in useful down the line when we need help, eh? I should entertain my other guests, however. Think on it.”

  Guilermo Rodriguez turned, heading back to the bar with his half-drank cocktail. Hideki stood alone, and watched the game to see Mexico City leaving the field after their final out.

  Upon his return to the security line at the airport, Hideki received a call. “Dr. Joshua Gray,” said the computerized voice in his earpiece.

  “Accept call,” Hideki said. He set his briefcase down at his feet and motioned for other passengers to go in front of him.

  “Hideki?” Dr. Gray’s voice reverberated in his earpiece.

  “I’m about to go through security at the airport. Can I give you a call in a little bit?”

  “I’m not sure you’ll want to wait on this, Hideki. You should come to the university. I have something amazing for you to see.”

  “I have to get back to the office. I’m not sure if you’ve seen the news, but the league’s got some intense issues going on right now.”

  “You’re in Mexico, right? That’s not a long flight to Michigan. Trust me. Change your flight.”

  Hideki glanced up at the departure schedule on the wall across from him. Transcontinental Air had a flight a few minutes from his currently scheduled one to Hong Kong. “All right, let me talk to Susan. I really don’t have the time, but I trust you.”

  “You won’t regret it.”

  “This is it,” Dr. Joshua Gray said to Hideki, pride radiating from his face—though it may have also been due to the glow of the lights on the six-inch metallic pad in front of them. Dozens of colored wires protruded from the pad, connected to various monitoring systems in the University of Michigan Physics Lab, along with a back-up power generator.

  “This is what?” Hideki asked. His curiosity got the better of him, even though Dr. Gray played coy as to the reason for his visit. The physicist’s grin itself was enough to tell Hideki this little pad was important.

  “Put your hand over the pad,” Dr. Gray said in response.

  Hideki looked at him tentatively.

  “It won’t hurt you, I promise. Go ahead.” Dr. Gray motioned for him to do so.

  Hideki placed his hand just above the pad. Warmth radiated from the current that had been flowing through it in prior tests. For a moment, nothing happened. Dr. Gray tapped a command into one of his monitoring devices. A generator nearby made a ghh-chk sound as it engaged. One of the wires connected to the pad sparked.

  With sudden force, Hideki’s hand slammed down against the pad, despite his best efforts to hold it up. Something from the pad drew his hand to it like a magnet. He could feel the pull all the way up his arm and had to use the full force of his body’s weight to pull his hand away from the device. “What on Earth?”

  “Not on Earth. What you’re experiencing is gravity slightly higher than that of Neptune, twelve meters per second squared, to be precise,” Dr. Gray said. “Isn’t that astounding?”

  “This is a very interesting invention, Dr. Gray. I’m not sure why I’d be involved, however.”

  The device powered down, and Dr. Gray moved over to one of the monitors, checking statistics on the screen. “Why are you involved? This is the solution to your plans.” He turned around to face him. “Your problems stem from the fact that the decreased gravity on the moon – or other places outside of Earth’s atmosphere — pose irreconcilable problems when coupled with the movement characteristics of the baseball. So if you can’t change baseball…”

  Hideki’s eyes widened. “You change the gravity,” he said. “I follow now. This has repercussions far beyond baseball. It means Lunar citizens can grow up with the same gravity as Earth, that people born there will be able to travel between the two worlds without any adverse health consequences. You need to bring this to the government, or a big tech corporation, not me!”

  Dr. Gray shook his head. “Think about how to make a real impact. Both large corporations and the government require working models before they come on board. Sure, we’ll be able to raise some capital, but baseball, if you’ve followed it historically, has a profound influence on cultural change. Do you think we would have a world government if you hadn’t paved the way with a world league? Or look at racial equality back in the misinformation age; baseball led culture. Even our language is littered with metaphors and idioms that stem from baseball’s early era. You might say baseball hit it out of the park.”

  Hideki listened. It was clear that Dr. Gray had considered these matters at length. The purported social progress of baseball flattered him, but none of those had come about due to Hideki’s work. “I see. I’m honored that you would wish to give me the first proverbial at bat with this invention. Wait, you said ‘we’ll’ be able to raise capital?”

  “That’s right,” Dr. Gray said with a nod. “I’ll be reaching out to venture capitalists and to the World Baseball League. Our goal will be a baseball field on the moon. I’ve got some contacts with EdgyCola. Believe it or not, an intersolar soft drink company has uses for a physicist. We can probably get the real estate from them. Let’s not forget that through the league you’ve got access to some of the world’s wealthiest people.”

  Hideki sighed, eyes darting to the side. Dr. Gray didn’t know about his struggles, and potential ousting. “Well, about that…”

  On the flight back to Hong Kong, Hideki thought more about that little pad. They would need about three acres’ worth of land to make a proper sized field. That alone would cost four hundred million yuan, even at Luna City where real estate had significantly less value than Earthside. Though a large number, it was doable. The big variable would be Dr. Gray’s device. The physicist assured him that the materials were of little consequence. The main expense would be the materials for a conductor strong and safe enough to power the field. The rest of the pad could be devised from common metals. Even those still had a more significant cost associated with them than Dr. Gray let on.

  Then there was the matter of power itself. Dr. Gray had needed a generator even to run that small device. Spread that out over three acres and one would need their own power plant. How would he handle that?

  He shook his head. This idea could be a pipe dream. The expenses of constructing a stadium may be an uphill battle with the league owners, but with this added cost of an untested device on such a large scale, it would be hopeless. And the last thing he needed was to pick another fight while having to deal with the coup that Yonder Cabrera was trying to enact. No, he had to tackle these battles one at a time. A multi-front war against the ownership would end in disaster.

  He reclined in his chair and drifted to sleep.

  Two weeks later, Hideki flew to Chicago, where he went to the classic Wrigley Field, one of the few ballparks that remained intact from the first century of baseball’s existence. The park had a sparse crowd for th
e day, but the beams, the seats, and especially the ivy covered wall created an atmosphere of greatness.

  That weight carried further as Hideki made his way out of the dugout. He stepped to the plate, bat in hand. The smell of grass and fresh chalk lines sent a small shiver through him, reminding him of his own glory days. He dug his cleats into the fine dirt of the batter’s box. Nothing could ever compare with the experience of playing baseball.

  This game had the bases moved in much closer than regulation, along with a pony wall set about a third of the way into the outfield to give the players a sporting chance at hitting one out. Eight other old timers stood opposite him, watching his every move, including Jared Stewart, who stood on the mound, hunched over with eyes narrowed as if this were one of his many World Series appearances.

  Jared delivered an underhanded pitch of the oversized ball with the velocity and movement that Hideki expected. Even in his old age, there was no telling whether it would be something that would die out of the zone or hover right over the plate. Hideki, in that split second, made a decision to swing low, mentally splitting the difference in the trajectories of Jared’s famous pitches.

  Crack.

  His bat connected. He kept his head low, not sparing a glance to see where the ball flew. One thing was on his mind: run. Hideki hustled toward first base. Only then did he see the left fielder tracking back to the barrier in the outfield grass.

  The ball flew right over the outfielder’s head, over the wall, and rolled to the ballpark’s actual warning track. A home run.

  The sparse crowd cheered.

  Hideki slowed his pace to a jog, not having to exert himself for extra bases anymore. He would claim all the bases, and that brought a wide smile to his face.

  “Check his bat for cork!” Jared teased from the mound, shaking his head.