“My focus is on the field.”
“Great. Remember, if a question makes you uncomfortable, redirect and answer it how you wish it had been asked. Now get out on that field and make us all feel how your absence affected this team.”
“Will do,” I say.
I stop by Troy’s office next. “I’m so glad to have you back,” he tells me. He holds up the lineup card that I checked for in the locker room, and he passes it over to me.
I stare at my name in the spot of the fifth batter. Not as much pressure as cleanup, but still a good position to ease back into things. I review the rest of the lineup.
1. 3B – Noah
2. 2B – Maddox
3. SS – Winters
4. 1B – Brewer
5. LF – Bradley
6. RF – Owens
7. C – Bardot
8. CF – Prater
9. DH –Reynolds
I pass the card back to him. “I’m ready.”
“Then let’s fucking go, Archer. I want you to know how proud I am of you for serving your time and coming back with a positive outlook. We certainly missed you, and we’re ready to see what you can do. Give us everything you’ve got tonight.”
“I will.” I project a confidence I’m not sure I feel. If anything, I feel nervous to get back out there. What if I get out there and they realize Cade was a better fit for this team after all? What if I’m bumped out of my spot on the lineup?
I’ll project confidence until the end of time despite those thoughts swirling around.
By the time my personal meetings are over, it’s time for workouts. I head to the cages to do some reps there and work through some footwork and routes with the other outfielders. We review the charts for the team we’re playing and do a little soft toss with the outfield coach.
I get stretched by the team trainers, which shifts my anxiety into focus. I start to settle as routine kicks in. The nerves dissipate as I feel like myself again. Like a ballplayer. Like the guy I’ve always been…just with one more chip on his shoulder and a little more heartache inside.
The clock ticks closer and closer to game time, and it’s time for batting practice. I find my old rhythm with Johnny, who I joke with in the outfield between plays, and I feel the scrutiny from every direction as I stand out there. Coaches, teammates, the media. Fans arriving early. The stadium staff. Everyone’s watching. Everyone’s eyes are on me. It’s up to me to prove that I’m the same Archer who left the field last season with a smile and returned this season forty games late.
The buffet opens for our pregame meal, though nerves seem to have killed my hunger. I force down a protein shake and some hydration drinks, and Cooper forces me to eat a small plate of pasta. And then we’re in the final stretch. Mental prep, taping, adjusting batting gloves.
Getting dressed.
I’m in my home uniform for the first time in forty games, and the reality plows into me.
I’m always a little anxious before games start, and that’s amplified today. But I’m also excited. That feeling of needing to prove myself is strong in my gut, and I’m ready.
Emotion clogs my throat as I jog onto left field in my uniform. I hear the roar of the crowd, and the feeling warms me from the inside. That feeling of being where I’m supposed to be once again.
Johnny and I throw balls to each other to warm up, and he throws to Duke on his other side as I move to increase the distance between us a bit between throws.
Warm-ups come to an end, and we toss our balls in. I meet Johnny in the middle, and he fist-bumps me. “Glad to have you back,” he says.
“Good to be back.”
The national anthem plays, the ceremonial first pitch is thrown, and then players are introduced.
