Hamilton: Hopping on jet to Cincinnati
Me: Fly safe
Me: call if U get a chance
Hamilton: We’re attending Homerun Derby
Hamilton: U should watch
Me: Always do
Hamilton: Gotta go
I read into each text. He’s as excited as a little boy. It’s got to be pretty exciting for him to watch his friends in the Homerun Derby then play in the All-Star Game. I wish I were there with him instead of working on my two papers tonight and studying tomorrow.
McGee whines tapping my arm with his paw as he lays on the floor alongside me. He’s pouting that we won’t let him into the backyard while it’s raining. Poor puppy. It was too hot to walk earlier and now it’s raining. I stop typing my paper to pet him. Alma invites him over to the sofa for loves—she claims I need to focus on my paper and not McGee. I’m almost done with my second draft of my second paper. She’s right, if I focus I can take a break when the derby begins.
My fingertips continue to click clack away for twenty minutes more. I close my laptop with a flourish announcing I am done for the night. Alma carries in our snacks for the evening and we find a comfortable seat in time for the broadcast to begin.
The announcers welcome us to the All-Star festivities then introduce the finalists for tonight’s competition. Liberty fusses loudly for a moment, then the sounds of her soiling her diaper fill the room. Leave it to my daughter to expertly choose a quiet transition to commercial to make such unladylike noises. McGee darts to the backdoor and Alma follows to let him out for only a minute. I wish I could run with them from the task at hand. I lay the changing mat on the carpet and proceed to change Liberty’s diaper.
The announcers return as I place Liberty back on her blanket surrounded by her favorite toys. “This year’s Homerun Derby holds two new twists. First, all pitches will be delivered at ninety-eight mph by a pitching machine. This has led to much discussion on social media leading up to tonight’s broadcast. Second, starting off our first round and now standing at homeplate is our ‘Mystery Contestant’.
“For our viewers at home, I would like to explain what we at the stadium witnessed during the commercial break. The large four-sided white screen contraption on wheels you now see around homeplate slowly rolled from the outfield bullpen, down the foul line to its current location. The entire time we observed the dark shadow of this ‘Mystery Contestant’ walking inside it. Notice how he stands swinging his bat at homeplate.”
The second announcer continues, “Every precaution has been taken to conceal his true identity. Neither of us in the broadcast booth know his identity. No cameras are inside the four-sided contraption ensuring the crowd knows not who we have before us. They’re telling us now only three camera angles will be available to record his homerun attempts. There will be no camera angles from the field toward homeplate.”
The other announcer jumps in. “Should our ‘Mystery Contestant’ continue to another round, the identity will continue to be concealed during the entire competition. I cannot fathom the amount of planning that goes into planning and carrying out this ‘Mystery Contestant’ in this year’s Homerun Derby.
“Fans are encouraged to use #HRDerbyMystery to post guesses regarding this player’s identity.”
“And the MLB Twitter account will tweet polls for fan voting and the results at the end of each round tonight.”
“Follow along on Twitter @MLB.”
“Cameras are ready, the entire front panel is removed, we can only see a shadow, and it’s time for the first pitch.”
My eyes are glued on the silhouette-outline as the player swings and sends the ball soaring over the centerfield fence for homerun number one.
“It’s Hamilton!” I turn to Alma while hopping up and down. “Hamilton’s the mystery contestant.” I frantically open Twitter on my phone and tweet.
Alma states there’s no way I should know in one swing. I inform her, he’s left-handed, and hips and left elbow positions during the swing and follow through are Hamilton’s. She smiles, still not convinced.
“You are my witness when he calls later tonight, I knew after his first homerun.”
We continue to watch as the ‘Mystery Contestant’ racks up twelve homeruns in the first round before the fourth white screen is repositioned and slowly walks down the foul line to the secure location behind the outfield bullpen.
Repeating the twelve homeruns in the second round the ‘Mystery Contestant’ qualifies for the finals. He will be representing the National League. I only look at Alma knowing this further proves my case that it’s Hamilton.
Hamilton’s FaceTime call arrives at 10:30 pm. Liberty long tucked into bed, I answer the phone as I walk toward Alma in the kitchen.
“Seriously?” I greet. “You kept that a secret from me? Your number one fan?” I position Alma in the camera with me. “I told Alma it was you after your first swing.”
Alma assures Hamilton I did immediately claim it was him. She chats for a bit before turning in for the night. I continue the rest of our conversation while sitting propped against the head of my bed.
Hamilton claims if he took batting practice as often as other position players he would not have run out of steam during the finals. I assure him his ten homeruns in the final round were awesome. He only lost by five. I encourage him to read the social media posts following the big reveal of his identity.
Hamilton confesses he’s been shown a few already. I hear someone talking loudly near him.
“Hey Mady, I need to let you go. I’ll text you later. If you’re still up, then I’ll call you.”