Disclaimer: I do own Michael and Chris, and also, I own a Glo-in-the-Dark rosary given to me by the cracked out Catholic grandmother with whom I'm no longer speaking, but I don't own a lot of other crap. Like the MLB.
Summary: The first time they kiss, they are both drunk: the pitcher on a couple shots of whiskey and three Buds, and the catcher on love.
Notes: Am not Yankee bashing. Not my fault the Yanks are the team to beat in the American League.
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The first time they kiss, they are both drunk: the pitcher on a couple shots of whiskey and three Buds, and the catcher on love. But if ever he was asked, Chris would say it was the strawberry daiquiris and the three shots of Stoli Vanil he had earlier that evening (when really that was not possible because he had all ready gotten that out of his system by the time he and his pitcher ended up necking in a booth at the smoky nightclub).
Michael's got this cheap plastic, Glo-in-the-Dark rosary that he wears around his neck, and every so often, he'll reach up and finger some beads like if he doesn't touch it, he'll lose himself, he'll lose his bearings.
Chris, if ever he was asked, would say that Michael's all ready lost himself, but he will never say that because no one -- but him -- will ever know how far gone Michael all ready is.
So they kiss again, and Chris tangles his fingers in the rosary about Michael's neck, and the pitcher is beginning to think that maybe the catcher isn't as drunk as he's letting on.
Michael remembers vaguely that his catcher once told him that he never drank during the season. Wouldn't want to come to the game trashed, and end up being responsible for the team losing the pennant to the Goddamn Yankees.
So Michael fabricates a story about having something -- an eyelash, that's believable -- in his eye, and excuses himself to the men's room of the seedy nightclub.
In the bathroom, he gets down onto his knees -- a couple pimply faced teenagers who recognize him from ESPN highlights eye him with reverent shock -- and removes the rosary from about his neck, kissing it, begging the Lord -- in all of His divine, infinite mercy -- for His forgiveness.
But all he sees is a sinner staring back at him from the dirty, broken mirror.