I said, “Yeah, in the minors ,we would be out on the field already taking batting practice or throwing the ball around in the outfield. I loved some things about it, but a lot of it was just really tough, grinding work.”
Ian said, “I couldn’t wait to get out of a cubicle. I hope I never need to go back. “
Then I asked, “So what is your big dream, Ian? I mean, beyond here. Or is there one? Are you expecting to live here forever?”
Ian laughed.
“Is there something funny about that?” I asked.
“Well, would you want to be in this little house in this little neighborhood forever? It’s nice, and a good part of the city for living, but there are better places. Certainly, there is better weather.”
“So where is the dream, Ian?”
He said, “Sometimes I think it would be great to go somewhere like Portland or Seattle, and then I think overseas is the way to go. Lots of guys like me ust work on the computer and go places like Thailand or Bali in Indonesia. They don’t have to live anywhere in particular.”
My eyes opened wide. “You would go somewhere like that? I’ve never been out of the country.”
“Not even Canada?” asked Ian.
I said, “Nope. My family went to southern California one time and the San Diego Zoo. My sister and I wanted to go cross the border into Mexico, but my parents said no. That’s the closest I’ve ever come. I wanted to travel with the major league salary, but that didn’t happen.”
Ian asked, “So when I have the money saved up, will you come with me, Blake?”
“Come with you? Where?”
“Traveling the world,” said Ian. “Anywhere we want to go.”
I said, “I’ll be right at your side. I think I’ve already bought the ticket.”
* * *
The Soft Serves were on a roll. We lost our second game, but then we won two more in a row. Reggie said that we were tied with the most games the team won in a year in its history. We were guaranteed playing a minimum of twenty games for the season. I thought about year after year of losing more than fifteen games. I couldn’t imagine slogging through it without getting down, but my teammates carried it off with style. I was learning more and more about playing just for the love of the game.
Billy Alvey and I continued to butt heads from time to time. I was still closeted to my teammates. Ian and I treated each other like buddies at practice and when playing games. Billy caught me staring at Ian, and asked, “Are you sure you’re not just a little bent, Powell?” as we jogged toward the dugout.
I asked, “Are you a little jealous, Billy? Would you like me to stare at you instead?”
Despite our banter, we played off each other perfectly as teammates. I settled into the #3 batting position in the lineup, and Billy was our #4 cleanup. I swung less for home runs knowing that he was there to back me up, and he got to drive in more runs. I could feel something like a cockeyed friendship grow out of the mutual respect for each other’s talents on the field.
I don’t know why, exactly, but I was surprised to find out that Antonio was married, and just two years ago he lived in southern California. A handsome, immaculately dressed white man appeared to pick Antonio up after a practice session, and he said, “Blake, I want you to meet my man, Lex.” Antonio’s husband was quiet, but I could see something mischievous in his eyes. That must have been what drew him to Antonio.
As I got to know my teammates even better, I felt more and more conflict about them not knowing my relationship with Ian. I asked him about it, and Ian just said, “Take your time. We’re not in a rush. You will know when’s the right time to let everyone else know.”
I could feel myself start to make it all into a bigger issue than it deserved to be. As we sat in the dugout together, I wanted to throw my arms around Ian and give him a kiss like we would at home. I felt even more strongly that way when we won a game. There was no need for anyone to know, but I wanted them to know. I wanted them to be happy for me or envious of me, whichever way their internal emotions took them. Instead, to most of them I was just the straight guy who liked the relaxed, lighthearted atmosphere of gay softball.
* * *
Ian was searing a pair of fish filets on the stovetop at my house while I set the kitchen table with plates and silverware. I was brewing a pitcher of iced tea, and my stomach was starting to rumble in anticipation of the meal. Then a knock came at the kitchen door. I jumped briefly. I didn’t get many visitors at my house.
Approaching the door, I saw Reggie staring in at me. When I pulled open the door, he said, “Yum, something smells good.” Then he added, “Guys, I’m getting tired of going solo. Are you both turning into domestic vegetables?”
While Ian flipped one of the filets, he said, “Awww, come on in Reggie, these are big enough that I can divide them up into three plates.”
He said, “You don’t have to. I really didn’t mean to barge in on your dinner.”
I said, “Go ahead and barge. I guess we are being a little withdrawn. I go to work at the bar and then I spend the rest of the day in my house or Ian’s house.”
“Are you sure you’re not just jealous, Reggie?” asked Ian.
“Who, me?” He reached up and ran his fingers through his coarse, wavy hair. “Okay, yeah, maybe a little, but you both are actually giving me some inspiration. I put up a profile on a dating site again. I thought maybe I could see a few guys and have some fun before Connor gets home in the fall.”
I put an arm around his shoulder. “That’s great. Any interesting nibbles?”
“Mostly just creepy ones so far,” said Reggie. “You know the type. ‘I really love your eyes. They make me wanna…,’ or, ‘You look like the guy I wanna take with me to live in Borneo…tomorrow.”
Ian giggled. “You do like to travel. You’ve said that to me before.”
Reggie seated himself at the table. “I am really happy for the two of you. You look great together, and I hope I’m the best man in the wedding someday. Remember that. I’m first in line.”
Ian laughed again. He said, “I think you’re gonna have to wait awhile for that, Reggie. We haven’t heard the wedding bells in the distance yet.”
Reggie winked and said, “Maybe you’re not listening close enough.”
14
Ian
Even though we lost one of our games, we still hadn’t faced the toughest teams in the league. Five games in, I tried to prepare my teammates for a seriously tough match.
Marshall said, “I looked back at last year. We lost against this team 15-1.”
“Ouch!” blurted out Antonio.
I said, “We’re an entirely different team this year. We can win this. They barely escaped in their last game winning by only one run. We can do this, guys! They are power hitters, so everybody will need to drift back further than normal, but focus and we can do it.”
When the game rolled around, everybody showed up to play. In the first inning alone, Antonio made two great plays snagging fast ground balls to his left and right throwing the batter out at first. For the third out, Marshall made a solid catch in the outfield just in front of the fence.
Unfortunately, their team was just as hyped as we were. I chatted briefly with their pitcher, a hulking, bearish guy named Leo, before the game, and he said they were keeping an eye on us as spoilers in the season. I asked, “Spoilers? You don’t think we can win it all?”
Then he clapped a big paw across my shoulders and tilted his head to the right saying, “Nothing at all personal, but I think our experience can trump your enthusiasm. You’re on the rise for sure, but this can’t be your year.”
I repeated his words to the team in the dugout before the game. Antonio just asked, “Overconfident much?”
I watched Blake, and he was methodically slapping his fist into his glove. We were all ready, and we had a fighting chance.
In the bottom half of the first inning, we went three up three down just like our opponents, but the second i
nning was better. They stranded two guys on base and failed to score, but Billy stepped up to the plate as our first batter and corked the ball over the fence. The dugout erupted in pandemonium. Reggie immediately reminded us that we were making history. The Soft Serves were never ahead of these opponents at any time in the past.
Unfortunately, they stormed right back and scored a run with a two out single and the runner from third sliding just under Blake’s throw home to Reggie. I felt like my entire body groaned. It was going to be a tough game.
Two innings later when we returned to the dugout in a 3-3 tie, I saw Blake and Billy pull themselves away from the rest of the team and huddle in a corner. Then I cheered with everyone else when Blake poked a single between first and second. As Billy stepped up to the plate, Blake leaned so far toward second base that he convinced the other team he was going to attempt a steal. It caused their fielders to drift in toward home plate just enough that Billy landed a perfect hit over the head of the first baseman rolling toward the corner of the outfield. Blake scored, and Billy ended up with a stand-up triple.
As Blake jogged back to the dugout to receive a rousing round of slaps on the back from his teammates, I saw him look down the third-base line. I followed his gaze and saw two athletic-looking guys about our age hanging just outside the fence along the right-field foul line. They were dressed in jeans and T-Shirts, and I watched as one of them nodded toward Blake and then gestured for him to head in their direction.
Blake enjoyed three more hugs from the team, and then he excused himself from the dugout to trot partway down the outside of the fence and meet the two men. I felt a twinge inside, and I didn’t know exactly what it was. I guessed that it was mostly curiosity and frustration that anyone was distracting Blake from the game.
The inning turned into a big one, and I came up to the plate as our seventh batter in the inning. Two guys were on base, and I had the opportunity to pad our lead. A big lollipop of a pitch sailed in my direction, and I promptly sent it sailing into right center.
It was enough of a line drive that it dropped to the ground in front of the center fielder, and a slight bobble left the ball rolling to the fence. Two more runs scored, and I was standing on third base with an easy triple just like Billy earlier in the inning.
When I looked toward the dugout, I noticed that Blake was back with the team, and the strangers were nowhere to be seen. He was rattling the fence in front of the dugout just like half of the rest of the team. I smiled and gave my teammates the thumbs up just before turning my attention to the pitcher’s mound and seeing the scowl on our opponent’s face.
After the half inning finally came to a close with our third out, I gathered the team around before we took the field. I said, “We’ve got the solid lead. Now is NOT the time to let up. We’ve got this, guys. Stay focused! Let’s go bring this one home!”
While my teammates started to file out of the dugout, I looked at Blake, and I wanted to kiss him so badly. For the first time, I felt an ache in my gut at the fact that I couldn’t let anyone on the team but Reggie know.
Then I tried to push it out of my mind, and I followed the rest of the team to the field. Reggie tossed me the ball, and I started my warm-ups. I needed to follow the advice I was giving my teammates. It was not time to let up. We had a game to win. I indulged in reflective thoughts just briefly to realize how much difference just one short year and one major change in players made for our team. We were winners.
* * *
We weathered a few more threats to the lead in the rest of the game, but in the end it was a relatively easy 8-5 victory. We celebrated with hugs, back slaps, and finally a pile of writhing bodies on the ground over the pitcher’s mound. I laughed out loud when Reggie gave me a teasing grope.
After we all brushed ourselves off and headed off the field, I asked Blake who the guys were that hung out at the edge of the field looking to speak with him. He said, “Oh, nobody in particular. They were just guys. They congratulated me on how I was playing. They said I looked like a pro.”
“And that’s all they wanted?” I asked.
He gave me a shrug but didn’t respond with words. It was obvious that I wasn’t supposed to continue with my line of questioning. Instead, I threw an arm around his shoulders and made sure our teammates heard that I was talking about the game. I knew that we could do our own private celebration once we got home.
When I pulled away from the softball field into traffic, I asked Blake, “Are they guys that you met at the bar? We don’t seem to get many people who just stop in to see games. They are usually friends or relatives.”
Blake sighed heavily, and I noticed that he still had his glove on his left hand. He pounded his right fist into the glove and waited a full thirty seconds before he answered. He said, “No, I never met them before, but they were making nice compliments. It was sort of like when I played in the minors. There were people who noticed, and when someone compliments me like that, I listen and then I’m happy to talk with them for a little while. I’m sorry if you were worried that I was distracted from the game.” I turned toward him and asked, “Do you really need to know exactly what they said?”
I could feel the tension growing in the car, and I backed off. I said, “No, that’s okay. I was just curious. That’s all. Reggie said the team is getting together at the Toolbox later. I forgot whether you have to work tonight or not.”
Blake said, “I’m off. We could head down there if you would like. That might be relaxing. Sally would appreciate the business.”
I could hear Blake start to relax again. I didn’t like the feeling of tension between us. It was something new, and in a few short minutes, it was unpleasant. The bar was going to be a nice way to unwind. I said, “Okay, and I’ll call Reggie. If he rides with us, then he can drink to his heart’s content. You know, Blake, you were a big reason why we won today.”
He said, “Billy really put on a big show.”
I added, “You’ve been a huge catalyst for him. He was good last year, but with you on the team, he’s even better. I don’t know if it’s a competitive spirit or it’s working together, but it really is great to see.”
15
Blake
I felt guilty not answering Ian’s questions. Keeping secrets was the last road that I wanted to go down so early in our relationship. I watched my parents do the same thing over and over again, and it eventually got very ugly. Unfortunately, I couldn’t figure out how to adequately explain before I found out more myself.
The two men were players in one of the adult baseball leagues in the city. One was named Pete and the other was John. They said a mutual friend who followed baseball obsessively and first encountered my name while keeping track of minor league baseball mentioned that I might be back in Milwaukee. After some sleuthing work, they were able to find me playing on the gay softball team. By the time they left our game, I had an invitation to check out their team across town.
I thought about telling Ian immediately what was going on, but I was worried that he would get nervous about me talking to baseball guys again, particularly those playing on a team and looking for more talent. I told Pete and John that I couldn’t promise anything at all. I was willing to come and watch their team play, but that was it. I said that I liked playing for the Soft Serves.
John said, “But it’s softball, bud.”
Pete elbowed him in the gut just as I said, “I’m going to come and watch you play. Can you be satisfied with that?”
Pete said, “He will be. Sometimes John just runs his mouth off when it’s not needed.” Pete handed me a card with his cell phone number and said, “Give me a text, and I’ll give you details on the next game.”
That night, after we got home from the Toolbox, I climbed into bed next to Ian. We were both exhausted from the day, but we still had a little time for making out and fooling around. Ian said, “I think you just might be the most amazing thing that’s ever happened to me, Blake.”
I said,
“You’re pretty damn awesome yourself.” Then my gut twisted into a knot. I shared a goodnight kiss with Ian, and slid up behind him as we lay on our sides. I wrapped my arms around him and felt his breath slow until he was sound asleep.
Leaning my head in against his neck, my thoughts drifted to the game earlier in the day. I thought of the massive group hug with the team and then tumbling to the ground in one big heap of men. It made me smile.
I also thought about my shortened career in the baseball minors. I could hear the roar of the crowd and the smell of hot dogs and popcorn. I knew that I would never return to play in a game at that level of professional significance, but I wondered if it was time to consider a return to the baseball diamond.
The next day I contacted Pete and made the specific arrangements to attend a game. I decided to combine seeing them play early in the evening with a night of work at the Toolbox. I told Ian that I needed to leave a few hours early, right after dinner, and he didn’t seem to suspect anything at all was amiss.
Pete and John played on a field on the other side of town. It was recently constructed in an effort to recreate professional baseball as closely as possible on a much smaller scale. The field was part of a sports complex. The main diamond included stands that I guessed could hold maybe one thousand spectators. Less elaborate practice fields were constructed nearby.
The dugouts looked similar to those at a minor league stadium, and the team uniforms replicated the professional style. I could feel small goosebumps on my arms as I watched the teams warming up on the field.
I took a seat in the stands along the first base line. The crowd was small. I don’t think it exceeded 150 or 200. As one of the teams filed into the visitors dugout, I caught the eye of Pete. He motioned toward the outfield with his head, and I climbed down the stands to step up to the fence just beyond the dugout.
Complete Game: The League, Book 1 Page 9
