Alex Bregman steps out of a rideshare, a duffel bag slung over his shoulder, glancing up at the stadium’s steel beams disappearing into the low clouds.
Mitch Garver waits near the entrance, hands tucked into his jacket pockets, shifting from foot to foot to ward off the chill.
"Seattle’s always a little colder than Albuquerque, huh?"
"Yeah, but you can’t beat the view—or the coffee. Glad you made it, man."
The two settle into a corner booth, trading stories over plates of grilled salmon and steaming bowls of chowder. Alex Bregman grins as he recounts his World Series win with the Astros, the taste of champagne still vivid in his memory.
"Back-to-back Albuquerque guys winning back-to-back World Series—crazy, right? Feels like we put our hometown on the map."
"It’s wild, man. Last year, though—first time since 2020 no one from Albuquerque was in the Series. That streak had to end sometime, I guess."
Alex[/@ch_1] and Mitch are lost in their own world of memories.]
"You know, I actually became friends with one of my old teachers from Albuquerque Academy. She’s got this bright red Honda CR-V—still drives it to every game when she can."
"That’s awesome. I really miss La Cueva. Honestly, those were some of the best years—playing under the lights on Friday nights, grabbing breakfast burritos before school, just hanging with the guys. I wish I could go back for a day just to relive it."
"Nothing beats a plate of carne adovada from Frontier after a late game. Or hiking up to Sandia Crest when you just need to clear your head."
"I’d kill for a Blake’s Lotaburger right now. And remember the Balloon Fiesta? Those mornings with the sky full of color—you don’t get that anywhere else."
They laugh, the nostalgia warming them more than the café’s heaters.
"I actually played against the Isotopes when I was with Round Rock. Weirdest feeling—being back home, but playing against the team you grew up watching. The stands were full of old friends and family."
"Yeah, it’s surreal. No matter where baseball takes us, Albuquerque’s always part of the story."
Their eyes meet, a silent understanding passing between them—of home, of dreams, and of the journey that brought them both here.
The two stand and gather their things, stepping back into the cool air. As they walk toward the stadium, their conversation blends with the city’s hum—a reminder that wherever the game takes them, they carry Albuquerque with them, stitched into every pitch and every swing.
