Wild Pitch

by Sloan Johnson

  “Ugh, don’t remind me,” he bemoaned. I held the door open for him and stifled my laughs as I watched him sulk back to the table. I noticed as we sat that my dad had ordered Sean a tall glass of juice, some toast, and a simple fruit plate to replace the veggie omelet there was no way he’d be able to eat. Sean muttered his appreciation before shrinking back into his seat while he ate. As soon Sean shoved the last piece of toast into his mouth, my dad offered to settle the tab while Sean and I walked to the Jeep.

  “Feeling better?” I asked, resisting the urge to wrap my arm around his waist. We stopped at the back of my Jeep and I couldn’t resist reaching up to smooth out his shirt. If anyone noticed, I’d gladly tell the world that Sean was hungover beyond belief and needed the help to look presentable. Luckily, a quick glance around showed me that we were alone on the side street.

  “A bit,” he admitted. “If I tell you I’m going out drinking with the guys, remind me of this.”

  I laughed, knowing that wouldn’t be necessary. I doubted he’d touch anything stronger than soda for the next month. “What happened last night? When we talked, you said you were going to make an appearance and then head upstairs.”

  “Green came down and invited himself to sit with us,” Sean told me, his mouth puckered in dismay. “I couldn’t exactly be an asshole, but it still chaps my ass that they put him up in a suite before the deal was even final. It pisses me off to no end that the team flew him in so he’d be ready the second the paperwork was signed, but the more we drank, the more I realized he’s not the same asshole he was a few years ago. It’s like we traded places or something. I’m the prick and he’s the team player.”

  “Nah, but he likely grew up and realized that no one is indispensable, and you were upset that him joining the team meant Eric left. It’s understandable,” I explained. The stars were definitely in some odd alignment, because this now made twice that I was the voice of reason. That had always been Sean’s job, while I was the flighty, emotional one in our friendship.

  “I guess,” Sean conceded. I heard my parents walking down the street, so I motioned for Sean to get in the Jeep. Once I was sitting, he reached for my hand. “Then again, if Eric hadn’t left, we might not have figured this out.”

  “I’ll guarantee it,” I agreed with him. “Look, we have about twenty seconds left, so I’m going to be fast. I don’t regret what happened, and I won’t after today. I’ll text you the dates I found that we could get together, either at your place or at mine. We’ll figure out the rest when we have time. Okay?”

  Sean lifted my hand to his mouth and gently kissed the backs of my fingers. “Thanks, Mace. I know I give you shit about being the goofball, but you’re a good guy.”

  The back door opened and our private time was over. My parents both got out of the Jeep to say goodbye to Sean back at the hotel, and told him to keep in touch with them, even when I was on the road. By the time Dad slid into the front seat with Mom behind him, I was certain that Sean was going to have two more people cheering for him at his home games from now on.

  Chapter 7

  The series against Boston was off to a brutal start. It was a case of playing our absolute best against a team that made us look like little leaguers. The only thing that kept me from getting totally down on my own performance was the annoyingly cute messages Mason sent me before, during, and after the game. He’d caught most of it from his hotel room, because ours was a day game and his wasn’t until that night, and when I turned on my phone, there was a running commentary. What made me laugh were the messages giving me his insight into the batters I was going to face, as if I could have pulled the phone out while I was on the mound.

  Me: Thanks for the info. Next time, send that before the game so I’ll know going in. Hope you do better against Ortiz than you did our guys. Call me when you get back tonight.

  I quickly changed while Kevin was in the bathroom so we’d be ready to head down for dinner. I still hated him a bit for contributing to me getting annihilated the other night, but it didn’t take long for me to realize that he really was a good guy. He’d never replace Eric, but I supposed that was perfectly fine by me now that I had Mason. I flipped my phone over in my hand, wondering what in the hell was taking Kevin so long, and nearly dropped it when my phone rang.

  “Hey, I thought you’d be at the park by now,” I answered, allowing a wide grin to spread across my face.

  “You know, you’re pretty funny for a guy who got his ass handed to him today,” Mason goaded me. I didn’t argue with him since I’d given up six runs and eight hits in four and two-thirds innings.

  “What can I say? It’s hard to be perfect all the time.” Mason’s cocky confidence was clearly rubbing off on me, because perfect was the last word I would ever use to describe my performance so far this year. “Are you still at the hotel?”

  I hated trying to figure out what time it was in Arizona, because the state couldn’t be like the other forty-nine, so it varied and I never remembered what part of the year was which time zone.

  “No, we’re just pulling into the parking lot. Time to head in and train for a bit before batting practice. I tweaked something last night, so we’re going to take a look at my leg.” He hadn’t mentioned anything last night when we’d talked, so I wondered if this was something he noticed when he woke up or if he hadn’t realized it might be something more serious than a strained muscle until now. “Who knows, maybe I’ll get my own rub down today.”

  “It’s always good to have goals. If you have time, text me and let me know what they say about the leg,” I requested. By the time he knew anything, I’d be sitting down for dinner but I didn’t want to wait until tonight.

  “Will do.” Mason dropped his voice when he next spoke. “Are you going to be watching? Want me to blow you a kiss?”

  The rumble of his deep voice sent a shock straight to my groin. He could never know that, otherwise he’d go out of his way to get me hard right before I had to play. He’s twisted that way.

  “If the game is on, yes, I’ll be watching. We’re heading over to The Dugout so I’d assume it’ll be on one of the screens,” I informed him. As for his offer to blow me a kiss, I honestly couldn’t think of anything more mortifying than me seeing that while sitting with my teammates. Knowing my luck, my cheeks would turn a deep shade of red from either lust or embarrassment. Neither were good emotions to experience while out for a night with the team. “And as sweet as it is, no, you don’t need to do anything for me. Knowing that you know that I’m watching is acknowledgment enough.”

  “If you say so. Alright, we’re here, so it’s time for me to get at it.” There was a long silence on the line, and then four barely audible words. “I miss you, babe.”

  “Miss you too,” I admitted. “Have a good time out there and remember to keep the weight off the back side of your foot.”

  While it was important to me to keep our personal lives and work separate, I couldn’t not say something to him about his stance. I noticed it during our series, and again in last night’s replay. He needed to correct that quick before it became a habit.

  “Yes, Dad,” he grumbled.

  “Hey, I’m not trying to be a dick, but I saw it so I figured I’d mention it. And with your leg hurting, it’s even more important that you pay attention.” The bathroom door opened, and I turned away slightly to give myself the illusion of privacy. “I’m sure you already knew, but you’d do the same for me.”

  “I know. If I get done with the trainer quick enough, I’m going to see about getting in some extra batting practice today,” he told me. “Look, the guys are filing off the bus already, so I really do have to go.”

  “Okay, call me when you get in tonight,” I reminded him.

  “Babe, you do realize that’s going to be after two your time, right?”

  “Yeah. If I don’t answer, leave a message. I’m going to see if I can catch a quick nap when we get back so I’ll be up.” Kevin tapped the face of his imaginar
y watch and I nodded. “Okay, go do your thing and I’ll talk to you later.”

  Mason quickly signed off and I turned to see Kevin watching me intently. “You got a girl back home?”

  “I thought we’d been over this before,” I said impatiently. “My personal life is off-limits. I’m not trying to be a dick, but it’s how I’ve always operated. We can talk about anything else, and you won’t have to worry about me getting in your business either.”

  “Hey, I wasn’t trying to pry,” he responded, holding his hands up in surrender. “Honestly, it’s cool to see someone who’s not willing to compromise his values when we’re on the road. My last roommate was gone half the time, fucking different women in every city while his pregnant wife sat home. It got old after a while.”

  “Well, you won’t have to worry about that from me. And I didn’t mean to come off as a dick, but it’s a fucked up situation to begin with, without the rumor mill running rampant,” I informed him, figuring I owed him at least that much. I’d never been the guy thinking about someone, missing them while I was on the road. It was strange, more so because it took all of about five minutes for me to realize how much I hated being away from Mason.

  “It’s cool. Just know that if you ever need to talk about it, I’m here. My girl split when I got traded, so I’m trying to get used to that before even thinking about moving on,” he admitted. I cringed, knowing that his story was all too common with some of the players. It seemed their girlfriends either would follow them to the ends of the Earth or had roots firmly planted in one place.

  “Do yourself a favor,” I advised him, motioning toward the door so he’d get moving. “Don’t let Ricky hear that you’re newly single. He’s a great guy, but he’s the newlywed on the team and thinks everyone needs a wife like his. And knowing what I do about her, if I was looking I’d want that for myself. If he realizes that you’re trying to get over someone, he’ll call her and she’ll have a half-dozen girls for you to talk to by the time we get home.”

  “Cool. Thanks for the heads up.” Jason and his roommate, Keith Henderson, joined us as we waited for the elevator. Talk quickly turned to plans for when we got back to Milwaukee, and I finally started to relax.

  Dinner was at a sports bar not far from our hotel. The owner was a former player, and he’d set up a semi-private dining area on the second floor where we could all watch the games on the big screen televisions along the back wall without having to worry about autograph hounds or home team hecklers bothering us. It wasn’t a frequent occurrence, but when sitting in a bar dedicated to sports the same day as a game, it was inevitable.

  Kevin immediately pulled out the chair next to mine, and Jason nearly choked on his beer. He leaned in close enough that no one else would hear him before whispering, “Looks like you two are getting along. You’ll be best friends before you know it.”

  I punched him in the shoulder, partly because he was being an ass, but also because I wasn’t going to stand for him giving Kevin a hard time. The more I learned about the guy, the more I realized he had his own demons, and hazing by his new team wouldn’t do anyone any good.

  “Don’t be a dick,” I scolded him. “He’s not half bad once you take the time to talk to him.”

  The Bulldogs/Rattlers game was just starting on the television furthest from the balcony. I hoped they’d switch it up, because the one set that gave us an unobstructed view was currently showing a gymnastics exhibition. I considered going down to plead my case with Al, because I could almost guarantee that no one in here cared about watching gymnastics on the big screen. And if they were, there were plenty of smaller screens for less popular sports.

  Jason disappeared to order the next round of pitchers and returned with a glass of Coke for me. He even had them put a lime wedge in it, so it looked like I was drinking something stronger. I loved that he thought of the little details, because I’d been sitting there trying to figure out how long I’d be able to nurse one glass of beer before it got so warm I couldn’t choke down another sip. Before I knew it, the main screen switched to a wide-angle shot of Paradise Park, a few miles outside of Phoenix. I tried to hide my smile when they ran through the starting lineup and Mason’s picture and stats filled the eighty-four inch monitor.

  I knew I’d failed miserably when Jason nudged my arm. “He must be a really great guy to make you crack that smile,” he teased me. I choked on my soda, which only drew more attention.

  “We lived together his rookie year,” I pointed out. “Trust me, nine months of trying to get him to put on some damn pants when we were home and failing will either bring roommates closer or drive a wedge between them.”

  Jason stuck his tongue firmly into his cheek and nodded. If he knew the truth, he wasn’t saying anything in front of anyone, but his reaction did make me wonder. Once everyone went back to their own conversations, he leaned in close and made an off-handed comment that Mason was a good guy, and then he was off to do his own thing again.

  Once the rest of the team made their way up the stairs, four waitresses wearing skimpy referee outfits bombarded us. All of them seemed to have tugged their shirts a little lower and tied them tighter in the back in preparation for tonight. Waitresses counting on their assets to earn bigger tips, or something else altogether, seemed to be one of the few constants from one city to the next. It had never been appealing to me, but after six years with the Mavericks and spending half the season away from home, it was beyond old.

  Mason: Quad is fine, just a bit tender. Feeling better already.

  Knowing Mason was fine, I turned off the ringer on my phone and shoved it into my pocket. There was no one I needed to talk to right now, and I wanted to give my teammates my undivided attention. We needed this time together off the field if we had any hope of acting like a cohesive unit on the field.

  Sitting around the table with the guys who were my family most of the year, enjoying baseball without having to worry about our place in the standings was an amazing stress reliever. It seemed most of the guys chose their winners based on friends who played for the other teams, and by the bottom of the fifth in the Bulldogs’ game, there were plenty of side wagers for everything from how many pitches it’d take to end the inning to how many times the announcer would repeat a particularly annoying phrase.

  “Hey guys, I’m heading back to the hotel,” I announced, hoping they’d take the hint and join me. No one had asked me to be the big brother of the group tonight, so I wasn’t going to push. As it turned out, the only ones who heard me were Jason and Kevin, both of whom settled their tabs and followed me toward the front door. We were almost outside when pained groans erupted from the balcony.

  I turned to see what the commotion was all about, only to see the instant replay of the Rattlers’ second baseman chasing Mason back to first base. He dove for the bag just in time, only to have his hand stomped on by the first baseman.

  “Fuck, wait,” I called out to the guys. I walked up to the bar and ordered a shot of whiskey. He sat on the ground for a moment, cradling his hand against his chest. Ike Moreau, the team trainer, rushed out to first base and, after a quick look at the hand, he escorted Mason off the field.

  “He’s going to be fine,” Jason assured me. He placed a hand on my shoulder and gave a firm squeeze. There was no doubt in my mind that he knew what was going on in my personal life, and I appreciated him for it. Injuries were part of the game, but it was somehow harder when it was Mason and he was so far away. I wanted to be there with him, to know what was going on. “I’m going to talk to Henderson for a minute. You take Kevin outside with you and see if you can get the cab to wait.”

  A few minutes later, Jason slid in on the passenger’s side and the cab sped away from the curb. I’d told him we’d make it worth his while to wait, but he apparently either didn’t care or didn’t believe me, because the driver was obviously annoyed.

  “Hey Kev,” Jason said, leaning over me. “We’re going to shuffle rooms for tonight. I have some sh
it I need to talk to Sean about, so Keith is going to come down to your room when he gets back to the hotel.”

  “Um, okay.” It was hard to tell who was more confused, because this was the first I’d heard about switching rooms. I looked at Jason and he cocked an eyebrow as he shook his head slightly.

  “It’s nothing personal, Kevin,” I assured him. “And you’ll like Keith. The only thing you have to worry about is him trying to drag you down to the lobby bar.”

  Back at the hotel, Jason helped me pack up my suitcase while Kevin sat back on his bed watching us warily. I felt bad for the guy, because he was still unsure of his place on the team and the one person he gotten to know was leaving him.

  “Hey, let’s meet downstairs for breakfast in the morning,” I offered. We’d be going home tomorrow, and I wanted to make sure he was set with a place to stay and the essentials until his belongings made their way across the country.

  I’d never forget how much it settled my nerves when Hugh Oimoen did the same for me when I was first called up to the Nashville Ramblers. I had resigned myself to another season in the minors, only to get the call as soon as our bus pulled in to Missoula, Montana. I arrived in Tennessee later that night with nothing but the clothes I had packed for a week on the road, but Hugh offered me his spare bedroom and bought me everything I needed to get by, on the condition that I returned the favor someday. Over the past decade, I’d done so every chance I got, giving the new players the same stipulation.

  “Yeah, call the room when you’re up and getting ready and I’ll meet you down there.” By the time Jason and I left, Kevin didn’t seem quite as guarded.

  “You going to tell me what this is all about?” I asked as we made our way to Jason’s room.