Chapter Text
Anticipation hung in the air as James Outman, the Dodgers' talented rookie outfielder, stood at home plate, his bat gripped tightly in hand, ready to swing. The pitch came, and with a resounding crack of the bat, the ball sailed into shallow right field.
Spencer Torkelson, the Detroit Tigers' agile first baseman, moved swiftly to retrieve the ball. He scooped it up and sent a lightning-fast throw to his teammate, Beau Brieske, the pitcher, who was rushing to cover first base.
In an instant, James' sprint towards first base and Beau's rush to tag the bag seemed synchronized, as if they were dancers in perfect harmony. The call from the umpire echoed through the stadium: "Safe!"
But the play wasn't over just yet. The call was under review. As the tension in the stadium heightened, one of the cameras filming the game zoomed in on James and Spencer, who stood side by side, waiting for the final decision.
In the Dodgers' bullpen, Alex Vesia watched the broadcast on a tablet. His eyes narrowed as he noticed something peculiar — the profiles of James and Spencer. They were both chewing their gum in precise unison. It was a small detail, but it struck him as oddly significant.
Alex's suspicion deepened as he saw a slow-motion replay of James and Beau's simultaneous contact with first base, their feet hitting opposite corners of the bag at the exact same moment, like mirror images of each other. The pieces of the puzzle seemed to fall into place in a strange way, making him wonder if something magical might be happening on the baseball field.
Eager to share his discovery, Alex turned to his fellow pitcher and friend, Ryan Pepiot, who was sitting beside him in the bullpen. He showed Ryan the tablet, asking, "Hey, do you see this?"
But by the time Ryan turned his attention to the screen, the camera had already cut away to another angle, leaving him puzzled. "See what?" Ryan asked, curiosity in his eyes.
After a moment's thought, Alex dismissed it as a mere coincidence. He remembered that Ryan didn't know about magic, and he had never discussed such matters with him. Alex wished Tony and Evan were there — they would understand and perhaps help him unravel the enigma. However, Tony was recovering from Tommy John surgery, and Evan had the day off, leaving Alex alone with his thoughts and a nagging sense that something extraordinary might be happening on the baseball field.
In the Dodgers clubhouse, after the game, Alex passed by James' locker and noticed something strange. James and Freddie Freeman were sitting near each other, engaged in an unusual synchronized routine. They were putting on and tying their street shoes with identical movements—again, like mirror images of each other. It was an eerie sight, and Alex couldn't help but stare, transfixed by the uncanny precision.
Both players paused for a moment to scratch their necks in the exact same spot, as if following some rehearsed choreography. Then, with almost robotic coordination, they continued tying the other shoe, all the while maintaining the same mirrored motions. Alex's bewilderment deepened.
He took out his phone and briefly considered calling Evan and describing to him what he was witnessing, but then he remembered – Evan was spending time with his boyfriend, Joey Gallo, who was in town. Alex didn't want to interrupt what precious little time they had together.
Max Muncy was passing by just as James was standing up, and he smiled at James. James smiled in return, and he reached out and patted his teammate affectionately on the shoulder—at the exact same moment that Alex felt a hand make slapping contact on his own shoulder from behind. Startled out of his trance, he let out a small yelp and spun around to find Ryan standing there.
Ryan stepped back, holding up both hands in a gesture of innocence. "Sorry. Didn't mean to startle you. I just wanted to say that was some great pitching you did in the seventh."
Finding his breath again, Alex said, "Thanks."
Before Ryan could walk away, Alex stopped him. He needed to figure out what was causing these bizarre synchronized movements, and at this point he was getting desperate to talk about it with someone he trusted.
"You're not in a hurry to leave, are you?" Alex inquired. "I want to show you something."