Page 4 of Saved By the Pitcher

Bob Daly, known for representing some of the biggest names in sports, expressed his own frustration. “Mike, I am listening to you. I just don’t like what I’m hearing. Why do you need to tell the world you’re bisexual? You’re not even with a guy, so what’s the point? You spent twenty years with the Yankees keeping your secret, so why come out now?”

“It was two decades of denying who I am,” Mike reminded him. “Don’t you get it? I’ve never been with a man because it was forbidden, not because there weren’t guys that I was attracted to. Now that I’m retired, I don’t need to worry about what my teammates think and I can date any girl or dude that I want.”

“You still have the public’s reaction to worry about. You have deals with how many companies to advertise their products? Now, start thinking about how many of those deals you’ll lose.”

Mike rolled his eyes, even though Bob couldn’t see his reaction. “This is the twenty-first century. None of them would dare. The protests from liberals would be too great.”

“Do you not watch the news? Look at the financial hit beer-makers and department stores are taking when they support Pride month or other LGBTQ causes. Sure, the companies you work with won’t drop you on your announcement because they won’t want that backlash from mainstream America. But they’ll pay you to do nothing then ditch you when your contract is up.”

“I don’t care,” Mike complained. “I have enough money to live in comfort for the rest of my life. I’m getting too old to be doing some of those gigs anyway, don’t you think? Like, what about the underwear print and television ads? How much longer will people want to see me photographed half-naked?”

Bob laughed on the other end of the line. “Mike, you may be forty years old, but trust me, the reaction to those underwear ads is still off the charts. Your body is displayed in the men’s section of half the country’s department stores, and the ads are in every fashion magazine. You’ve become better known as the hunk-in-trunks than as a former star relief-pitcher for the Yankees.”

“Wonderful. That’s not tempting me to continue,” Mike responded. “I think I’d rather be remembered for my contributions to the team than for my pec muscles.”

“Such problems,” Bob said, and Mike could hear the sarcasm in his tone. “Besides, what makes you think it’s your chest that’s being gawked at?”

“God,” Mike muttered. “I try not to think about that. They airbrush out the visible penis line, so what do people think they’re seeing?”

“A bulge. Your happy trail. Who knows? It’s not like I’m the one drooling,” Bob volleyed back.

“You noticed I have a happy trail,” Mike teased. “Anyway, I’d rather use my retirement to do meaningful things. I was thinking if I come out, imagine how much easier it could be for younger players to declare their sexual orientation while they’re still playing. Someone needs to break down the barriers. There’s nobody in major league baseball who has claimed membership in the LGBTQ community.”

Bob sighed. “There’s a reason for that. They’d be shunned by their teammates and attacked on social media by the fans. You coming out isn’t going to make anyone else eager to do it. It will just reinforce that you had to wait until you retired to make the announcement.”

Mike closed his eyes, trying to respond, but he knew Bob was right. “Okay, maybe it won’t help others come out. But sharing my truth would allow me to communicate in other ways. I could help educate through the talk circuit, and I could throw some money and energy at helping LGBTQ causes.”

“I still say you should keep quiet. Mike, you can keep dating girls and live a happy life. Why screw it up?”

“I’m shutting off the possibility of a potential match with half the population. I’m tired of appeasing others. This is what I want to help change, Bob. I don’t want people hiding their identities because they think it’s easier than being honest.”

After a moment of silence, Bob responded. “Mike, if you’re hell-bent on doing this, then we need to formulate a strategy. We can try to secure deals with gay-friendly companies who will capitalize on your announcement. Maybe your current contracts will end, but other companies may be eager to sign you. I’ll do some research. Aren’t there underwear companies that market to gay men? They may be happy for you to endorse their products, though I’ll bet you’ll need to wear skimpier stuff and nix the air-brushing.”

“Geez, now you’re an expert on gay-preferred underwear, too? Are you sure there isn’t something you want to tell me? I’m a sure-bet supportive ear.”

Bob snickered, unoffended. “Mike, if I swung that way, you’d be at the top of my list. Even I can see you’re a stud. My wife salivates when your name comes up in conversation. But, pal, there is no way I’m going near a dick and a pair of balls. Kind of gross, if you ask me. No offense.”

“I guess that’s good news for your wife. It means you’ll always want her instead of jerking off if you don’t want to go near a dick.”

Bob let out a guffaw. “Yeah, well, I don’t watch myself when I whack off. And unfortunately, it’s the only choice more and more these days. After forty-three years of marriage, the magic is gone for my wife, I suspect. If I walk around naked, she turns up her nose and tells me to cover up.”

Mike laughed. “Can’t say I blame her. I’d tell you to cover that body, too.”

“Thanks, asshole,” Bob shot. “Listen, don’t announce anything until we have a plan, okay? If we strategize, you can do good for others while still capitalizing financially.”

“How philanthropic,” Mike commented.

“Donate your earnings then, Mr. Bleeding Heart,” Bob suggested. “As long as you donate after I get my cut.”

“Of course.” Mike sighed. “Hey, I need to go. I’m supposed to pick up Jessica. She wants to see this Broadway show tonight.”

“Okay, so what’s up with that? You’re talking about staying open to a match with a guy, but you’re still dating Jessica? You told me last time we talked that you were going to break up with her.”

Mike put his fingers to the bridge of his nose to ease the throbbing he was experiencing behind his eyes. He wished he could just lie down and skip the date. “I know. I’ll do it tonight. Trust me, she’s my ex-girlfriend. She just doesn’t know it yet. Like I told you before, she’s into having a celebrity on her arm. I want someone who’d love me even if I wasn’t Mike Cooper, famous baseball player.”

“Or the hunk-in-trunks,” Bob needled. “Anyway, I hope you learned your lesson with her. You’re not getting younger, so don’t keep falling for someone just because they have a pretty face. And that applies to men, too. Don’t think there won’t be just as many of them that wouldn’t hook up just because of your fame and wealth. So, what are you and Jessica seeing tonight?”

“The More Things Change. It’s a show about the parallels between Nazi Germany and today’s right-wing politics. Sounds heavy, but it’s a musical comedy. Go figure. Jessica heard it got great reviews, so she showed me the ad for it in the paper. I bought her the tickets as a surprise a few weeks ago when I thought our relationship might go somewhere. At least the lead actor in the advertisement looked cute.”