Mrs. Karie Vartan
Cadet
I love this story!! Please continue!! 
-Karie-
-Karie-
THE RAMBALDI WORLD SERIES
- Thread starter Ophelia
- Start date
Mrs. Karie Vartan
Cadet
*sniff* please
-Karie-
-Karie-
I PM'd a couple of people who were asking when I would post the last chapter of this fic, but I might as well say it here: Things have just been very hectic in my family right now -- nothing bad, just busy -- and I haven't had time to sit down and work out the details of the baseball. I'll do my best to get it done this week; things should be settled down by then. Thanks, everyone, for your support.
The game was scheduled for two in the afternoon, but by noon Jack’s back yard already had the atmosphere of a carnival. His neighbors, their curiosity aroused by a week of witnessing the strange goings-on there, were beginning to filter in and take seats in the small grandstand. Francie had set up a refreshment stand next to it and was selling overpriced hot dogs, peanuts, Cracker Jack, beer, and sodas. She also had another concoction that Josh Gibson, supervising his team’s warm-up routine, had never seen before. It was a paper plate full of strange-looking corn chips covered with melted cheese, seasoned hamburger, and sliced black olives and green peppers.
“What’s this?”
Francie gave him an odd look. “Nachos. Haven’t you ever had nachos before?”
‘No, can’t say that I have.”
“Here, try some. On the house.”
“Hey, these are pretty good. They just might catch on.” Gibson walked away, munching contentedly.
By one, the grandstand was full and it was standing room only. Harry Caray arrived to lead the crowd in singing “Take Me Out to the Ball Game” when it came time for the seventh inning stretch. A crew of genuine major league umpires was on hand to officiate. Rambaldi was wearing his usual attire, but he attracted little notice. Stranger sights that that were seen in Los Angeles every day.
Josh Gibson had turned the CIA players into a respectable team. He taught them hitting, bunting, and fielding techniques; and he even taught Jack a few tricks he had picked up from his friend Satchel Paige. And of course he had plenty to teach Sydney about catching.
Sloane’s team arrived just after one. He had assembled a virtual who’s who of the international criminal underworld: Sloane, Sark, Irina, Geiger, Ariana Kane, Hassan, Hadalki, Khasinau, and Cuvee all emerged from an enormous black RV and began warming up. Irina caught Jack’s eye and blew him a kiss. He just glared at her.
Ty Cobb spotted Gibson and Dixon and rolled his eyes. “Team full of monkeys. This ought to be easy,” he muttered, loudly enough for them to hear.
Dixon started toward him, but Gibson held on to his arm.
“Don’t worry about it. He’ll pay for that, believe me.”
Geiger was pitching for Sloane’s team. As Jack left the mound so that his rival could warm up, Geiger said, “Good to see you again, Jack. No hard feelings, I hope?”
“I’m not strapped down in a chair this time,” Jack growled. “Don’t push it.”
After the National Anthem was sung, the umpires held a coin toss to decide which team would have home field advantage. The Cubs won. As his team took the field, Jack realized with a sinking feeling that Irina was swinging a bat in the on-deck circle. She waved to Jack as she strode toward the batter’s box, grinning broadly and shaking her hips as as she dug in at the plate.
Jack watched this little display impassively from the mound. “You’d better dig deeper.”
“Come on, throw the ball, sweetie. Or are you chicken?”
That was too much for Jack. He threw a pitch high and inside, knocking Irina to the ground.
“A little chin music, Jack?” she said as she got to her feet and dusted herself off.
“I’ll do more than that if you don’t stop crowding the plate,” Jack warned her as the crowd snickered.
Sydney rolled her eyes as she threw the ball back to her father. “Why can’t I have normal parents like everybody else?”
“Ball one,” said the home plate umpire.
Another two pitches that just caught the inside corner of the plate, and Jack was ahead in the count, one ball and two strikes. Another pitch sailed so far outside that Sydney barely caught it.
Settle down, Bristow, Jack told himself. We’re only saving the world here. No big deal.
Another pitch low and away, which Irina swung at much too late, and she was out. She was not in the least abashed. On her way back to the Mets bench, she sauntered up to the mound and said, “Funny thing about baseball – there’s always a next time. See you again soon, Jack.”
Geiger was next. He managed to reach first on an infield hit. Hadalki grounded to shortstop for a double play.
Vaughn, Will, and Dixon went down in order to Geiger’s surprisingly good change-up, and the inning was over.
No one from either team reached base in the second inning. Sydney made things interesting in the third by hitting a double, but there were already two outs, and Jack hit a fly ball to right to end the inning. The next two innings consisted of little more than routine ground balls and fly balls. Marshall proved to be a surprisingly adept center fielder, though he wasn’t much of a hitter.
In the sixth, the Mets finally drew first blood. Ariana Kane reached base on a single and Irina was up to bat again. This time she didn’t ground out as Jack had been able to get her to do in the third. Instead, she hit a home run that sailed into a neighboring yard, scoring two runs. As she touched home plate, she blew him another kiss. “Thanks, sweetie.”
Jack just shook his head and clenched his jaw. That woman is going to be the death of me yet, he thought.
Now it was his turn not to be perturbed, even when he walked Hassan next. There were already two outs, and Sydney caught a pop foul off Cuvee to end the inning.
After the seventh-inning stretch, the Cubs had their revenge. Sydney walked, and Jack hit a double that moved her over to third. Vaughn hit a single that scored them both, though with two outs he was kept from scoring when Weiss struck out.
Jack grimly bore down and allowed only a single and a walk in the eighth and struck out Khasinau and Hadalki to begin the ninth. Sark was supposed to bat next, but he had turned an ankle trying to steal second earlier in the game; and when he tried to stand he suddenly found that he could put no weight on it at all.
Ty Cobb pulled off Sark’s shoe and sock, took one look at the badly swollen ankle, and said, “It’s sprained. I’ll bat.”
When Gibson told Jack of the change, his mouth fell open. “No way am I pitching to Ty Cobb. And I’ll not have my daughter blocking the plate if he manages to get to third and tries to score.”
“Realistically, he’ll probably reach base. If he does, I’ll take over as catcher.” Gibson grinned wickedly. “I almost hope he does get to third. I’d love to take him on.”
Jack shrugged. “Okay. You’re the manager.”
“Cobb really isn’t that much of a power hitter, even if he does have that .367 batting average. So don’t be afraid to throw him the hard stuff. Just keep the ball down, and he won’t be able to do too much damage. You’ll be fine.”
Cobb strode up to the plate, swinging his bat confidently. “Come on, old man -- show me what you got.” Bristow’s pitching was really quite respectable, but nothing a veteran like him couldn’t handle.
Jack showed Cobb a couple of hard, high fastballs – one a ball, one a strike – to brush him back from the plate, then a slider that Cobb swung at too soon. The next two pitches were too far outside, and the count was full. Cobb grinned broadly. Should have intentionally walked me, old man, he thought. Gutsy of you to actually pitch to me; I’ll give you that. He fouled off two more pitches, then hit a low, hard fastball that was too far inside and should have been ball four. It bounced through the infield into shallow left field. Kendall caught it and threw to Dixon at first, but not in time. Dixon had to jump out of the way to avoid Cobb’s spikes as he slid safely into first base.
“Try that again, and they’ll have to carry you off the field,” Dixon growled.
“Yeah, whatever. Putting a uniform on a monkey doesn’t mean he can play. And that’s all you are.”
Dixon’s fists started to clench, but an umpire noticed. “Break it up, you two. And Cobb, you open your mouth again and you’re out of here. Then your team will have to forfeit the game.”
Cobb grumbled to himself, but simmered down.
Sloane next bunted him over to second, and a walk to Cuvee loaded the bases. It was the first time Jack had allowed that in the game. Gibson came out to the plate and said quietly to Sydney, “I’ll take over. You’ve done a fine job, but I’ll deal with this.”
Noticing the looks that Gibson and Cobb were exchanging, Sydney smiled. “Okay. Just don’t let him get past you.”
“Don’t worry, he won’t,” Gibson said grimly. He put on the catcher’s gear and took his position,
“Watch out, monkey, I’m coming through,” Cobb shouted.
"Ready when you are," Gibson replied coolly, not in the least rattled.
Up next, Geiger hit a ground ball toward shallow center field. Cobb came charging in from third. Will caught the ball and rifled it in to Gibson. There was a tremendous collision at the plate, but Gibson still held the ball, and Cobb was out. He started to bluster, but the umpire said, “Don’t even try it. You’re out.”
In the bottom of the ninth, Geiger quickly got two outs. Since Gibson had flipped the batting order, Dixon was next, and hit a resounding triple that nearly turned into an inside the park home run.
Jack was up next. “It’s up to you, Jack,” Gibson told him. “You can do it. You’re one of the few pitchers I’ve ever seen who could swing a decent bat. Just stay back, and make him work to get you out. Open your stance if he tries to pitch you inside. Just put the ball into play.”
Jack settled into the batter’s box and stayed back as Geiger threw two pitches up much too high and too far inside, even though Jack was not crowding the plate as Irina had done in the first inning. He’s just trying to keep me from hitting a ground ball that might get through the infield, Jack thought. The next two pitches were straight down the middle, but again too high for a ground ball. They were just inside the strike zone, however.
“Full count, two out, bottom of the ninth,” Rambaldi, watching from the Cubs bench, exulted. “It doesn’t get any better than this.”
Jack stepped out of the batter’s box to collect himself. I’d almost rather be alone with Geiger in the conversation room, he thought. Gibson started toward him, but Rambaldi put a hand on his shoulder.
“Allow me.”
As he approached Jack, Rambaldi pulled a large brass key out of his tunic. On its handle was a delicate flower design which looked exactly like the flower Jack, Irina, and Sydney had seen in Muzafarabad.
“Remember what is at stake here, Signor Bristow. This key is to a vault in a church in Milan. It will be yours – and, more importantly, your daughter’s – if you do this. And you can. Just do what Signor Gibson told you. Go the distance.”*
Suddenly everything he and Sydney had been through – chasing artifacts all over the world as if on a high-stakes scavenger hunt, walking a tightrope at SD-6 for years, still being forced to deal with people with an obsession he could not understand, even though SD-6 was now gone and Sloane a fugitive without a country – came crashing over Jack like a tidal wave. “You bet.” Grimly he turned away and stalked back to the batter’s box. Go the distance.*
Geiger knew he was in trouble the instant he saw the look in Jack’s eye. His pitch came in low and fast, but as soon as he heard the crack of the bat against the ball, he knew it was gone. It sailed out and hit the back of the house behind Jack’s.
The crowd roared as Dixon jogged in to score, his teammates crowding around him and high-fiving one another.
Rambaldi handed Jack the key as he touched home plate. “Give this to your daughter. Tell her to go to San Paolo’s in Milan. The artifacts are there. Tell her to destroy them. Your team did it.” He smiled mischievously. “Saved the world and played one terrific ball game, too.”
With that, he disappeared. So did the crowd, the baseball field, and all the players.
* * *
Jack woke with a start. It was dawn. He got up; the alarm clock would have gone off in less than half an hour anyway. My God, what a dream, he thought, shaking his head and heading toward the bathroom.
As he passed by his dresser, a metallic gleam caught his eye. He gulped as he saw that it was a large brass key with a delicate flower design on the handle. A slip of paper next to it read, “San Paolo’s in Milan. Grazie, Signor Bristow. Milo Rambaldi.”
__________________________________________
THE END
*The line "Go the distance" is, of course, from the classic baseball film "Field of Dreams."
“What’s this?”
Francie gave him an odd look. “Nachos. Haven’t you ever had nachos before?”
‘No, can’t say that I have.”
“Here, try some. On the house.”
“Hey, these are pretty good. They just might catch on.” Gibson walked away, munching contentedly.
By one, the grandstand was full and it was standing room only. Harry Caray arrived to lead the crowd in singing “Take Me Out to the Ball Game” when it came time for the seventh inning stretch. A crew of genuine major league umpires was on hand to officiate. Rambaldi was wearing his usual attire, but he attracted little notice. Stranger sights that that were seen in Los Angeles every day.
Josh Gibson had turned the CIA players into a respectable team. He taught them hitting, bunting, and fielding techniques; and he even taught Jack a few tricks he had picked up from his friend Satchel Paige. And of course he had plenty to teach Sydney about catching.
Sloane’s team arrived just after one. He had assembled a virtual who’s who of the international criminal underworld: Sloane, Sark, Irina, Geiger, Ariana Kane, Hassan, Hadalki, Khasinau, and Cuvee all emerged from an enormous black RV and began warming up. Irina caught Jack’s eye and blew him a kiss. He just glared at her.
Ty Cobb spotted Gibson and Dixon and rolled his eyes. “Team full of monkeys. This ought to be easy,” he muttered, loudly enough for them to hear.
Dixon started toward him, but Gibson held on to his arm.
“Don’t worry about it. He’ll pay for that, believe me.”
Geiger was pitching for Sloane’s team. As Jack left the mound so that his rival could warm up, Geiger said, “Good to see you again, Jack. No hard feelings, I hope?”
“I’m not strapped down in a chair this time,” Jack growled. “Don’t push it.”
After the National Anthem was sung, the umpires held a coin toss to decide which team would have home field advantage. The Cubs won. As his team took the field, Jack realized with a sinking feeling that Irina was swinging a bat in the on-deck circle. She waved to Jack as she strode toward the batter’s box, grinning broadly and shaking her hips as as she dug in at the plate.
Jack watched this little display impassively from the mound. “You’d better dig deeper.”
“Come on, throw the ball, sweetie. Or are you chicken?”
That was too much for Jack. He threw a pitch high and inside, knocking Irina to the ground.
“A little chin music, Jack?” she said as she got to her feet and dusted herself off.
“I’ll do more than that if you don’t stop crowding the plate,” Jack warned her as the crowd snickered.
Sydney rolled her eyes as she threw the ball back to her father. “Why can’t I have normal parents like everybody else?”
“Ball one,” said the home plate umpire.
Another two pitches that just caught the inside corner of the plate, and Jack was ahead in the count, one ball and two strikes. Another pitch sailed so far outside that Sydney barely caught it.
Settle down, Bristow, Jack told himself. We’re only saving the world here. No big deal.
Another pitch low and away, which Irina swung at much too late, and she was out. She was not in the least abashed. On her way back to the Mets bench, she sauntered up to the mound and said, “Funny thing about baseball – there’s always a next time. See you again soon, Jack.”
Geiger was next. He managed to reach first on an infield hit. Hadalki grounded to shortstop for a double play.
Vaughn, Will, and Dixon went down in order to Geiger’s surprisingly good change-up, and the inning was over.
No one from either team reached base in the second inning. Sydney made things interesting in the third by hitting a double, but there were already two outs, and Jack hit a fly ball to right to end the inning. The next two innings consisted of little more than routine ground balls and fly balls. Marshall proved to be a surprisingly adept center fielder, though he wasn’t much of a hitter.
In the sixth, the Mets finally drew first blood. Ariana Kane reached base on a single and Irina was up to bat again. This time she didn’t ground out as Jack had been able to get her to do in the third. Instead, she hit a home run that sailed into a neighboring yard, scoring two runs. As she touched home plate, she blew him another kiss. “Thanks, sweetie.”
Jack just shook his head and clenched his jaw. That woman is going to be the death of me yet, he thought.
Now it was his turn not to be perturbed, even when he walked Hassan next. There were already two outs, and Sydney caught a pop foul off Cuvee to end the inning.
After the seventh-inning stretch, the Cubs had their revenge. Sydney walked, and Jack hit a double that moved her over to third. Vaughn hit a single that scored them both, though with two outs he was kept from scoring when Weiss struck out.
Jack grimly bore down and allowed only a single and a walk in the eighth and struck out Khasinau and Hadalki to begin the ninth. Sark was supposed to bat next, but he had turned an ankle trying to steal second earlier in the game; and when he tried to stand he suddenly found that he could put no weight on it at all.
Ty Cobb pulled off Sark’s shoe and sock, took one look at the badly swollen ankle, and said, “It’s sprained. I’ll bat.”
When Gibson told Jack of the change, his mouth fell open. “No way am I pitching to Ty Cobb. And I’ll not have my daughter blocking the plate if he manages to get to third and tries to score.”
“Realistically, he’ll probably reach base. If he does, I’ll take over as catcher.” Gibson grinned wickedly. “I almost hope he does get to third. I’d love to take him on.”
Jack shrugged. “Okay. You’re the manager.”
“Cobb really isn’t that much of a power hitter, even if he does have that .367 batting average. So don’t be afraid to throw him the hard stuff. Just keep the ball down, and he won’t be able to do too much damage. You’ll be fine.”
Cobb strode up to the plate, swinging his bat confidently. “Come on, old man -- show me what you got.” Bristow’s pitching was really quite respectable, but nothing a veteran like him couldn’t handle.
Jack showed Cobb a couple of hard, high fastballs – one a ball, one a strike – to brush him back from the plate, then a slider that Cobb swung at too soon. The next two pitches were too far outside, and the count was full. Cobb grinned broadly. Should have intentionally walked me, old man, he thought. Gutsy of you to actually pitch to me; I’ll give you that. He fouled off two more pitches, then hit a low, hard fastball that was too far inside and should have been ball four. It bounced through the infield into shallow left field. Kendall caught it and threw to Dixon at first, but not in time. Dixon had to jump out of the way to avoid Cobb’s spikes as he slid safely into first base.
“Try that again, and they’ll have to carry you off the field,” Dixon growled.
“Yeah, whatever. Putting a uniform on a monkey doesn’t mean he can play. And that’s all you are.”
Dixon’s fists started to clench, but an umpire noticed. “Break it up, you two. And Cobb, you open your mouth again and you’re out of here. Then your team will have to forfeit the game.”
Cobb grumbled to himself, but simmered down.
Sloane next bunted him over to second, and a walk to Cuvee loaded the bases. It was the first time Jack had allowed that in the game. Gibson came out to the plate and said quietly to Sydney, “I’ll take over. You’ve done a fine job, but I’ll deal with this.”
Noticing the looks that Gibson and Cobb were exchanging, Sydney smiled. “Okay. Just don’t let him get past you.”
“Don’t worry, he won’t,” Gibson said grimly. He put on the catcher’s gear and took his position,
“Watch out, monkey, I’m coming through,” Cobb shouted.
"Ready when you are," Gibson replied coolly, not in the least rattled.
Up next, Geiger hit a ground ball toward shallow center field. Cobb came charging in from third. Will caught the ball and rifled it in to Gibson. There was a tremendous collision at the plate, but Gibson still held the ball, and Cobb was out. He started to bluster, but the umpire said, “Don’t even try it. You’re out.”
In the bottom of the ninth, Geiger quickly got two outs. Since Gibson had flipped the batting order, Dixon was next, and hit a resounding triple that nearly turned into an inside the park home run.
Jack was up next. “It’s up to you, Jack,” Gibson told him. “You can do it. You’re one of the few pitchers I’ve ever seen who could swing a decent bat. Just stay back, and make him work to get you out. Open your stance if he tries to pitch you inside. Just put the ball into play.”
Jack settled into the batter’s box and stayed back as Geiger threw two pitches up much too high and too far inside, even though Jack was not crowding the plate as Irina had done in the first inning. He’s just trying to keep me from hitting a ground ball that might get through the infield, Jack thought. The next two pitches were straight down the middle, but again too high for a ground ball. They were just inside the strike zone, however.
“Full count, two out, bottom of the ninth,” Rambaldi, watching from the Cubs bench, exulted. “It doesn’t get any better than this.”
Jack stepped out of the batter’s box to collect himself. I’d almost rather be alone with Geiger in the conversation room, he thought. Gibson started toward him, but Rambaldi put a hand on his shoulder.
“Allow me.”
As he approached Jack, Rambaldi pulled a large brass key out of his tunic. On its handle was a delicate flower design which looked exactly like the flower Jack, Irina, and Sydney had seen in Muzafarabad.
“Remember what is at stake here, Signor Bristow. This key is to a vault in a church in Milan. It will be yours – and, more importantly, your daughter’s – if you do this. And you can. Just do what Signor Gibson told you. Go the distance.”*
Suddenly everything he and Sydney had been through – chasing artifacts all over the world as if on a high-stakes scavenger hunt, walking a tightrope at SD-6 for years, still being forced to deal with people with an obsession he could not understand, even though SD-6 was now gone and Sloane a fugitive without a country – came crashing over Jack like a tidal wave. “You bet.” Grimly he turned away and stalked back to the batter’s box. Go the distance.*
Geiger knew he was in trouble the instant he saw the look in Jack’s eye. His pitch came in low and fast, but as soon as he heard the crack of the bat against the ball, he knew it was gone. It sailed out and hit the back of the house behind Jack’s.
The crowd roared as Dixon jogged in to score, his teammates crowding around him and high-fiving one another.
Rambaldi handed Jack the key as he touched home plate. “Give this to your daughter. Tell her to go to San Paolo’s in Milan. The artifacts are there. Tell her to destroy them. Your team did it.” He smiled mischievously. “Saved the world and played one terrific ball game, too.”
With that, he disappeared. So did the crowd, the baseball field, and all the players.
* * *
Jack woke with a start. It was dawn. He got up; the alarm clock would have gone off in less than half an hour anyway. My God, what a dream, he thought, shaking his head and heading toward the bathroom.
As he passed by his dresser, a metallic gleam caught his eye. He gulped as he saw that it was a large brass key with a delicate flower design on the handle. A slip of paper next to it read, “San Paolo’s in Milan. Grazie, Signor Bristow. Milo Rambaldi.”
__________________________________________
THE END
*The line "Go the distance" is, of course, from the classic baseball film "Field of Dreams."
IrinaDerevko
Cadet
Good job!
fledermaus
Cadet
random comment: alias elle, are you staging a hostile takeover of the fanfiction forum?
Scarlet Crystal
Bibbity Rabbity
good no crisisOphelia said:
fledermaus
Cadet
and, good story. it's much to your credit that you actually finished your story unlike some of us (*cough*, me) ^_^ i liked it!