No Pit So Deep: The Cody Musket Story Read Online Free PDF Page B

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    Pittsburgh, Friday, July 11 — Musket! Musket, wake up!” Mark Stiller, Cody’s roommate, shook him by the shoulders. “Cody, wake up! You gotta come out of it!”
    “Uh, what time is it, Stills?” Cody sat up and held his head in his hands.
    “Man, it’s almost five o’clock in the afternoon. The game’s been rained out. You were losing it. When I walked in you were yelling ‘mayday’ again.”
    “Uh, did I say anything else?”
    “Yeah, you said something about some kids. You’re livin’ in a fog, man. You should get some help. What would you do if I wasn’t here? Like the other time when you got up and walked into the wall at the Marriot in Baltimore — blood all over the dang carpet, five stitches on your head.”
    “Hey, no sweat. I fell asleep. Just had a bad dream, that’s all.”
    “Yeah, right. Like the time I found you lyin’ in the hallway in Tampa and you didn’t even know where you were? Yeah, that was a bad dream too. Man, it’s been four years. Whatever happened over there, you need to get over it. But, what the hey, I mean it’s your business, your life, your career.”
    Cody took a long breath, then walked over to the bathroom sink and splashed his face. “I heard about the game being rained out, so I took a snooze.” He carried a towel back to the bed, sat on the edge and wiped his face. "Gotta find something to do with myself tonight.”
    “I’m leaving right now to pick up Sandy at the airport,” Mark said. “We’re going to her aunt’s house in Harrisburg tonight.” Mark put on his cap and walked toward the door. “Get some help, Musket. You don’t trust me. I get that. But you gotta friggin’ trust somebody.”
    From the eleventh floor of the Marriott, Cody could see PNC Ballpark in the distance. An early, wet darkness had befallen the city. Still raining. Gonna be a boring night.
    This was the evening he had dreaded — his first rainout since joining the Astros. In his previous three years, in the minor leagues, he had not done rainouts well. Boredom was something he feared.
    He sat in his plush hotel room looking through the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette . He flipped through the TV channels, stopping at local KDFG-TV in time to catch a sports report.
    “We turn our attention to sports now, as KDFG’s Peggy Kravchuk is standing by at PNC Park. Peggy, lots of rain today.”
    “That’s right, Cliff. And it looks like more dark clouds are on the way.”             
    “Well, Peggy, tell us what to expect from this red-hot Astros team.”
    “Cliff, the visiting Astros have been ignited by the surprising emergence of rookie third baseman Cody Musket. At only five foot nine inches, he’s leading the American League in home runs and is carrying a hefty .329 batting average. He has been up from Houston’s Double-A team at Corpus Christi just since late April and…”
    He turned it off, put on a Pirates T-shirt, stepped into a pair of Wrangler jeans, and donned a Pirates baseball cap. Hopefully, wearing the Pirates gear would keep him from being recognized.
    Earlier in the hotel lobby, he had been handed a VIP pass to a premiere screening of a new Superman movie. It was showing at a popular mall near the hotel. The superhero film would have to do — anything to get his mind off the boredom and bad dreams.
    The rain had let up temporarily, so he took to the wet sidewalks and sloshed his way toward the mall four blocks away.
    Wearing his Wranglers, Payless tennies, and the Pirates cap and shirt, he blended well while passing through the lobby of the Cinema 18 in Maxstone Memorial Matrix. It wouldn’t have been this easy in Houston where he was already a celebrity, but in this mall, situated less than a mile from the Allegheny River, he was just a guy going to the movie on a Friday night without a date.
    He arrived at the Cinema 18 early and decided to visit the concessions. As he stood in line, he overheard a young woman engaged in a cell phone