Crash Tack by A.J. Stewart

Author:A.J. Stewart
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Jacaranda Drive Publishing

Chapter Twenty-Six

ALEC MEECHAN WAS unapologetic. Amy attended the protest meeting after the race, where she told me Alec had claimed that he had eased to go behind our boat and that Amy had panicked, crash tacked and cut off his line, so he had to continue forward to avoid an impact. None of the other boats who witnessed events agreed with him. The protest was upheld, and Alec’s boat was disqualified from the race. He dismissed the whole thing with a shrug and a whatever, and then headed for the bar. There was talk of barring him from future races, but Amy said nothing would come of it because there wasn’t an actual accident. The whole thing was of no consequence to us, since we had crawled to the finish line near the end of the field, having been in first place at the final marker. Amy shrugged it off.

“It’s just a twilight. It’s not the America’s Cup,” she said.

“Still,” I said. “Can I buy you a drink?”

“Really?” she said. “That’s your best line?”

“No, that’s what I say when I offer to buy the crew a beer.”

Amy gave a sheepish nod. I got five beers and the guy from our crew who didn’t go overboard helped me carry them.

“I’m Miami, by the way.”

“Jeff,” he replied. “I saw you play ball.”

“You did? Where?”

“At Roger Dean Stadium.”

“So you’re a Cardinals’ fan,” I said.

“Yeah. Sorry.”

“Don’t sweat it.”

“You were good.”

“Thanks.”

“You mind if I ask you something?”

“Shoot,” I said, delivering the beers to our crew. Everyone shared a cheers, and the guy who had ended up in the water joined us with a towel, and told me his name was Rob.

Jeff took a sip and looked at me. “You beat Palm Beach every time I saw you pitch. So how is it that you didn’t make the majors?”

“You played baseball?” asked Amy.

“I did,” I said. “And I did make the majors, sort of. Back when I was playing in California. With the A’s.”

“I didn’t know that,” said Jeff.

“Yeah. I got on the squad in ’04, but never actually got to play.”

“That sucks.”

I nodded to him and sipped my beer. “You’re right, it did. But that’s life. I got traded for the next season, to the New York Mets, and they sent me down here to St. Lucie. That’s where I played out my career.”

“That’s sad you never got to play,” said Dakota.

“Sad? Nah, I don’t think so,” I said. “It was a joy to play baseball for so long and get paid to do it.”

“So you weren’t good enough?” asked Amy.

“Geez, Amy,” said Jeff.

“What? I just wondered why.”

I looked her in the eyes. “I don’t mind. I don’t know why. Sometimes it’s timing, sometimes another guy takes his chance at the right time when you don’t. Why I didn’t get my shot? I can’t tell you. The people who made the call never explained it to me.”

“So were you good enough?” she asked.

I shrugged. “I think so. I think I could have matched those guys. But it’s easy to say you could win the America’s Cup if you never get to board a boat.

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