by Celia Aaron
“So why are you here?” He turned the warm smile on me.
A draft from the vent on the floor reminded me of the fact I was free balling, and a slight shudder rippled through me.
“Knee.” I pointed at my leg. “The usual.”
“Those do seem to be a problem with you catchers. How long has it been hurting?”
Nikki nudged me with a sharp elbow. I knew better than to lie. “A few weeks.”
“Tell me what happened.”
“I ripped a liner to left. All was fine the first few steps to first, and then—” I took in a long breath through my nose. “I felt a small pop, and pain radiated through my whole leg. It kind of went numb for a second.”
“Hmm, I see.” Doc reached down and lifted my gown enough to expose my knee.
“It’s been getting worse. I can barely walk on it anymore.”
“And you kept playing on it, didn’t you? Despite the pain?” He shot me a hard glance.
“Yeah. It was stupid, I know.”
“Well, you guys have a lot on the line with your bodies. You’re not the only athlete to play hurt. Don’t be too hard on yourself.”
I grinned, and Nikki glared at Doc. He must have sensed her frustration, because his tone changed. “Don’t get me wrong. It would’ve been better to come in right when it happened. I don’t want you to make a habit of this.”
“So what do you think is wrong?” Nikki folded her arms across her chest.
“Why don’t you lie down, Braden, and let me feel around on it. If you don’t mind.”
Nikki snorted. “Sorry. Sorry.”
I cracked a smile, loving every bit of her dirty mind. Pushing myself all the way up on the table, I laid on my back as Doc prodded my knee from every angle and watched my reactions. He gripped the ball of my foot, his other hand around my knee, and twisted my leg.
“Fucking, Christ!” I gripped the side of the exam table and winced.
“Okay. Sorry. I’m done.” He released his hold on my leg.
“Is it bad?” Nikki cringed.
“Here’s the thing, guys—knees are funny. There are a lot of things going on in there with every little movement. We need an MRI to know for sure.” Doc glanced over at Nikki.
She didn’t appear satisfied with his response. “Any ballpark guess?” She made air quotes with her fingers when she said “ballpark.”
“It’s probably your ACL. The pop you felt has me concerned that a ligament snapped or tore. But the fact it wasn’t more pronounced gives me hope it might be less serious. I really don’t feel comfortable guessing until I can see what’s going on in there. It could’ve been that his knee just rolled out of place for a second, maybe stretched a few things out. He could’ve stepped on something in the base path and it’s just bruised. So we just have to wait and see.”
I sat up straight, but kept my eyes locked on the floor. “I’m done. It’s all going to be over.”
Nik scooted closer to me and ran her fingers down the back of my arm. “That’s not what he said. There’s a chance. Right, Doc?”
“I need to order the MRI. I’ll get you in right now. I know there’s a radiologist on duty who can read it. We can get results in the next thirty minutes or so. Okay?”
I tilted my head up to Nik’s face and then turned to Doc and nodded. “Okay. Let’s do it.”
“These things usually take weeks, and we’re going to find out in thirty minutes. We’re doing the best we can, so please just be patient a little while longer.”
“Thanks, Doc.”
The next thirty minutes was going to be the most torturous span of time in my life.
The end of my career was all I could think about as I sat on the cold metal in front of the big fucking machine. I had to take my mind off of it somehow as I laid down flat on my back. “Don’t be getting all jealous now.”
Nik stared back at me, puzzled. “What?”
I glanced to the MRI machine. “They’re about to shove me all slow-like into this giant pussy magnet. I just want you to know that it’s not by choice. I’m doing this because it’s what you wanted.” I gave a thumbs up to the giant metal box. “Been called a pussy magnet a time or two in my life too.”
Nik snorted. “MRI pussy jokes, huh? You cheating bastard. How could you?”
“Just taking one for the team, baby. I’m doing this out of love.”
The machine fired up and started to whir.
“Please hold still.” It was the tech person’s voice. “We’re just taking you in past the knee, that’s it.”
“Hear that, babe? Just the tip. Just for a second. Just to see how it feels.” I stiffened my toes to the sound of Nik’s giggling. We’d watched Wedding Crashers so Nik was now in on the jokes. “In and out all quick-like. Just a teaser.”
The mechanical table moved me in and out a few times before the machine shut down. The tech walked around and helped me up before leading Nikki and I back to the same waiting room.
What was probably fifteen minutes seemed like hours as we waited for the doctor to return. Nikki was uncharacteristically silent as she sat next to me on the exam table. But she kept my hand in hers and leaned into me, giving support without saying a word. I’d told myself I wouldn’t worry about anything until I knew what I was up against. It was silly to do otherwise.
Nikki and I jolted upright when we heard the door handle rattle. The doctor strolled in with a file full of pictures. Nikki’s tiny hand squeezed around mine.
“It’s good news, Braden.”
Nikki and I both let out huge sighs. I turned and smiled at her.
“Well, not great news, but good. There’s no visible ligaments that are detached or torn.”
“Awesome!” Nikki squealed and clapped for a moment.
“Just, hang on a second, okay? I can see where your MCL is stretched though. It’s most likely strained. That’s what’s causing you so much discomfort. There are a lot of nerves that run through that area of the knee. Playing hurt isn’t helping it heal at all. It needs to tighten back up.” He held up his hand and made a fist. “I don’t know how you’ve managed the pain this long without resting. So I’m sorry to tell you this, but the season is over for you. It’ll take several months to rehab it back to normal.”
It was like a ton of bricks crushed me in the chest. My lungs deflated, and I dropped my face into my palms.
“Wait? You just said it wasn’t torn. That everything was good. You said that right?” Nikki turned to me. “I heard him say everything was fine. It was good news.”
I could hear Nikki’s scolding tone, but I couldn’t bear the thought of looking at her. Tears started to well in my eyes, because I knew the one big truth with the people in the front office. It was all about perception. I was already a liability, and they would use any excuse they could to cut me loose. At best, they’d use it as leverage to pay me less on my next contract.
I finally lifted my head to the Doc and stared into his eyes. “So that’s it? Has to be for the season?”
He placed a hand on my shoulder and squeezed. “I’m afraid so, son.”
Nikki wrapped her arms around me. I caught her scowling at the doctor. It made me grin, knowing how much she wanted me to succeed and be healthy.
“It’s okay, babe. He’s just doing his job.” My words had no effect, and Doc was kind enough to still be respectful.
“I’m sorry, Nikki. If I could fix him right now, I definitely would. I promise. I’ll give you guys a minute. Braden, I’m going to write up a prescription to manage the pain, and you need to start rehab as soon as possible. I’ll get you all the information and bring in a brace.”
“Thanks again, Doc.”
After the door closed, and Doc had left the room, Nikki sniffled. “We’ll get a second opinion. He doesn’t know shit.”
I chuckled. “Babe, he’s the leading knee specialist in the world.” Somehow, I thought she might be more upset than I was. I’d expected worse news.
“Well—I
just—there’s someone better than him out there. And we’ll find them today. I don’t care.”
I grabbed her by the arms and turned her to face me. Her eyes misted and her face tinged with a light pink. “It’s okay. I’ll deal. Somehow.”
“Braden—” She placed her palms on my cheeks. “—you need to let it out. Don’t do what you always do. This has to be torture for you.”
I looked away and exhaled a long breath. “I know. You’re right.” I turned back to face her. “I’m fucking scared, babe. What if this is it? What if I never get to play ball again?” I nuzzled into her shoulder. It all hit me at once—anger, frustration, and sadness. I wanted to crawl into the corner and die, and at the same time I wanted to burn the building to the ground. I stared long and hard at her and the tears started to stream down my cheeks. “D-don’t tell Easton.”
“What? Why?” Nik’s eyes widened at my words.
I wiped away the tears with my forearm. “He’ll do something crazy. He might jeopardize his career. I can’t let him do that. I’ll tell him when the time is right. Just not now. Not until we know what’s going to happen.”
“Okay, babe. I’ll do whatever you want. You know that.” Nikki dragged her nails up and down my tricep.
“Can you bring me my phone? I need to text Coach.”
“Sure.” She hustled over and then returned with my phone.
I took it.
Me: Strained MCL. Out for season. A blowie would help ease the pain.
While I was chuckling, I caught Nikki leaning over my shoulder, reading my message.
“You two are ridiculous.” She paced around the room.
All I could think about was leaving the team, leaving my city. I wouldn’t even be able to fuck around with Coach anymore. I’d still be able to text him, but it wouldn’t be the same. He was my mentor and a great friend. My phone vibrated in my hand.
Coach: I’m sorry. We’ll figure it out. I need to meet with you as soon as you leave there. Can you come by the clubhouse?
Me: Sure
“I need to meet with Coach. Let’s get out of here.”
“Okay, babe.” Nikki grabbed my arm like I was wheelchair bound to help me off the exam table.
I had all but my jeans on when Doc opened the door. “Hey, we need to put a brace on that knee. Give it some support.”
“Good timing.” I pushed myself up onto the examination table.
“I don’t have to tell you how to use one of these.” He made quick work of strapping everything into place.
“Nope. I’m indeed familiar.”
“Thought so. I sent the paperwork over to the physical therapist’s office. Let’s do another appointment in two weeks to check your progress.”
I stared at the floor, defeated. “Sounds good.”
BRADEN
I WALKED THROUGH the door to Coach’s office and sat down in a chair in front of his desk. “So, about that blowie?” I made a show of starting to unzip my pants.
Coach shook his head and smiled. “You’re such a little shit.”
I sensed the goodbye speech was coming soon. Coach started to say something when his eyes grew big, and his face wrinkled. He stared at the door behind me. “What do you want?”
I whipped around, and Ingram was standing there with a smug grin on his face.
“Braden, we need a word with you upstairs.” Ingram glared at Coach, but the corners of his lips turned up in the slightest hint of a smile. “Alone.”
“The fuck he’s going alone.” Coach sprang up from his chair. “What’s this about?”
“It’s none of your concern, Coach.” Ingram smirked. “It’s a need-to-know meeting. And all you need to know is how to put together a winning team with the tools we provide you. This is outside of your domain.”
Coach marched around me and was in Ingram’s face in a heartbeat. “You’re a little prick. You know that? Don’t think you’re going to walk in here and bully me and my players, asshole. I have a contract, and I have lawyers who know how to read the fucking thing. You’re stuck with me for at least three more years. Now take your little spreadsheets and math, and get the fuck out of my office before I shove your head so far up your ass you enjoy yesterday’s lunch for a second time.”
“Threats of assault, weak one-liners.” Ingram held his hand up and mocked Coach’s rant by opening and closing his fingers against his thumb. “Get some new material, old man.”
The asshole put his hand on my shoulder, and I wanted to crush his goddamn knuckles.
“Braden, we need a word. As soon as you and Coach are finished.”
Coach started to talk and I held up my hand. “It’s fine, Coach.” I moved my gaze to Ingram. “I’ll be up in a minute.”
“Hurry it up.” Ingram made sure to chuckle at Coach before he walked out of the room.
I stood outside the large, wooden door to Ingram’s office before finally pushing it open. My heart dropped into my stomach when I saw the owners and higher-ups of the organization sitting around a conference table. They were all staring at me.
I glanced around the room at the ornate woodwork and fancy furniture. These assholes were so out of touch with the team. It was no wonder they made piss poor decisions constantly. But what did I know? I was an uneducated ballplayer, not a Harvard MBA.
Instinctively, I tried to hide my limp, but realized the show was over when I looked around. I hobbled to the open chair on my side of the table.
“Braden, have a seat.” Ingram had a wide smile affixed to his smug face.
I couldn’t burn any bridges in case there was still hope they were going to keep me around. I’d be a fucking backup bullpen catcher for peanuts if it meant I could still come to the field every day.
I turned to the owner. “Art.” I gave him a quick nod that he returned. “Jerry, Sam, Chris.” I shook hands with a few who stood to greet me before I took my seat.
“We know about the knee.” Ingram didn’t waste any time getting to business.
“Yeah, I just got back from the—”
“It’s irrelevant.” Ingram cut me off and waved a hand in the air before I could finish my sentence.
I sensed tension in the room. I’d been a franchise player for seven seasons with the Ravens, ever since I’d been drafted. Many fans and commentators called me the face of the team. I knew most of these guys’ families. I’d been to their houses for dinner and helped with their kids’ little league teams. Ingram was the only one I didn’t have a personal connection with.
“You haven’t put up the numbers we need, all season. All of your stats are down. Now with the knee, you’re even more of a liability. So we—”
A commotion rang out in the hallway. It was Ingram’s secretary’s voice. Her stern yells grew clearer with each second that passed. “They are in a meeting. I was told they were not to be disturbed. You can’t just barge—”
“Get out of my way or I’ll move you, Margaret!” Coach’s voice. He burst through the door. His face was fiery red, and veins bulged from his neck. “This whole meeting in here is bull-fucking-shit, Ingram.” Coach’s head was on a swivel, eyeing every other face in the room. “And the rest of you goddamn know it. I’ve never been so ashamed to be a part of this organization. And I’ve been with you for fifteen fucking years.”
“Coach, don’t.” I shook my head at him. I knew what he was doing. It wasn’t worth it. It’d only mean both of us looking for a job instead of just me. We both knew what they were about to tell me. “It’s not worth it. Just go cool off.”
“See what I mean?” Ingram shrugged at the other guys in the room. “His own player gives better advice than he does.” Ingram scoffed and turned his back to Coach.
“You little maggot-shitting cocksucker. I don’t give a fuck if I lose my job. If he goes—” Coach shot a finger in my direction. “Then I go. See, that’s your problem, you arrogant little prick. You want to quantify baseball and put everything in a pretty little number box. Baseball isn’t an exac
t science. It’s an art. That kid’s leadership, attitude, and character are more valuable than any spreadsheet you can build. But you’re such a pompous dick face that you can’t see any of it through your massive ego.”
“Coach. Please. Just go. I can handle this.” He was going to lose his job, and it was all because of me.
“You shut it, Braden. This isn’t about you. It’s about his problem with me.” He glared down the long table at Ingram. “He doesn’t like the fact that I have a contract he can’t touch. I’m a thorn in his side. And while he might not think that you and I are worth our money, the others in this room do. They know it. And it’s keeping him from getting what he wants.”
“You think you’re irreplaceable? You’re a dinosaur. Go on then. You can go with Braden wherever you want and be mediocre together for all I care.” Ingram belted out a laugh. “You have no leverage here, Coach.”
“I do.”
Every head in the room whipped around to the giant that filled the entire door frame.
“This doesn’t concern you, Holliday. This is a closed meeting.” Ingram frowned.
Easton stalked toward Ingram. Fuck.
I shook my head. “E, you shouldn’t be here, man.”
Easton stopped next to me. I stared up at him, silently telling him to not make a scene while simultaneously swelling with gratitude that he’d even attempt it.
He paused for a brief moment, glancing down at me. “No, you shouldn’t be here.”
I turned away, and caught Coach grinning his dick off at Ingram. He probably hoped Easton was about to pummel his face. Instead, Easton marched over and stood a few feet away from Ingram and folded his arms across his broad chest. He leaned down so that they were nose to nose and jabbed Ingram’s chest with his index finger. “If he goes, I go.”
Ingram chuckled. “You have a contract. Don’t be stupid, Holliday. You just signed a new one before the season.”
