I see it as a game. One I get paid a lot of money to play, and one I play to the best of my ability. I train harder than any guy on the field. And the Firebirds have been good to me, fortunately. I’ve tried hard to be a team player. Harder, at least.
But come on, if you run your mouth about how you’re going to strike me out, yeah, when I hit a homer off you, I’m going to blow you a kiss. And do a backflip onto home plate.
I don’t make the rules.
After another few miles, I reach a gated community. I look at my phone and enter the code my GM sent me. A moment later, the small walking gate unlatches and I enter an immaculately kept neighborhood that’s a far cry from the tiny apartment I grew up in. The entire neighborhood looks like it’s something out of a “Christmas Wars” reality show, where neighbors compete for best decorations, prettiest Christmas lights, most reindeer on a roof, you name it.
And I love it.
After another half mile, I reach a gorgeous, sprawling home and press the camera doorbell. A moment later, a little kid says in a robot voice, “Who are you and why are you here?”
“I’m Cooper Kellogg, and I’m here to see your dad,” I say.
“Dad! Coop’s here! Can he sign my—” There’s a scuffle, and a moment later, my GM opens the door, his salt and pepper hair looking disheveled.
“Hey Doug,” I say.
He shakes his head. “Sorry, Coop. Come on in.” His seven year-old is hiding behind his legs. “You remember Mason, don’t you?”
“I do,” I say, bumping his fist with mine.
“Can you sign a baseball for me?” Mason asks before his dad can cover his mouth.
“I signed ten for you last time I saw you, didn’t I?” I say.
“Don’t sign anything,” Doug says. “He’s been selling balls with your autograph on them for a hundred bucks a pop.”
“A hundred each?” I chuckle. “Not bad, kid.”
Mason sighs. “Yeah, but Aiden sold a Hideo Suzuki ball for two hundred.”
“Two hundred?” I huff. “Hideo Suzuki can sniff my dirty socks. And so can Aiden.”
“It’s simple economics,” Doug says, tousling his son’s hair. “Aiden was the only kid in school with a signed Hideo Suzuki ball. You sold ten of Coop’s. Supply and demand, kid.”
Mason sticks his tongue out at his dad.
“Careful. That’ll put you on the Naughty List,” Doug says.
“NO!” Mason screams, falls at his dad’s feet, and starts hitting Doug’s legs. “Daddy, no! Don’t tell Santa!”
Doug shakes his head. “I won’t tell Santa.”
Mason’s tears dry up and he immediately runs off.
“That kid is a bigger handful than his four older siblings combined,” Doug mutters.
Doug leads me through his beautifully decorated home. Each room has a Christmas tree, and it makes me nostalgic for Christmas with my parents. As lovely as Doug’s mansion-home is, it can’t compare to my mom’s decorating. She always made our little apartment seem grander than the Windsor Hotel on Christmas. And now that she and Dad are celebrating Christmas in the house I bought for them, she does the same on a grander scale.
Doug escorts me outside to the backyard. His home is on at least a couple of acres, and just past the pool, I see an actual baseball diamond I itch to play on. We walk over to it and stand in front of home plate. I breathe in deeply.
There’s nothing more beautiful than an empty stadium. The perfectly manicured lawn, the crisp white base lines, theorderly seats. When I was ten, my travel baseball team had a tournament in Phoenix, and my dad took me to my first Spring Training game. The stadium took my breath away. We sat on the lawn, the sun beating down on us even in March. Dad got me a huge bag of cotton candy, and to this day, it’s still my favorite treat. Then, something incredible happened. A player came up to bat and pointed to the outfield, just like Babe Ruth calling his home run.
But the crowd booed the guy.
I couldn’t understand why they’d boo him. He was so brave! When he hit a pop fly, the crowd laughed, and I held back tears.
Dad put his arm around me and told me that it was just a game and the player had thick skin. The Jumbotron showed him holding out his arms in a shrug, but he was smiling. “It’s all part of The Show,” Dad said.
