John was asking, “What the fuck. You got hit by a pitch, man. What the fuck is wrong with you?”
I pushed them both away from me and shouted, “He’s a fucking bigoted homophobe! And if you all just let it go, none of you are any better.”
My teammates stood in silence staring at me. Before anyone could say anything, the umpire advanced on us and signaled that I was out of the game. Then he said, “And you’re out of the park in five minutes, buddy, or your team forfeits the game.”
The umpire turned around, and I shoved my glove under my arm and headed for the gate. Pete said, “Wait, Blake, let me see if I can do something. Don’t leave yet.”
I turned back around and calmly asked, “What are you gonna do, Pete? Get their pitcher thrown out of the game for harassment and hire a new umpire who isn’t a bigot? You also might want to kick the asses of some of our players for butting into my personal life. If you’re not gonna do all of that, I’m gone. I don’t stick around where I’m not wanted.”
In a weak voice, Pete started to say, “But I can’t…”
I turned around and walked, and I didn’t stop walking until I reached the car. I threw the glove in the back seat and pulled out of the parking lot headed for home.
That’s when the tears started to come. I wasn’t sure exactly what they were related to. I didn’t know if it was because of the hatred I’d just faced, or if it was the fact that I punched someone for the first time since third grade. Maybe it was the fact that I was so disappointed with the baseball league in general, or maybe it was just that I still missed Ian.
Instead of going home, I drove to the Toolbox. Sally was surprised to see me. She said, “Blake, your shift doesn’t start for three hours.” Then she leaned forward and looked closer. “And what happened to your eye? You got in a fight?”
I said, “Yeah, and you don’t wanna know, and I need a drink. Can I just grab a beer and sit in the office with you?”
She smiled warmly. “Yeah, I’ll go grab the beer, and you just sit tight. We can talk when I get back, or you’re welcome to just sit. You’re a good man, Blake. I know that.”
26
Ian
I was still dragging my feet on contacting Blake directly. He was living right next door. All that I needed to do was walk up to the door and knock on it or give him a phone call. Instead, I sat on my hands and hoped that I would just run into him somehow. He stopped even sending me text messages to let me know he wasn’t going to make it to softball practice or the team’s games.
As I said goodbye to Reggie after a team practice, I said, “I’m going to go to one of the baseball games. I want to see Blake play baseball.”
He said, “You do realize you could just call him up, and the two of you could probably ride together.”
I laughed and said, “That would be way too easy.”
“How do you know when and where he plays?” asked Reggie.
“I dug out a little newsletter online about his league. It has brief little articles about most of the games, and, apparently, Blake hit a home run. I figured out the name of his team, and they have a schedule posted online.”
“Do you want me to go with you?” asked Reggie.
I said, “No, I think this is something I have to do for myself. I’ll let you know how it turns out.”
Reggie said, “Give me a call on your way home. I do want to know how it turns out. Is the game tomorrow?”
“Yeah, there’s one tomorrow evening. I’ll give you a call when I’m on my way home, or if I’m hanging out with Blake, whichever of those happens.”
After arriving at the stadium, I settled into a seat on the bleachers. It was a tidy little stadium, and the smell of hot dogs and bratwurst hung in the air. The crowd was not large. It was very easy to find a seat.
Shortly after I sat down, both teams lined up on the field for the national anthem to be played over the PA system. I scanned the teams, and I didn’t see Blake. I checked quickly to make sure I had the right team. I was right about that. I could see the team name printed clearly across the front of the uniforms.
Just a few feet away from me, two skinny high school kids were sitting in the stands together watching the game. I stood up and walked over to join them. I asked, “Do you guys come here for a lot of games?”
One of them piped up and said, “We see almost all of them when we can.”
“Do you know a player named Blake Powell?” I asked.
They looked at each other, and then the taller of the two said, “You must be talking about the Blake that we met. Did he play in minor league baseball?”
I said, “Yeah, that’s him.” I sat down on the bleachers just below the pair. “Do you know why he’s not here tonight?”
They looked at each other again. Then the taller one spoke up again. “Something kind of bad happened in the last game, but I don’t think we should really tell you all about it. You should go talk to somebody on the team if you need to know. I don’t think Blake is coming back.”
The other guy spoke up. “It’s a shame, too. Blake’s a good guy.”
I slapped one of them on the knee. I said, “Thank you, guys. You’ve been really helpful. I’ll head down there and talk to somebody on the team. Do you play baseball in school?”
The taller boy said, “I’m already on the team and my buddy Shane here is working on it.”
I said, “Well, my best wishes to both of you, and I’ve gotta run for now. Take care, guys.”
I bounded down the bleachers and made my way to the far end of the dugout. I stepped up to the opening by the fence and asked the closest player. “Is there someone here I can talk to about Blake Powell?”
There was a sudden silence that spread through the dugout. Everyone froze in place until one player walked up to me. He said, “I’ll meet you outside. We shouldn’t talk in front of everybody else.”
He said his name was Pete. He told me that Blake was a good player, but Blake lost his cool and was thrown off the team and out of the league. The brief description of raging anger didn’t sound like Blake at all to me. I asked, “Can you tell me exactly what happened?”
He shook his head and said, “I really don’t think I can. I respect the privacy of both Blake and the league too much. Did you say you’re a friend of Blake’s?”
I said, “Yeah, I’m actually a neighbor, too.”
Pete stared a little more closely at me and tilted his head to the side. He said, “Hey, weren’t you on that softball team with Blake? I think I recognize you.”
I smiled and said, “Yeah, that’s me. So does that mean you’ll help me out.”
He shook his head. “You told me you’re a friend, neighbor, and he was on your softball team. I think you’ve got plenty of ways to contact Blake and find out more. I really think you should hear it all from his side.”
I said, “It must have been bad for him to get thrown out of the league.”
“Talk to him, and, please, tell him that Pete and John said hi.” Then he turned away and walked back to the dugout.
I returned to my car feeling like I didn’t find out much real information. All that I knew was that Blake wasn’t playing baseball with the league anymore, but a whole set of mysteries popped up about why.
As I drove back home, I realized it was time to try and contact Blake directly. I couldn’t hide behind my fears any more. We needed to talk directly and see if we could patch something up. Perhaps I could at least convince him to come back to the softball team.
When I pulled into my driveway, I saw that the lights were all out at Blake’s house. Then I remembered it was one of his usual nights for work down at the Toolbox. For a moment I considered heading downtown to try and meet him, but I didn’t want to disrupt a night of work.
The next evening would be softball practice. I had all day to get in touch with Blake and ask him if he was planning to attend. I decided to bake a batch of brownies and take it next door in the morning in memory of our first date.
27
Blake
I got question after question about my black eye from customers at the Toolbox. Finally, I adopted a specific stump speech about the incident saying, “Well, you always thought I was a tough guy, didn’t you? If you think this looks bad, you should see the other guy.”
It was one of my biggest tip nights. I wondered If I was getting a sympathy vote because of the black eye. One guy told me, “You look even sexier Blake. A gay man that’s tough. Now that is outstanding.”
I made a doctor’s appointment for early the next morning just to make sure that nothing was seriously injured. Before I left the house, I glanced at the three vintage softballs still lined up on the coffee table and smiled.
With a quick inspection of my facial bones and pressing his fingers against the bruised spots around my eye, the doctor didn’t think x-rays were necessary. He said, “I do suggest that you stay out of fights. It’s so easy to endure a freak injury that can cause permanent damage.” I sighed realizing I knew a thing or two about freak injuries.
As I pulled on my shirt and slipped off the table, I said, “Believe me, Doc, I’m not planning on any more fights.”
I had lunch downtown, and then I spent the rest of the afternoon on or near the beach. I knew that softball practice was in the evening unless they changed something while I was gone. Instead of contacting Ian ahead, I decided that I would just show up at the field. Even if they replaced me, and I couldn’t be on the team anymore, I wanted to see all of the guys. I really missed them.
I was relieved to see at least half the team was already on the field for practice when I pulled up. I got out of the car, slipped my glove on my hand, and did my best to walk up to the field without causing any uproar.
Antonio spotted me first, and I knew that my attempts at a quiet arrival were over. He squealed and called out, “Blake! Our hero is back!” He ran across the field and collided with the gate when he couldn’t pull it open at first. I watched him fumble with the lock and kept walking in his direction.
Antonio practically leapt into my arms. He asked, “Is it really you?”
I laughed and said, “It’s really me, Antonio. Do you think the guys will let me come back?”
“Let you?” he asked. “Oh my God, Blake, we need you!”
Reggie walked up next and he gave me a sly smile saying, “Welcome back, stranger.”
“Where’s Ian?” I asked.
Reggie pointed toward the outfield, and I finally spotted Ian far away discussing something with Billy and pointing at the outfield foul line.
I said, “I guess I’d better ask the manager if I can come back.”
I jogged across the rest of the infield and heard a few of my teammates break into spontaneous applause. When that started, both Ian and Billy looked in my direction. As I approached, I could see a smile on Ian’s face.
Billy spoke first saying, “It’s a good thing we won while you were gone. Did you enjoy your vacation?”
I said, “Believe it or not, I missed you Billy.”
“Awww, I’m flattered,” he said.
I reached my arms out and grabbed Billy for a hug while I looked at Ian. To my surprise, Billy gave me a warm hug back. I said, “We’re going to win by even more now.”
Ian didn’t wait for me to offer him an individual hug. Instead he hugged both of us at the same time. Then Billy said, “Okay, that’s enough of the lovey stuff. Let’s get to some softball.”
As we started to slowly jog back toward the infield, Ian asked, “Are you really back?”
I nodded and said, “I’m really back, and I won’t leave again. I learn from my mistakes.”
The rest of the team gathered around when we reached the infield. Ian raised his hands for everyone to quiet down. He said, “I think I need to ask this before we go any further, but I hope I know the answer.”
I looked around, and I saw smiles on all of the faces.
Ian asked, “Is everyone okay with Blake returning for the rest of the season and taking his usual spot at third base?”
The roar began before Ian finished his words. A single tear welled up in the corner of my right eye and rolled down my cheek. I was welcomed back to the Soft Serves with open arms. Now I just needed to prove that I was still as good of a player as I was before I left.
Ian took us through drills charging ground balls on the infield and catching fly balls in the outfield. He put Billy on the bases to run and then scattered hit balls around to have us try and throw him out.
Finally, he kicked off batting practice. As I watched Lowell and Marshall and Antonio come up to bat, I could see marked improvement from when I was last with the team. Everyone was rid of the rustiness of the off-season and they were playing quality softball.
I stepped up to the plate slightly intimidated by the quality hitting of my teammates. Ian said, “I’ll go easy on you, Blake. We all know you’ve been hitting that smaller ball. It’s about time for you to graduate to the big ball and the sport of kings.”
I laughed out loud, and I tried to concentrate on the bat and the ball. I dug in and watched that slow, loping arc. It was so different from the baseball. I pulled the bat off my shoulder, and then I pulled the trigger and swung too soon. I growled when I missed the ball entirely. I could hear a sigh rise from my teammates.
Loud enough for everyone to hear, I said, “Okay, this is the one. This will be into the outfield at least.”
Ian grinned and threw the ball toward home plate. I held back and at the last minute pulled the string and swung at it. I connected firmly with the ball, and I sent it far into the outfield. Our practice field didn’t have a standard fence, but everyone knew that my hit would have been a home run in the field where we played against other teams.
Antonio surged forward first, and soon I was mobbed by the entire team, including Billy Alvey. His deep voice was heard above the rest when he said, “This is where we kick off the rest of our winning season.”
28
Ian
“Are you sure that you’re okay playing softball and not baseball?” I didn’t really want to ask, but I thought it was an important question.
Blake said, “I’ve learned a really important lesson. No, it’s not just really important. It’s huge. It’s not so much the game itself, Ian. It’s the people that play the game. That’s what makes the game complete.”
We were eating dinner out in our favorite neighborhood Italian restaurant. I said, “I still can’t believe they said what they said to you in the baseball game. That is truly awful.”
He sighed. “And I fell into the trap. I saw it coming. I knew that it would only get worse, but I was enticed by the fact that it was baseball. Now, the important thing to remember is that it wasn’t the fault of the game either. Both baseball and softball are great games, but the people that play them can be very different from each other.”
I reached under the table and placed my hand on Blake’s thigh. I asked, “Have I told you how happy I am that we’re back together, Blake?”
He grinned and said, “Only about five or six times.”
I laughed and asked, “Am I really that bad?”
“You’re not bad at all. In fact, I think it’s kind of perfect. I feel like I was just gone away on a trip for awhile. I guess in some ways I was. At least my head was gone on a trip. How was the date with Marshall?”
My mouth dropped open. “How do you know about that?”
He laughed softly and said, “Reggie likes to share.”
I said, “I’m so sorry about the date with Marshall. That was me at my craziest while you were gone. I was so lucky that he turned out to be a perfect gentleman.”
Blake slowly shook his head and said, “Don’t worry about it. I was starting to wonder if I should find somebody, too. It seemed like we had such a huge wall between us built right down the middle of the driveway or something. Reggie said you and Marshall didn’t do anything together.” Then Blake leaned in close to me and a
sked, “Did you?”
I shook my head. “I didn’t even get to see any more than what all of the rest of you see on the softball field. I didn’t get a kiss goodnight.”
Blake leaned close to me and we gave each other a quick kiss. I squeezed his thigh and let my fingers move an inch or two further up his leg. He said, “Just don’t get us thrown out of the restaurant. I’m hungry.”
We both ordered spaghetti, and I suggested that we try the classic Lady and the Tramp scene eating each end of the noodle, but Blake shook his head. He said, “Let’s just imagine it and sometime we can try it at home.”
I couldn’t wait to get home from dinner. We decided to go to my house, and Blake followed me to the kitchen door leaning up against my back and exhaling on to my neck. I fumbled with the keys and finally got the right one in the lock. It turned and the door opened. Blake stepped forward pushing me into the house, and he shut the door behind us.
He sighed heavily and said, “I’ve been waiting weeks for this.”
I was backed up against the sink when his lips pressed hard against mine. He pushed his hand between us and closed his fingers tight around my already throbbing cock while his tongue pushed between my lips. Blake was taking complete control, and I was ecstatic about letting him have it.
We left a trail of clothing through the kitchen and across the living room. We didn’t make it up the stairs. Instead we both landed naked on the sofa. I was lying on my back and smiled up at the most handsome man I’ve ever seen. I asked, “Do you need help fucking me this time?”
He laughed and said, “I think I’ve got it.” Blake reached down to his jeans lying on the floor and pulled out a condom. Within seconds he was ready, and I was more than ready.
I pulled my legs apart and back toward my chest while staring at Blake’s body. His smooth skin covered sculpted muscle and those dark eyes smoldered with desire. I gasped with surprise when he stuck his index finger into his mouth slowly drawing it forward and back moistening it, and then he traced a slow circle with the tip around my hole.
Complete Game: The League, Book 1 Page 14
