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“Can I ask your advice on something?” Cooper Madison asked Clarence Walters, who was driving him to meet with the front office of his newest baseball team, the Cleveland Indians.
“At your own peril, I’m a brutally honest person,” Clarence replied.
“Well, good, because that’s what I need to hear.”
“Lots of people say that, but when it happens they don’t like it.”
“Well, I can assure you I will.”
“Go ahead, then.”
“If you were in my shoes, would you ever play baseball again?”
“That depends on whether or not I needed it.”
“Needed it? Like for the money?”
“No, not for the money,” Clarence chuckled.
“I was going to say, I’m pretty much set there for a couple lifetimes, thankfully. What do you mean by need?”
“Do you need baseball? The game itself. Not the fans, or the fame, or even the cameras. Do you need baseball in your life to be happy, like you need air to breathe? If you need baseball to survive like you need air to breathe, then I’d say yes. If you don’t, well, then you don’t,” Clarence responded.
“Wow, that’s pretty much the best answer I think anyone could’ve given me. You should write a damn advice column. You could call it ‘Dear Clarence’ like that lady does,” Coop said, only half joking.
“The newspaper couldn’t afford me,” Clarence laughed.
“You know... I guess I haven’t been happy, for obvious reasons, since I played ball. Well, except for Cara. I’m happy with her, man. She kinda rescued me, I think. I didn’t realize just how unhappy I was.”
“She’s a sweet girl, for sure.”
“Yeah she is, and just a real person, you know? I feel like I have met more ‘real’ people in the past week than I have in the past decade. All since I met her. I forgot what that was like.”
“Maybe she is the reason that you’re realizing that you miss playing now...”
“How so?” Coop asked, leaning forward from the back seat of the Escalade.
“I see it like this, okay… There are certain people in our lives that are like keys that can be used to unlock the parts of ourselves that would otherwise never see the light of day. In your case, Cara is like the key that unlocks the part of you that you used to be, but have locked away since you stopped playing.”
“Whoa… that’s some deep stuff right there Clarence. Are you sure you’re not a therapist or even a motivational speaker on the side?”
“Don’t do that, man,” Clarence replied, sternly.
“Do what?” Coop asked, taken aback by the response.
“Deflect. I’m guessing you always deflect like that to avoid confronting your feelings.”
“I do… I guess it’s my way of dealing,” Coop answered.
“It’s okay to have the focus on you, sometimes. I know that sounds like a weird thing to say to someone who has lived in the spotlight for his entire adult life, but that ain’t real, man. You have always had people heaping praise on you for what you can do on the field to the point that you feel guilty because you know that type of praise is only because of your physical gifts. So, when a person gives you praise for something that has nothing to do with baseball, you feel like you have to deflect to balance out all the stuff you don’t think you deserve.”
“You’re right, Clarence. That’s exactly how I feel, man…”
“I know, brother, and I don’t blame you. I can’t even begin to say that I can relate, but that doesn’t mean I can’t have empathy.”
“I guess you’re one of those keys, huh? You’re helping me unlock the fact that I need to start recognizing that it’s okay to separate the two…”
