Gemotions

The doctor’s pronouncement was a hammer blow. "Mr. Rodriguez, we're going to move you to the bench, for now." Rodriguez, a starting pitcher for over a decade, felt the ground shift beneath his feet. He took a shallow breath, his chest constricted as if a metal band had tightened around it. He was a pitcher. It was all he knew. He stared at the doctor, then at his own trembling hands. The sterile, clinical atmosphere of the locker room seemed to close in around him, the scent of antiseptic suddenly overwhelming. He fought a wave of nausea, his gut twisting with an unfamiliar mix of fear and confusion.