#Truist Park

[greendayauthority]

Truist Park, Atlanta, GA, 28 August 2024

[chunksupreme]

Truist Park // Atlanta, GA

[rickhorrow]

Daily Numbers Game: Stadium Game, Truist Park

Truist Park and the Battery Atlanta have become a model for modern sports stadium development.

[an-ivy-covered-summer]

absolutely befuddled and devastated by the braves trading happy puppy baby grissom for chris sale, what in the actual fuck.

[novaplush]

At least the braves are still celebrating pride

[grandpeachpersona]

It's A Man's World

Chapter 6 (Welcome to Atlanta)

A/n: Just a filler chapter to be honest. Real action picks up the next chapter 😏

Warnings: None that I can tell

Likes and reposts are welcome also my ask is open just not doing any requests right now.

No matter how many times I replayed the moment in my mind, disbelief still lingered in my heart. Joe, in a roundabout way, had just extended a rather unexpected invitation—was he really asking me out on a date, regardless of whether I made the World Series? As the season drew to a close, I found myself wishing it would come to an end even faster.

As I stood at the podium during the pregame press conference, anticipation buzzed in the air around me. One of the interviewers leaned forward, a bright spotlight illuminating his eager expression. “So, how are you feeling before your first home game?” he inquired, his voice brimming with excitement.

With a mix of nerves and determination, I replied, “I’m feeling great. I won’t lie; the butterflies are definitely there, but I’m ready for this moment.” My tone was confident, masking the slight tremor in my hands.

The next reporter chimed in, “Your last game—you were 3 for 4. What was going through your mind each time you stepped up to the plate?” 

I chuckled, shaking my head at the absurdity of it all. “Honestly, I wasn't thinking much at all,” I said with a playful grin. “I was just hoping I could hit a ball that would bring in a run,” I added, my nod punctuating the laughter that filled the room.

Then, another reporter posed a question that made my heart swell, “It’s well-known that you, Joe Burrow, and Ja'marr Chase attended college together. What was that experience like, and how does it feel to see them thriving now?”

A wave of nostalgia washed over me as I reminisced. “Oh, it was such a blast! They graduated just a year ahead of me, but even back then, I knew they were destined for greatness. And now? It’s incredible to see them shining in their careers. I’m genuinely proud of both of them,” I said, my voice tinged with warmth and admiration.

Curiosity sparkled in the reporter’s eyes as he asked, “What was their reaction when they found out you were participating in the combine?”

I scratched the back of my neck, a sheepish smile forming. “I didn’t actually tell them,” I admitted, as chuckles rippled through the crowd. “But somehow, they found out anyway, and… let's just say I ended up buying the first round of drinks,” I said, laughing softly at the memory of our celebration.

The energy at Truist Park in Atlanta was electric, the cheers of the crowd echoing like thunder as we celebrated a stunning opening-day victory of 13-3 against the Diamondbacks. From the moment the first pitch sliced through the air, I felt an exhilarating sense of anticipation—Atlanta was truly buzzing, and it certainly did not disappoint.

Now, as I stepped into my new apartment, a place I could finally call home, a wave of contentment washed over me. I tossed my bag haphazardly in the corner by the door, the familiar clank of my keys hitting the table breaking the silence of the empty space.

With a soft thud, I collapsed onto the couch, letting out a deep sigh as I closed my eyes, attempting to untangle the chaos swirling in my mind after such a whirlwind of a day. But as I relaxed, thoughts of the whole Joe situation crept back in. Was he truly serious, or was this all just friendly banter? Was I overthinking every little interaction, or was there something more brewing beneath the surface? So many questions swirled around in my head, their answers just out of reach. For now, it seemed I would have to be patient and wait for clarity.

2 months later... 

All-star week had arrived, but unfortunately, I wasn’t among the chosen players to participate in the coveted All-Star game. Still, I felt a wave of relief wash over me at the prospect of some much-needed rest before rejoining my team on the road. 

This week also marked the halfway point of the season, a crucial juncture that implied if aspirations of snagging a wild card spot were to be realized, it was time to buckle down and hit the grind hard. Our record stood at a promising 32-17, leading us into the National League Divisional Championship Game, but the landscape of the season could shift in a matter of days.

With this little break that we humorously referred to as my "bye week," I had invited Mia down to catch up. The moment she arrived, she sauntered in with a bottle of wine, her spirited energy lighting up my living room. “So what's going on?” she asked, handing me a glass and settling herself onto the couch beside me, her eyes sparkling with curiosity.

“Girl, everything! But anyway, I have a date,” I teased, dragging out the last word to build suspense.

“Okay, with who?” she said, perking up at the mention of a potential romantic interest. “Is it one of your teammates?” 

I shook my head, a smile creeping across my face. “Nope.”

She leaned in closer, her expression shifting to one of mischief. “Some rich ass celebrity?” 

I shook my head again, amusement dancing in my eyes. 

“Then who? Because I'm lost,” she replied dramatically, acting exasperated.

“Number 9,” I replied with a grin.

Her eyes widened in realization as the nickname registered. Number 9 was our inside joke for Joe, the charming player whose effortless grin had captured my attention on more than one occasion. Mia’s gaze bore into me as she processed my words. Finally, her excitement erupted.

“Final-fucking-ly!” she exclaimed, bouncing off the couch like a kid on Christmas morning. “How the hell did that happen so fast?” she asked, still trying to catch her breath from her outburst.

I laughed, the sound warm and genuine, and I began to recount the story of our unexpected connection and the playful bet that had sparked this new chapter.

“So either way, it's a win-win situation,” she mused, a thoughtful look crossing her face once I finished explaining.

“Yeah, in a sense, but I’m just not sure if it’s a friendly outing or an actual date,” I admitted, genuinely perplexed about Joe’s intentions.

“Let me tell you, he didn’t mean it in any friendly way. That boy has liked you since the day you walked into LSU; everyone saw it,” she declared, her tone passionate. “Every time you turned around, Joe and you seemed glued at the hip for a while; people thought you were already dating!” She took a sip of her wine, emphasizing her point.

The number of times we had brushed off those rumors had become a running joke. Yet here I was, finally starting to understand how people viewed our dynamic.

“Yeah, I guess it was just a matter of time,” I said, finishing off my glass and enjoying its rich flavor.

“Took long enough! Ja'marr owes me 50 bucks,” she said triumphantly, standing up and gathering the glasses to take them into the kitchen.

I chuckled softly to myself, recalling how my friends and I had joked about Joe and my chemistry. I knew I shouldn’t have introduced them; it had all spiraled a little too quickly, and yet, there was a thrill in the air that suggested maybe it was all meant to be.

I had just wrapped up an intense batting practice session, the scent of sweat and freshly cut grass lingering in the air, when my phone began to ring, cutting through the post-practice haze.

Incoming FaceTime call from Joe Burrr 🧡

A grin spread across my face as I pressed accept, and a moment later, Joe’s familiar face materialized on the screen, lighting up my day. 

“Heyyy Joee,” I drawled, stretching out his name playfully, letting my excitement show.

He tilted his head back, letting out an exaggerated groan. “Please don't ever do that again, but hi.”

I pulled a chair towards me, the cold metal scraping against the ground, and settled in comfortably. “What’s up?” I asked, curiosity bubbling within me.

He shook his head, a hint of exasperation in his eyes. “Nothing much, just bored, so I thought I’d give you a ring. Are you at practice?” His gaze drifted to the vibrant backdrop of the field behind me.

“Yeah, I just finished batting practice. About to jump into some field drills soon, but I’ve got a minute,” I reassured him, feeling the warmth of our friendship.

“You sure? I don’t want to mess up your flow,” he replied, a note of hesitation in his voice.

I shook my head, a slight smile playing on my lips. “Joe, I will always have time to talk to you.”

A small smile crept onto his lips in reply. “Okay, okay, but I do have a reason for calling. When is your last game for the season?” he asked, genuine curiosity sparkling in his eyes.

Confusion washed over my face momentarily. “I think it’s October 2nd. Why do you ask?”

“Well, that’s the same day we’ll be in Atlanta,” he said, a hint of excitement creeping into his voice.

“You all facing the Falcons the same day?” I replied, piecing together the connection.

He nodded, an enigmatic smile gracing his features. “Yep. And I would love to see you there,” he said earnestly.

I made an exaggerated expression, anticipation mixing with disbelief. “How the hell am I going to be there and still play my game, Joe?” The prospect seemed absurd.

He chuckled, his laughter contagious, and then rolled his eyes. “Ri. It’s a night game."

The realization hit me like a ton of bricks, and I felt like the biggest fool on Earth. Of course, it’s a night game, Sierra; otherwise, he wouldn’t have called to invite you! 

“I knew that,” I stammered, hoping to salvage my dignity.

Joe studied me for a moment, then burst into soft laughter, muttering something that sounded suspiciously like ‘Yeah, alright.’

“I’ll be there without a doubt,” I assured him, my heart swelling with excitement.

“Good. And don’t show up in any Falcons gear either,” he said, his tone turning serious as he shot me a pointed look.

My competitive spirit ignited, and I decided to push his buttons just a bit. “And if I do?” I challenged, a teasing glint in my eyes.

“Sierra, don’t play with me,” Joe replied, his voice dropping to a serious tone that sent a flutter through my stomach.

“I’m just kidding, Joe. Even though I still haven’t forgotten your little stunt, I’ll proudly wear your jersey,” I replied, a smile breaking across my face.

He fixed me with a pointed look again, the corners of his mouth twitching upwards. “You better.”

Next Chapter...Nice

[fluentmoviequoter]

Knowing You're Close

Pairing: Michael Ormewood x fem!detective!reader

Summary: You work best when you know Ormewood is close, and when he realizes how much his presence affects you, he wants to learn more.

Warnings: fluff, case involves child abduction, Ormewood may be OOC (it's a custom blend of his s1+2 character + how I picture him in the books)

Word Count: 1.5k+ words

A/N: I love him so much but when I write him I get so scared that he's wildly OOC. Plus, all of the gifs of him are from the scene where he (spoiler free, promise) does not look his best, so that's disappointing.

Since you arrived at the station this morning, Ormewood has been tapping his pencil against his desk. You haven’t said anything about it because it’s a reminder to focus on your case. You’re not sure why it’s encouraging you to focus other than the subtle reminder that people have weird little quirks that are only annoying until they’re gone. There may be several families in Atlanta that would give anything to hear their loved ones click a pen or complain about how the dishes were dried one more time if you don't make a break in this case soon.

“Hey, how far is the Coke Museum from the aquarium?” he asks without stopping the rhythmic tap, tap, tap-tap against his desk.

“A mile,” you answer. “About a twenty-minute walk or twelve minutes on Line 26 bus.”

“Thanks.”

You hum and flip the page in your case file. You’re missing something.

“Corruption,” you murmur.

“I told you, the vending machine was broken and taking one protein bar doesn’t make me corrupt,” Ormewood answers.

“What? No, this case, there’s something… I don’t know.”

“I can find it.”

You and Ormewood sigh together before you see GBI Special Agent Will Trent standing before you. Ormewood mouths good luck and then returns to his own work. And the pencil tapping.

“Let me read the files,” Will says.

“Will,” you begin, closing the folder, “you only want to help because you’re bored. Which means you’re going to ask to go out in the field and drag me all over Fulton County, which I am not in the mood for today. So, thanks, but no thanks.”

“Just Fulton County?” Will clarifies, attempting to see the crime scene photos on your desk.

“None of your concern, Agent Trent,” you reply with a smile. “We’ve got it.”

“There’s nothing to do around here!” he complains as he tosses his arms up. “Just pencil tapping!”

Ormewood winks at you as he switches up the rhythm of his tapping. “I didn’t know it was that easy to get out of working with Trent. I’ll have to try that next time.”

“Yeah, you can’t just say no, you have to make it about him,” you explain, closing your eyes as you sit back in your seat.

Ormewood laughs, then rephrases to say, “You tell him it’s not me, it’s you.”

You hum, but then your eyes snap open. “Say that again.”

“It’s not me, it’s you?”

“What am I interrupting?” Faith asks, stopping behind you.

“Didn’t somebody just get cut from the Braves?”

“Uh, excuse me?” Faith tries again.

“In a minute!” Ormewood snaps, leaning toward you. “Yeah. He was training to be a pitcher. Had the potential to be a star pitcher, take us to the world championship.”

“What happened?”

“They had evidence he bought drugs. Swore he wasn’t using, and all of his drug tests came back clean.”

“It’s not me… it's you,” you say under your breath.

“Where’s Will?” Faith inquires.

“Faith,” Ormewood answers, shaking his head as he answers, “no one here cares. We’re not keeping up with your partner.”

“I got it!” you cheer, knocking your chair back as you stand.

“Will. Trent. So-tall, rambles, anybody seen him?” Faith says. “It’s like talking to children.”

“I’ll go with you,” Ormewood offers, trailing behind you as you rush toward the elevators.

Faith watches, tipping her head as she wonders, “Or is it more like puppy dogs?”

“Okay, so Truist Park is at the 75/285 interchange,” you explain. “You can get on either interstate and get anywhere in Atlanta without being noticed. But Dobbins Air Reserve Base is just a few miles up 41 from the stadium.”

“Right,” Ormewood agrees. “But what’s the connection of those locations to the missing girls?”

“These girls were from Atlanta’s nicest neighborhoods. Areas where our city officials sit on the HOA board, or whatever rich people do in fancy neighborhoods. Take a few residents, get the attention of all of the powerful people in the city…”

You trail off, and Ormewood connects, “You get leverage to get what you want.”

“Right, at least in criminal logic. So, this pitcher gets cut on a technicality and decides to show Atlanta what they’re losing, maybe try to blackmail his way back onto the team.”

“Or?”

“Or someone else is trying to get him back on the team. He’s got a cousin, according to his Braves profile, that works at Robbins. The proximity makes me think he’s holding these girls on the base. Granted, I could be way off, and it has nothing to do with a baseball team.”

“Worth a shot. I’ll find your guy, and you look for a hiding place fit for teenage girls?”

“Sounds good.” You look over the top of the car as you climb out and say, “Be careful.”

“You too.”

You answer your phone as you follow a uniformed MP officer through the base to check the lowest security areas of the base.

“I found someone who wants to talk to you,” Ormewood says.

“No, I don’t!” a man argues.

“I don’t believe anyone, ever, on principle. But this is your case, so I’ll hold him here until you’re ready.”

“Thanks. I’ll be right over.”

After the MP officer agrees to finish the search and call your watch commander if he finds anything, you walk across the base and find Ormewood with one arm stretched out and his hand pressed lazily against your suspect.

“Trevor?” you ask the man. “I’m a detective with the APD. I have a few questions for you.”

“I want a lawyer,” he answers.

Ormewood scoffs, and you shake your head at him.

“Are you sure you can’t just answer a couple quick questions?” you ask. “It’ll only take a minute.”

“There are five missing girls out there,” Ormewood seethes, wrapping Trevor’s shirt around his hand. “Think very carefully about how you answer.”

“Lawyer!”

Ormewood steps closer to the man, but you wrap your hand around his wrist and shake your head.

“Alright. Trevor, I’m placing you under arrest for reasonable suspicion of abduction,” you begin, placing handcuffs on him. “You have the right to remain silent, anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney, which you’ve already exercised, so we can’t ask you any more questions.”

“We just think about how guilty that makes you look,” Ormewood adds as he pushes your suspect into the backseat of the car.

“Officers!” the MP officer yells behind you. “I found something!”

“No, he didn’t!” Trevor yells against the window. “You didn’t find anything, man! Say psych!”

“Psych is not admissible in court,” you point out. “Lead the way, officer.”

“Why are you in my chair?” you ask as you return to your desk after receiving a full confession and recovering all of the abducted girls.

“I decided to offer my services anyway,” Will explains. “You seemed busy. The missing girls are-“

“Home,” Ormewood finishes. “We found them two-and-a-half hours ago.”

“How?” Will questions, clearly surprised by the outcome.

“Not all cases are solved on pure luck or weirdly timed flashbacks, Trent.”

“The whole thing screamed leverage,” you explain with a shrug. “I just had to find someone who needed the rich and powerful on his side. Someone desperate enough to stage numerous abductions to do it.”

“Well, now there really is nothing to do here. Have either of you seen Faith?”

Will stands from your seat as Ormewood suggests, “Maybe try calling each other.”

“Thanks for all of your help today,” you tell Ormewood once you’re alone again. He nods, and you ask, “Why’d you get rough with Trevor?”

“If it was my daughter, I’d want to know exactly where she was as soon as possible. He was going to keep stalling, and a public defender would have loved using his situation to delay until it was too late to save them.”

“Can you tap your pencil again?”

“What?” Ormewood asks, shock and confusion evident in the single syllable.

“It… I like knowing that you’re here, close, okay.”

Ormewood nods slowly, then begins tapping his eraser against his desk. You shift your focus to the paperwork for the case, but Ormewood watches you. Something about his presence seems to help you, provide a comfort that he hadn’t even noticed. More surprising, he thinks, is that he likes knowing how his presence makes you feel.

“Is it just my tapping?” he asks. He seems as surprised to hear the question as you.

“If it is?” you counter. “Will you move to a different desk?”

“I was thinking we find out if sharing a table only works at the station.”

“Are you asking me out?” you clarify.

“I didn’t anticipate the interrogation it would take to get an answer, but yes.”

You smile and tap your pen against your hand with Ormewood’s beat as you answer, “I’d love to.”

“I have got to stop coming down here with questions,” Faith announces as she abandons her goal and returns the way she came.

[daily-twice-content]

20230709 TWICE’s 5th World Tour Ready To Be @ Truist Park in Atlanta

© Candy So Sweet | Do not edit and crop logo.

[mancandykings]

Spencer Strider #99 during the sixth inning of the game between the Atlanta Braves and the Baltimore Orioles at Truist Park on May 6, 2023 in Atlanta, Georgia

[safetypinserenade-remade]

Loooooooong shot but anyone in atlanta want a free ticket to the green day concert tomorrow? My mom and I have three tickets but only the both of us can go.

If anyone does it would have to work like this: you would meet up with us at truist park stadium and we'd go inside together, as all three tickets are on my phone.

[greendayauthority]

Truist Park, Atlanta, GA, 28 August 2024

[ballparksaroundtheworld]

Truist Park, Cumberland, Georgia, USA

[sevikababymama]

🧡 JIHYO ENCORE | TWICE - READY TO BE TOUR in ATLANTA | Truist Park

cr: @/booshikpop @/glitterfairy

[an-ivy-covered-summer]

even though as a baseball fan i understand that the way the season is scheduled makes it almost impossible for ballparks to be the main location for artists doing summer tours, as an advocate of ballpark supremacy i still wish there was a way to make it happen bc the architecture and atmosphere of a baseball stadium is always a thousand times better than that of a football one.

[starlitskvader]

Top 5 streets with Peachtree in the name in Atlanta. 🍑

Also, top 5 pictures of Ivy. 🥺

LMAO… there are so many….

In no particular order:

Peachtree Street NE. Closest to Ga State Aquarium, and where you’ll find the fabulous Fox Theatre! There is also a Sweet Hut on this street.

W Peachtree Street NE. You will likely use this to access Center For Puppetry Arts.

Peachtree Industrial Boulevard. I’m cheating a bit here as this is primarily in Norcross and becomes just Peachtree Boulevard after crossing the perimeter - I just think the name is funny due to the disparate images its component words bring to mind.

Peachtree Street SW. Access to The Masquerade, where sometimes there are Mystery Skulls concerts.

Peachtree Street. It’s just funny that this one gets to exist without any modifiers.

With the exception of Peachtree Industrial these are chosen based on landmark. Curiously there are no Peachtrees particularly close to Zoo Atlanta, Pullman Yards, Fernbank Science Center, or Truist Park. (Six Flags is actually in Austell, not Atlanta, and is on Six Flags Drive. As it should be.)

As for Ivy…

Obstructing art, BALL, cozy, attempted burglary, and fascinated by magical girl shows.

Bonus video:

[grandpeachpersona]

It's A Man's World Chapter 7 (Nice)

Warnings: Flirting slightly, no smut, slow burn, injury (nothing major or no injury to Joe) slight blood mentioned. Lots of Sports talk.

Word Count: 2,930 (Overboard)

A;N Have a Happy Thanksgiving! 🦃🧡

Today is a pivotal day—the last game of the season, and it’s a nail-biter. With a record of 90-75, the stakes couldn't be higher. If we lose, there's still a flicker of hope for a wild card spot. But a victory? That would catapult us straight into the Divisional Championship Game, a dream scenario for any player.

On top of that, I have the incredible opportunity to watch Mr. Joe Cool in action, whom Mia playfully calls my “Future Husband.” Back in college, I was a dedicated fan, never missing a game where he showcased his extraordinary talent. Every time he stepped onto the field, I was mesmerized and captivated by his grace, skill, and looks if you know what I mean.

As I enter Truist Park, an electric energy fills the air. There's a palpable buzz among the fans, an atmosphere that feels almost tangible like anticipation hanging thick and heavy. It's a feeling that's hard to articulate but ignites something deep within me.

Stepping into what could be one of the biggest games of my life, the weight of the moment hangs around me like a cloak. While many might crack under such intense pressure, I choose to thrive in it. The doubters, the naysayers—they only serve to fuel my determination. Their negativity pushes me to dig deeper, to push harder, to give everything I've got. Today is more than just a game; it’s a chance to shine.

The game began on a strong note, with both teams holding their ground during the first couple of innings. Now, we find ourselves at the bottom of the third, and I'm stepping up to bat.

As "Do I Do" by Stevie Wonder plays, I approach home plate with a focused demeanor, considering my options for this at-bat.

Mark Andrew, the pitcher for the Washington Nationals, prepares himself on the mound as my walkout song fades and I assume my batting stance.

He takes a deep breath and delivers his pitch. I notice it's outside the zone, so I refrain from swinging and let the ball pass.

“1 and 0 is the count,” the umpire calls from behind me.

I get myself ready again as he gears up for his next pitch. He winds up and throws once more.

I swing but miss as the curveball passes by.

“Strike!” the umpire shouts.

I nod in acknowledgment and take a step back. That was the pitch I had anticipated; he boasts one of the best curveballs in the league right now.

I step back into the box a raise my bat. ‘Come on, give me something to hit,’ I said in my head

He threw his next pitch, and it all happened so fast. One moment, I was watching the ball being thrown for me to hit, and the next, I found myself on the ground, holding the side of my head because I had just been hit by a baseball. My helmet absorbed most of the impact, but when a baseball comes at you at 95 miles an hour, you definitely feel it.

A gasp swept through the ballpark as the scene unfolded. The catcher immediately waved for a trainer from my dugout before leaning down and putting a hand on my shoulder. “Hey, can you hear me? Are you okay?” he asked.

For some reason, his voice sounded distant, and I couldn't respond. I just nodded, still holding the side of my head. I guess my helmet flew off when I hit the ground.

Soon, the trainer arrived with a towel. “That was a hard hit. Do you think you can roll over?” he asked, but again, his voice sounded muffled. So, I nodded once more, and they helped roll me over.

I groaned in pain as they rolled me onto my back. Finally opening my eyes, the ringing in my ears stopped, and my hearing returned to normal. “Fuck,” I groaned, hoping the microphones on the field didn’t pick it up.

Justin squatted down next to me. “Hey, we need to get you to the trainer's room. That ball got you pretty good.”

Taking in his words, I moved my hands from my face. “Shit,” I gasped as I noticed my glove was stained with more than just dirt; I was busted open.

I managed to sit up while the trainer pressed a towel against my head. Damn, I’d rather be hit with tennis balls than this—at least they had some cushion.

With their help, I slowly got to my feet as a round of applause filled the stadium. This was definitely not how I envisioned my day going.

Unfortunately, I found myself benched after that incident, nursing a fresh set of stitches on my forehead. While I was grateful there was no concussion or major head injury involved—just a wayward pitch that went terribly wrong—I couldn’t help but feel the sting of frustration. Mark was the pitcher, and I held no grudges against him; I knew it wasn’t intentional. Just hours earlier, we’d been laughing and joking around, sharing inside jokes and pre-game camaraderie. But that’s baseball for you; sometimes, in the heat of the moment, a pitcher loses their grip, and you end up taking a hit.

It was the bottom of the ninth inning, with the air crackling with tension. The scoreboard lit up with a nail-biting 3-3 tie. The atmosphere was thick with anticipation as two outs hung in the balance. Austin stepped up to the plate, a determined look on his face. My pinch replacement, Tommy Reese, was on deck, stretching and warming up, ready to step in if the situation called for it.

Over at first base, Ronald Acuña Jr. stood poised, his athletic frame ready to explode into action. All Austin needed to do was make solid contact with the ball and drive it into the outfield. With Ronald’s incredible speed, we all knew he could beat the throw home.

As the closer took his position on the mound, I felt my heart racing in sync with the crowd’s energy. He shot a quick glance back at Acuña before winding up to pitch to Austin.

Austin stood firm, carefully checking his swing as the first pitch sailed by—ball one. It was a good start, and my confidence began to build.

I leaned forward, elbows digging into my knees, every muscle in my body tense with expectation. This was it—the moment we had all been waiting for.

The pitcher glanced once more at Ronald, then took a deep breath and delivered the next pitch. It was as if everything slowed down for just a heartbeat. Austin, eyes locked on the ball, swung with ferocity and precision. The crack of the bat echoed like thunder as the ball soared into the air, arcing gracefully toward the outfield. It sailed further and further until it disappeared into the majestic waterfall display at the park.

A walk-off home run! Victory was ours!

The stadium erupted into a wild celebration, a thunderous roar that sent vibrations through the very ground beneath us. It felt as if the entire stands shook with joy and excitement. Everyone from the dugout charged the field, sprinting toward home plate, united in the thrill of triumph as Austin rounded the bases, his expression a blend of disbelief and exhilaration.

I stood just outside the circle, wise enough to be cautious with my stitches, but that didn’t stop me from celebrating with every ounce of energy I had. I cheered and clapped, sharing in the jubilant atmosphere that surrounded me.

We were heading to the NLDS, baby!

As I settled into my seat for the post-game press conference, I offered a soft but warm greeting to the room, a subtle “hello” that echoed in the anticipation-filled space.

One of the reporters, a familiar face I would later come to know as Dave, leaned forward and asked, “Riley, how are you feeling right now?”

I let out a light chuckle, a mix of relief and exhilaration washing over me. “Honestly, I’m feeling great! The adrenaline is really pumping through me right now, so I’m not even feeling this,” I said, gesturing lightly to my head. “But overall, I��m feeling good.”

From the back of the room, a voice rang out, filled with curiosity. “How proud are you of Austin?” A woman inquired, her tone sincere and warm.

A broad smile broke across my face as I thought about my brother. “I’m incredibly proud of him. That’s my twin right there,” I replied, injecting a bit of humor into the moment. It was a playful reference to the nickname we had given each other for our shared last name.

Laughter erupted around the room, lifting the spirits of everyone present. Just as the chuckles faded, another reporter asked, “When you got hurt earlier, the team looked visibly shaken, but they managed to pull themselves together. How do you all stay focused and regain your composure in such moments?”

I took a breath and nodded firmly.

I nodded firmly. “No matter how much I’m hurting or how tough things get for the team, we stand by each other, always. When you train with the same group through the spring and share the field with them through the summer. A strong bond forms. So whether we win or lose, when you underestimate us, we step onto that field and prove that we are just too nice for yall”

“Girl, you okay? I saw you got knocked upside the head,” Mia asked from the other side of the phone on her way home from work.

Leaning my head back against the headrest of the car as Kyle drove to Mercedes-Benz Stadium, I replied, “Sis, I’m cool. I got a few stitches. I'll be fine in a couple of days.”

“Alright, if you say so,” she sighed. “Are you still going to the game?”

“Pulling up to the stadium as we speak,” I responded, looking out the tinted window.

“Alright, be careful; tell Ja’marr and Joe I said hi,” she said.

“Yes, Mom,” I replied, rolling my eyes. “And I will.”

We hung up just as Kyle pulled into the private parking lot. He looked up in the rearview mirror and asked, “Ready?”

“Let’s get this show on the road,” I replied, putting on my shades. He nodded and got out to open the door for me. “Are you sure you don’t want to come?” I offered.

He smiled and shook his head. “No, I’m fine. I’m a Cowboys fan anyway,” he said.

I feigned a shocked look. “Wow, I’m hurt, Kyle,” I said, shaking my head.

“Sorry, not sorry,” he replied, getting back into the driver's seat.

As I walked into the stadium, security guards escorted me to a private box. It was about thirty minutes until kickoff, and fans were filling the stands, ready for some Thursday night football.

When I entered the box, I noticed a few women already there. At first, I thought the guard had led me to the wrong room, but they reassured me that I was in the right place and welcomed me in. During our conversation, I quickly learned that they were WAGS.

“So, which one are you here for?” one of the women asked. I learned her name was Emma.

I shook my head. “Oh, I’m not dating anyone on the team. Joe, Ja’marr, and I all went to college together, so I'm just here to watch them.”

Speaking of the devils, there they were, taking the field for pregame warm-ups. My eyes drifted to Joe in his uniform. He really looked good in everything—the way his hair fell perfectly and how his tights gripped his thighs.

Girl, get ahold of yourself.

“You okay?” Lexi asked to my left with a slight chuckle.

“Yep... just great,” I responded, crossing my legs to calm myself down somewhat.

Joe started looking around the stadium until he finally found me. When he did, he tapped Ja’marr on the back, said something in his ear, and pointed up at me.

I waved at both of them, and they waved back before turning their attention back to their warm-ups.

God, help me.

The score was 27-27 in the 4 quarter with just 60 seconds left on the clock and the Bengals had the ball if I know Joe he does not want to take this thing into overtime at all.

I sat there holding my breath as the ball was snapped into Joe's hands he looked around the field before he threw a Hail Mary pass to the in-zone hoping someone would catch it and ill be dammed.

Tee Higgins caught that ball at what was the last possible second to give the Bengals the touchdown.

The stadium goes crazy, and so do I. The Bengals just won the game with that play. There was only time for the kick for the extra point.

As Joe made his way back to the sideline he pointed up to my box with a nod. I nod my head back with a smirk, something we did back in LSU as to say,y ‘Who they think they playing with’

The Bengals walked into Atlanta and got the dub 34-27.

After things calm down a bit, security takes me down to the field. I immediately spotted Ja'marr's back talking to Joe. They said Joe and I were thick as thieves. Every time you turned around, these two were together.

Deciding to mess with Ja'marr a bit I ran and jumped on his back.

“What the hell,” he said confused at first then he heard my giggles “Girl if you don't get off of me,” he said in this fake serious tone.

“You'll be okay,” I patted his chest. “Congrats on the dub, you two,” I said, hoping down.

“Thanks same to you, Divisional huh?” Ja’marr congrats me.

I nodded my head with a slight smile. “She's going to get a ring before us, Joe,” Ja’marr said with a fake cry.

I shook my head at him. “You sure he didn't get tackled too hard.”

Joe played along, “You know, been asking myself the same question all season.”

Ja’marr’s jaw drops dramatically. “You know what? I'm going to hit the showers 'cause yall doing too much.”

He walked through the tunnel before he disappeared. “Thought you weren't coming. saw you got hit earlier,” Joe said, turning his attention to me his eyes going straight to the bandage on my forehead.

Looking up at him even though I'm 5 '7 Joe still had a couple of couple inches on me. “I wasn't going to let a hit stop me from seeing you.”

He turned his head, and I could tell he was fighting a grin because the corners of his mouth twitched. “Just me?” he asked.

I pretend to think about it for a minute. “Well, you and Ja’marr if you want to throw him in there, but mostly you.”

He laughed, shaking his head. “I won't tell him what you said,” he said, his eyes meeting mine.

I shrugged. “It's ok, he knows.”

Joe and I continued talking for a minute before his name was shouted out of the tunnel by a Bengals staff member

He turned his head, and I heard him slightly curse “You totally forgot you had a press conference didn't you” I asked trying not to giggle.

He nodded his head “Yep,” he said, popping the “P”

I shook my head. Joe had a one-track mind. He shouted to the person calling for him “I'll be there in a sec” then turned back to me.

“Duty Calls,” he opened his arms for a hug, and of course, I gave him one. Closing the gap, I hugged back despite the bulk of his gear.

It was like home, ignoring the sweat and the smell of grass and mud. I could smell the faint scent of his cologne it just felt all too familiar.

To my dislike we had to let go “Text me when you get home” he said releasing me. I didn't get a chance to respond before he was off toward the tunnel.

Yeah, I guess I will

After popping a Tylenol for my head, I climb into bed, ready to call it a night, but not before reaching for my phone and opening my text messages.

Me

I'm home.

Joe Burrr 🧡

Good. Started to get worried for a minute.

Me

Sorry after the game my head was screaming at me.

Joe Burrr 🧡

Did you take something for it?

Me

Took a Tylenol. Hasn't let me down yet.

Joe Burrr 🧡

Good..You're not going to miss any of your games right?

Me

Naw I'm too tough and got too much on the line to be benched now. I'll be ready come next week.

Joe Burrr 🧡

I know you will but just come out the next one without a hit to the face.

Me

I will try to avoid those the best I can 🫡

Joe Burrr 🧡

Please do. You have to pretty of a face for someone to be playing target practice.

Me

Watch it Joe

Joe Burrr 🧡

What! All I did was give my friend a compliment on her amazing looks.

Me

Well I thank you but now I wanna know what's your favorite look on me?

Joe Burrr 🧡

Any look you have on is my favorite. Ri.

Me

Ok, I'll give you that one

For now…

Joe Burrr 🧡

Maybe I'll have an answer for you in a couple weeks