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“Anyone with eyes can see they’re in trouble. They signed players that no one else wanted because they’re toxic in a clubhouse, and now they’re paying for it. Throw rookies into that mix, and it’s bound to create even more problems. Guys who’ve been around the league a while can ignore the bullshit, but rookies? They don’t always know better.”

I spoke from experience, although thankfully not my own. For all that Chad was horrible to Jane and had been a real diva when he was playing, he’d treated me well in the beginning. The Texas club had been a decent atmosphere for rookie players when I was there. I’d played in Seattle with guys who had come from clubs where their experiences had been one step above hazing. It was a fast way to wreck a young player’s career.

“Witt’s going to need support when he gets back. He’s going to think it was because he played badly, but I know Vancouver had been working on picking up Julio Hernandez for weeks. They finalized the trade yesterday. It’ll hit the wires today. Can I count on you to help him get back on his game?” Mick asked.

“Of course. I’ll spend some more time with him. Did you say they signed Hernandez from Cleveland? What did they have to give up?” Julio Hernandez was a star infielder from the Dominican Republic who had won last year’s utility player award. He hit for power, with a high on-base percentage. And he had speed on the bases, making him a threat to steal. I couldn’t believe Cleveland had traded him.

“Two high draft picks and a ton of cash is what I hear,” Mick said, shaking his head. “I know Cleveland is always trying to keep their payroll down, but how do you trade a guy like that? He has a reputation for being a good guy in the clubhouse too. Maybe Vancouver thought he can fix whatever their problem is.”

I grunted in agreement, but one guy couldn’t turn a club around. I had played one season with Hernandez at the beginning of his career, and at the time I’d appreciated how levelheaded he was, how much he was all about the team, instead of himself. Vancouver had removed a couple of toxic players already, which was positive. There was still a lot of work to do.

I’d get more from Witt when he came back, find out what the team was actually like. Not that it mattered. If I got the call, I was all in.

“How are you feeling? Your ribs healing up okay? Were you able to give your body a break, get some extra rest? You looked pretty good out there doing sprints.” Mick was acting casual, but anything I said would go straight back to Wally. That was his job.

“I slept in my own bed, and I had a PT session this morning. Ari finally got my hip flexor to unlock. I feel better today than I have since opening weekend.”

It felt great to be telling the truth, not trying to hide yet another nagging injury. I couldn’t wait to take the field. Raine’s identification of my swing problem had improved my hitting, and my hip felt healthy, which would only help my fielding and baserunning.

“Good. We need you back to form. The kids need to see that us oldsters can bounce back from injuries and setbacks.” Mick laughed.

“I need to see if I can bounce back, man. This has been rough. And there’s something else I need you and Wally to know about.” I rubbed the scars on my leg absently. “Jane kicked Chad out last night, and he’s pissed at both of us. He blames me for being part of why she kicked him out. I wanted the team to know in case he tried to cause trouble.”

Mick stopped walking. “Are you breaking any rules?”

“No.” We weren’t breaking any written rules that I knew of. We were both consenting adults.

“Was there another fight?”

“No.” At least Chad hadn’t thrown any punches.

“Then I wouldn’t worry about it. I’ll talk to Wally, let him know just in case Chad tries anything.” Mick fist-bumped my shoulder. “You’ll be fine. How about we all grab dinner at the Dugout after practice? Make it a team-building thing.”

Jane and I hadn’t made plans, but I’d thought I’d be with her. But the Fliers needed the team bonding. It was a good way to welcome Witt back to the team, help cheer him up. “Sure. I’ll tell the guys, see how many can make it.”

When I got back to my locker, I messaged Jane.

Team dinner at the Dugout. I’ll see you after?

Jane

Have fun. See you later.

Raine had arrived, as had the group of younger players led by Blake Tyler. I doubted they would accept Witt’s return without giving him a hard time about it. What was happening to Witt could be the same future for any of them, except none of them had as much talent as Witt. But they would follow Blake’s lead, and he revelled in kicking guys when they were down. I blew a piercing whistle to get everyone’s attention. “Team dinner at the Dugout after practice.”

A few grumbles came from the young players clustered around Blake.

“You buying?” one of the rookies asked.

“The club is picking up the tab for food. No one should be drinking, but if you want alcohol, you pay for your own,” Mick responded from in front of Wally’s office.

“Okay, Coach.” Jonah Lewis was one of the quieter members of Blake’s entourage, and the most respectful to the coaching staff. The kid was grateful to be in Triple-A ball and was playing his heart out. Maybe it was time to give him some added support.

I had tried to bond with the young players, but it had been a battle. I had been on good terms with Witt before he’d been promoted to the Vanquish, but Blake was a problem. He was a baseball brat, the son of one former major league player, and the brother of another. The issue was he didn’t have half the talent of either. In any club other than Vancouver, he’d never make it past Double-A. The other problem was that because of his family connections, the other young guys thought he knew what he was talking about.

“What’s going on?” Raine cocked his head at Mick.

“I’ll fill you in when we get out on the field.” I trusted Raine, but I didn’t want anyone else to overhear the news about Witt. It was Wally’s place to tell the team.