Chapter 31 - Man's Gonna Need Therapy

Boos erupted. Katie covered her face. The livestream exploded:

@CheerCaptain: LANDON BAILLED LIKE A BABY 💀

@GymBro: BRUH JUST MAN UP

Landon's ears burned. The bat lay in the dirt, a monument to his shame. He's throwing at my head!

Michael scooped another ball, his expression ice. "Scared?"

"You're insane!" Landon hissed.

"Then don't bunt," Michael said, loud enough for the mics to catch. "But the internet's watching."

Landon's throat tightened. His frat brothers were here. His coaches. He couldn't quit.

He grabbed the bat, hands trembling. Bunt. Just bunt.

Michael's next pitch came faster. A fastball aimed at Landon's ribs.

Landon lunged sideways, swinging wildly. The ball smacked into Tyler's mitt.

"STRIKE ONE!"

Landon's breath came in ragged gulps. This isn't happening. The crowd's laughter clawed at him. Katie's pitying stare. His phone buzzed in his back pocket—probably the group chat roasting him.

Landon Shaw gripped the bat until his knuckles turned white. Sweat dripped down his temple, mixing with the dirt on his cheeks. 

The crowd's jeers buzzed in his ears like angry hornets. Don't look at her. Don't look at Katie. But his eyes betrayed him, flicking to where she stood behind the backstop. Her arms were crossed, her lips pressed into a thin line. 

She's watching. She's always watching.

Michael's stare burned into him from the mound. Landon's stomach churned. 

The guy looked… different. 

Not the broken shell he'd visited in the hospital. More ferocious than he was just minutes ago. His eyes were cold, focused—predatory. Like a wolf sizing up a wounded deer. 

Landon's throat tightened.

He's gonna throw at me again. He's trying to kill me.

Landon adjusted his stance, inching closer to the plate. His plan was clear in the twitch of his fingers: drop a bunt.

Just make contact. Anything. Even a foul. Just don't—

Michael wound up, his left arm whipping forward in a blur. The ball rocketed toward the plate—not at the strike zone, but directly at Landon's torso.

Time slowed.

The seams of the ball spun like a buzzsaw. Landon's brain short-circuited. He's aiming for me! His body froze. The ball screamed toward his abdomen, a white bullet leaving a vapor trail.

Move. MOVE!

His legs gave out. He crumpled to the dirt, arms flailing. "I'M DONE! I'M DONE!" he screeched, crawling backward like a crab. The bat clattered to the ground as he frantically dodged the pitch.

The ball missed his head by inches.

CRACK!

It slammed into the backstop, splintering wood and sending shards flying. The crowd fell silent for one heartbeat—then exploded.

"HOLY CRAP!"

"DID HE JUST SURRENDER?!"

"BRO PISSED HIS PANTS!"

Landon lay sprawled in the dirt, his chest heaving. A warm trickle seeped down his leg, staining his white baseball pants. 

The stench hit him a second later. No. No, no, NO—

Livestream Comments:

@DeltaQueen: LANDON SHAW JUST PEED HIMSELF ON ESPN 💀💀💀

@GymBro: MAN'S GONNA NEED THERAPY 😂

@CheerCaptain: KATIE WAS THAT YOUR BF?????

Katie's hands flew to her mouth. Her phone buzzed nonstop in her pocket—the sorority group chat blowing up. She didn't need to look to know the messages.

This is my fault. I brought him here. I—

Her phone vibrated again. Reluctantly, she pulled it out.

@Bridgette: KATIE YOUR BF IS TRENDING #PeePantsShaw 😭

@Amber: Did he seriously wet himself??

@DeltaQueen: Answer us!!! Are you still dating him???

Katie's fingers hovered over the screen. Landon was still curled in the dirt, security guards hauling him to his feet. 

Landon's vision blurred. He scrambled to his feet, bat forgotten, and bolted for the dugout. His cleats slipped on the dirt as frat brothers jeered.

"LOOKS LIKE HE'S RUNNING TO MOMMY!" Jake cackled into the camera.

We broke up days ago, she typed. It's over.

She hit send.

The bathroom stall door rattled as someone pounded on it. 

"Pee-Pants! You done crying in there?"

Landon huddled on the toilet, fists clenched. His phone buzzed endlessly—TikTok clips of him wetting himself already viral. 

Frat group chats, X mentions, even his mom's worried texts: "Baby, call me!"

He wanted to scream. To burn the whole world down.

This is HER fault. 

Katie's face flashed in his mind—her pity, her disgust. He'd saved her! When Michael became a sad, one-armed ghost, he was the one who'd made her smile! And now…

A notification popped up:

@KatieRae23: It's over. We're done. 

His vision blurred. He hurled his phone against the wall, shattering it.

…

Michael watched everything unfold expressionlessly. 

The crowd's laughter roared like a tidal wave, but Michael felt nothing. No pity. No triumph. Just cold clarity.

Justice. 

Landon had tried to bunt—to sneak his way to victory, just like he'd sneaked into Katie's life when Michael was at his weakest. But cowards always cracked under pressure.

Not far from them, Lila adjusted her earpiece, the producer's voice screeching: 

"We're trending nationwide! Milk this—it's the underdog story of the decade!"

She thrust her mic at a sobbing sorority girl. 

"What does this moment mean to you?"

"Michael was our guy!" the girl hiccuped. "I never doubted him!"

Lila switched cameras, framing Michael's silhouette against the sunset. Perfect. 

"Viewers, we're witnessing pure defiance! A disabled athlete challenging systemic oppression—and winning!"

The donation counter just flashed over $100k. 

Ms. Greene, however, was in full denial mode.

This is a disaster.

Her nails dug into her clipboard as she watched Mason King step into the batter's box. Her plan was crumbling. 

Michael wasn't just winning—he was humiliating the university. 

And ESPN was eating it up.

She glanced at Coach Harris, who stood pale and silent. 

Her phone buzzed—a call from the university president. She declined it, sweat trickling down her spine. If Michael struck out King…

No. Impossible. King was a pro. A machine. He'd tear Cobb apart.

Her manicured nail hovered over the campus police chief's number. 

One call ends this. But then she will become the most hated person in front of the whole country. 

Wait. Let King crush him. Then she'll get that apology video and spin the narrative: 

"University protects troubled amputee from himself and then gives him an opportunity to shine."