Page 4

“Hey, Cook. Come into my office.”

I turned to find the team manager, Wally Glover, leaning against his office doorframe. Tension locked my muscles momentarily, but I forced myself up and over to his office. Being called in to speak to the manager in the minor leagues might mean exciting news, or could mean you were getting cut. I hadn’t even put a uniform on yet—they couldn’t be cutting me already. Unless there was an injury, there was no way the Vanquish required my services yet either. So what did Wally want?

With my back to the window that allowed Wally to see the length of the locker room, I took a seat across from Wally’s desk. It was heaped high with papers: old lineup cards, player profiles, travel itineraries. A computer that looked like it had seen better days occupied one side of his L-shaped desk. I was used to the sleek efficiency of a major league manager’s office, and this was the complete opposite. Wally had a reputation as a solid manager, so I bet his office could be as messy as he wanted as long as he got results.

I tried to project confidence. I was no longer the cocky kid who was sure he was destined for greatness, but I still believed I had the skills to make a valuable contribution. Now to convince Wally. “What can I do for you?”

Wally’s look was appraising, and I tried not to let him see my discomfort. “Vancouver sent you to me, and told me that they had seen you take batting practice, run some bases, and play a little outfield. We’re going to run you through some drills this week, but I wanted to talk about the primary reason the club brought you here.”

The primary reason? I rubbed my palms on my legs, a nervous habit I’d picked up since the accident. It was like touching the scar tissue covering my thighs kept me grounded and focused on my goals. I was here to play baseball. That was the only reason I was here. If leadership had ulterior motives, I wasn’t interested. I’d played enough corporate games when I was playing in Texas. “O-kay,” I said slowly.

Wally sighed. “I hate this. I know you want to play, son. I can see it in your eyes. And from what I hear, you’ve worked hard to get back into shape. You also have major league experience, you were well liked by your teammates, and you kept your nose clean everywhere you played. No drama. Makes you a strong team leader. Vancouver wants you to be that team leader, Carter. We’re going to have a bunch of rookie players who should still be playing A ball, who are going to need a lot of help to turn into potential big-league talent. They think you can help with that.”

“What does that mean, exactly?” I didn’t know Wally yet, and I deserved some straight answers.

Wally grimaced. “You were a late signing and didn’t get to be with the club at spring training. The reason we signed you for Triple-A is that one of our outfielders was discovered sleeping with a teammate’s wife. His talent wasn’t that impressive, so Vancouver cut him loose. They are trying their best to build a great reputation, and any crap from the players will be dealt with immediately. This time, you benefitted, because they gave you a contract. We need someone with some maturity to help teach these youngsters how to act like professional ballplayers. You can help us do that. You’ll get to play, but maybe not as much as you were thinking you would.”

Relief warred with irritation, with relief winning. Vancouver might want me to mentor the rookie players, but all I wanted was to prove myself, to remind people of the player I once was. The player I knew I could be again, with a little more work. I shrugged. “Fine by me. I know I have to prove myself again, and still have a lot of work to get my power back. As long as I get some playing time and I’m not warming the bench every game? I’ll give you everything I’ve got. And I’ll share my experience with the new guys.”

The wrinkles creasing Wally’s forehead smoothed out somewhat as he nodded at me. “That’s good enough for me. Now go unpack your gear and get settled in. Opening day is coming fast, and we have a lot of work to do.”

I left his office to set up my locker, slightly numb, trying to process Wally’s news. A player sleeping with a teammate’s wife was the last thing a brand-new club wanted to deal with. It had opened a door for me, so I would stay positive. The club valued my experience. Leadership was critical to a team. I’d been on teams where on paper the players should never have been able to make a playoff run, but with solid leadership they’d gone all the way.

I’d also played on clubs where poor leadership had turned all-stars into petty, bickering children who could barely win a game. More than once, I’d been one of the veterans who helped bring the players together to find common ground. I would do it again. All while I proved that I could contribute on the field as well as off it. I was going back to the majors. I wouldn’t let myself believe otherwise.

I stacked the array of league-approved medications in my locker, so different from how it had been the last time I’d played. Then, I’d had a few supplements and a bunch of personal care products. It was yet another reminder of how much had changed.

“Carter?” I turned to find Ethan behind me, looking at me hopefully.

“Hey, Ethan. Are you and your mom done with the event?” The cupcake I’d taken from Jane’s table had gone down in two quick bites, and been as delicious as I’d remembered. Her having a kiosk at the games would be a huge hit with the crowds.

“Mom’s talking to the management team. I was wondering if you’d be willing to watch me take batting practice? Give me some pointers on my swing?” Ethan shifted from side to side on the balls of his feet, telling me how important this was to him.

I was exhausted from the chaos of packing my life up to move, and needing to make an appearance for the event, but I couldn’t hurt his feelings by saying no.

“Will Wally allow that?” I didn’t want to break any rules on my first day.

Ethan was grinning and nodding. “He always says yes. He and my grandpa are old friends. Did you know they played on the Independent League championship team together before my mom was born?”

“Really?” I remembered Jane talking about her father teaching her to love baseball, and that he’d played when he was young.

Ethan pointed at the trophy case against the wall of the room, where a framed photo hung next to an old trophy. I wandered over and scanned the faces and names. Wally Glover had been the catcher on the team that year, but standing beside him was a man named George Morris. The resemblance to Jane was strong around the eyes and mouth, even if the man had to be a solid foot taller than Jane. I knew a lot of baseball history, knew that Wally had gone on to play a few seasons with Los Angeles, but Jane hadn’t talked much about her father playing pro ball. “I didn’t know your grandfather played on a professional team.”

“This was his final season. He had an offer to go play Triple-A ball in the States, but he’d married my grandmother, and she was expecting my mom. He stayed here and opened a restaurant and pub instead. He says it was the best decision he ever made, but can you imagine? Giving up the chance to maybe go pro?” Ethan sounded amazed.

The picture was from over forty-five years ago. Minor league players made almost no money back then. If George Morris had a baby on the way? He may have had few other options, and gambling on making it to the big leagues would have been a huge risk. “Your mom is pretty amazing. If your grandma is anything like Jane, your grandfather was a smart man.”

“I guess. Grandma is the best.” Ethan began walking to Wally’s office. “You should come to dinner after batting practice. Mom already invited you. Text her and tell her I asked you to come. She’s making her lasagna. I remember that was your favourite.”

Jane’s lasagna was legendary among the team members of the Texas club Chad and I had played on, and she’d made it several times when I was with them. “Low blow, kid. Your mom had a packed day. She won’t want a guest.”

He was shaking his head before I finished speaking. “You can ask her, but she won’t care. I bring friends home all the time.”

Ethan disappeared into Wally’s office, leaving me alone to debate sending the message. I pulled her card out of my pocket and began to type.

Ethan invited me for dinner tonight. Let me know if that’s a problem.

I placed my phone into my locker and stripped off my suit. My new uniform fabric felt familiar under my fingers as I fastened the buttons, and once again I was thankful for a second chance. This might be nothing more than batting practice, but I was grateful to be putting a uniform back on. I picked up a bat and left to meet Ethan at the batting cages. It was time to get to work.