The Gravity of the Game

by Jon Del Arroz

  “Yes, but it’s untested outside of a lab, and the technology is bound to be extremely expensive.”

  Jared held up a finger. “Hey, I saw some article the other day about tech. It was about nanotechnology in health, but it applies. Something about how everything halves in cost every eighteen months.”

  Cespedes snapped his fingers. “Perfect. By the time we announce, get plans going, have a vote of the ownership, work out funding, costs drop harder than Stewart’s sinkerball. We take the pressure off you and get positive coverage. But we have to do it now.”

  Hideki stared at his two lieutenants, who appeared as eager and hungry as when they’d first entered the big leagues. This was a crazy idea. “I appreciate your enthusiasm, gentlemen, but we have no idea if this would work on a large scale. I can’t take this to press. We’d get skewered if it doesn’t pan out.”

  “We’re already getting skewered!” Cespedes laughed. “Seriously. It’s worth a try. Think about it.” He hopped back to his feet. “I’ve got to jet. Hitting the Dragonflies game tonight.”

  Jared stood along with him. “Me too. Where you sitting?”

  “Section one-twenty-four. You?”

  “Two-oh-two.”

  Hideki watched them leave like the whirlwind by which they’d entered. In some ways, Cespedes was right. He had nothing to lose at this point. Was it time to go all in on his legacy as commissioner? The thought made him more nervous than ever.

  Late at night, Hideki’s comm buzzed on his nightstand. The screen lit up in blue light, displaying the three-dimensional visage of Dr. Joshua Gray.

  He sat up, orienting himself after not enough sleep. What time was it? He glanced at the wall clock—three in the morning.

  Susan stirred beside him, but didn’t wake. Instead, she rolled to her side as she often did when he came in late. It would take bombs going off to interrupt her sleep.

  Rubbing his eyes, Hideki slid his legs over the side of the bed. The comm continued to vibrate on the nightstand.

  Hideki groaned, reaching for it and sliding the sound on, but no video. He brought the device close to his face, squinting at the light in his eyes. “Hold on,” he whispered. “Susan’s asleep. Let me get to a different room.”

  Hideki pushed himself to his feet. His body protested the quick movement and lack of stretching, tight and aching after years of the physical abuse of being a professional athlete.

  A moment later he had made it to his office. The blinds had been left up, displaying the Hong Kong skyline’s dots of lights that shone brighter than stars. “Okay, I have you on speaker.”

  “I’m so sorry, Hideki,” Dr. Gray’s voice said through the comm. “I was excited and completely forgot what time it was over there.”

  “It’s okay.” Hideki’s voice held a little annoyance from the early hour despite his attempt to sound chipper. “I assume it’s important?”

  “Yes! I think I have funding for our project.”

  Hideki caught his own breath, startled. That news brought him to alertness. “You have? Your timing’s impeccable, I have to say. We were just deliberating over how the Lunar baseball project could possibly come to fruition.”

  “Yeah. I mentioned a contact at EdgyCola. Have you heard of Karen Egli? She came to me. Actually visited the lab herself.”

  Karen had visited Dr. Gray? How had she found out more about his project? When she had approached Hideki at the fundraiser, she had shown interest, but Hideki didn’t trust corporate sponsors. They had separate agendas, only looking out for their own companies. It irked him that she would go around him like this. “I’m familiar,” Hideki said.

  “She didn’t offer blanket funding, but she said if I worked up a surface cost proposal for about three acres, she would be willing to try that on the moon.”

  Three acres. About the size of a baseball stadium. Had his own idea been pre-empted? If EdgyCola and Dr. Gray moved forward without him, Hideki had no chance at retaining his commissionership. Did that matter? Wasn’t the good of the game all he cared about? He didn’t need the money at this point in his career. His legacy would be the only thing in question if this project didn’t finish because of him. “That’s great,” Hideki said.

  “You don’t sound thrilled.”

  “It’s three in the morning.”

  “Ah, right. Well, we can talk about the details when you’re up later. I thought you’d want to know as soon as possible. Best part is that the EdgyCola company has enough property allocated on the moon to make this a reality. It’s a miracle.”

  “It’s something alright. Yes, we’ll have to talk later.” Hideki moved to his desk chair and slumped down in it. This was a victory. Why couldn’t he be happier about it?

  “Thanks, Hideki. I couldn’t have gotten here without you believing in me and the project. I mean that. Talk to you soon.”

  “No problem.”

  The comm clicked off, and the screen image faded. The lights in the room remained off, but the city lights gave Hideki more than enough light to see. His eyes felt heavy, taxed from a difficult day prior and a lack of sleep. But he couldn’t go back to bed yet. He swiped his comm.

  “Call Karen Egli,” he said to it.

  The phone rang and a young male voice answered. “EdgyCola, how may I help you?”

  “Looking for Karen.”

  “May I ask who’s calling?”

  “Hideki Ichiro, World Baseball League.”

  “For real?”

  “For real.”

  “You were my favorite player growing up. Sorry, this is unprofessional. I just wanted to let you know.”

  “Thanks,” Hideki said. No matter how old he became, how famous, he never grew tired of hearing the appreciation from the fans. It warmed him in ways few other things could. “I do need to speak with Karen though, if you don’t mind.”

  “Oh! Of course. Let me get her for you.”

  Music triggered in the background as he placed Hideki on hold. Several minutes passed, with the same lulling song repeating multiple times. The wait exacerbated Hideki’s weariness, but he resolved to stay alert long enough to finish the call.

  Finally, the music clicked off. “Hello?” Karen asked.

  “Hey, Karen. Hideki.”

  “I’ve been waiting for you to call.”

  “You could have let me know first. I don’t like this going around me. After our discussion I thought you were voicing your support.” Hideki couldn’t help sounding bitter.

  “I was. I am. I’m sorry, Hideki. I didn’t mean it as a slight to you. I should have called you earlier but after our discussion I started looking up the viability of the moon. I was able to get a copy of your board report a colleague. I read about its lack of viability and that got me thinking. We have a lot of subsidiaries—not many people realize that, but we’re always looking for the next big thing. You understand?”

  “I do.” It was something ambitious people had in common. They always worked harder, always pursued something new over the horizon. Even though he dedicated his life to a game, he’d taken it as seriously as if he had chosen any profession. Work encompassed his life, defined him, as much as anything else did. That they had in common.

  “So, of course, I started thinking about gravity. Just like you did, I’m sure.”

  “You’re right.”

  Karen chuckled. “It’s amazing how thought processes between two people can be so similar from two different backgrounds. It turns out that some of our R&D team has been talking with Dr. Gray about his initial gravity projects. He hasn’t published his findings yet, but he does have a working model for artificial gravity. How some other company hasn’t found him and scooped him up, I have no idea.”

  “Technology is only known for its genius in hindsight. Companies don’t look at it until they know it’s going to be a success. As you mentioned, his findings are unpublished.” Hideki sighed. “Just from knowing Dr. Gray, I doubt he’s publicized it very much. He’s the type to keep his business
interests in his pocket, save for a few he trusts.”

  “I understand that too well.”

  “I know you do. That’s why we generally get along,” Hideki said.

  “Hey, I said I was sorry.”

  “Congratulations. If the technology works, this is quite the coup.” His words sounded cold, but Hideki hurt. How could he be excited when the rug had been swept from under him? The only shot he had at some positive momentum stolen by a cola company. His commissionership, his work in the WBL evaporated before his very eyes. Corporations didn’t care about people.

  “What? Hideki, I’m not trying to cut you out. But for my company’s interests, I do need to deal directly with Dr. Gray. I moved quickly because I couldn’t risk news of this technology leaking to anyone else in the venture capital world.”

  Hideki frowned. He didn’t want to say the words he was thinking. In his head, they sounded desperate, pleading, even before he uttered them aloud. “But what of the WBL’s involvement?” What of me? Hideki meant to ask.

  “This is your baby, isn’t it? Why don’t you come aboard as a baseball operations consultant?”

  Karen didn’t owe this to him. She didn’t owe him anything. Her words were a kindness. But would there be a catch down the line? Going into an agreement without any control, without any advantage at all could only lead to danger. EdgyCola gained potential patent on world changing technology. Good PR. Developable moon property. What about Karen personally? Hideki’s eyes widened. “You want your own professional baseball team.”

  Karen chuckled on the other end of the comm. “I did confess my dreams to you at the charity event in Chicago. With the market caps here planetside, at least any city near where I’d want to be, it’s impossible. No value or upside. With a lunar expansion—”

  “There’s no market yet,” Hideki finished for her. “So you could come in risking very little of your own resources. The corporate capital will fund everything because the technology is such a sure gamble. If it works, you have a hot commodity with a team on your hands. If it doesn’t, you don’t lose anything.”

  “Not to mention I’d get the benefit of being able to justify more Lunar trips. I find I enjoy visiting there. The low gravity is relaxing.” A pause. “So what will it be? Will I have a commissioner who’s going to approve my planned expansion team?”

  Hideki had little choice. Karen made a good partner in this development, a godsend if anything. On the other hand, he couldn’t trust such a savvy businesswoman to not retrade later and make the deal even more favorable for her. This meant the world to him, and it would to little Carl Suzuki as well. What other option did he have? It could be enough to save his tenure at the WBL. “I’ll get my press team to draft a statement and run it by you as soon as we have it.”

  “Great!” Karen’s voice shifted to a chipper, higher register. “You won’t regret this. I promise.”

  Hideki could only hope.

  Three days later, Hideki stepped out in front of the podium. It had been a few weeks since he’d given a press conference. Photographers flashed pictures of him standing in front of a backdrop with a repeating WBL logo. Both Jared and Cespedes flanked him on either side, taking seats at the table. Hideki peeked over to the edge of the stage curtain to see both Dr. Gray and Karen Egli emerging together, waving and smiling for the cameras.

  Hideki tapped the microphone to make sure it was on. Over a hundred sports reporters gathered in front of him, along with several drone cameras from networks outside the region. Some of the pre-conference analysis suggested that he would be stepping down from his position as commissioner. The commentators making those predictions were in for a sore disappointment.

  “Hello, and thank you all for attending today,” Hideki said into the microphone. His voice came out sounding deep, calm, practiced from years of delivering speeches, stemming back to when he was a player. “Today marks a special day in the development of the World Baseball League. As you know, throughout my career I’ve taken ambitious steps as a player, coach, and finally in the front office of the league itself. Our players are healthier than ever before, and though attendance is low in some smaller market areas, we have seen a healthy equilibrium that’s allowed teams to compete in some of the best seasons the sport of baseball has ever seen.”

  He paused for applause, and in full understanding of the cue, the reporters clapped dutifully.

  “But like all games and businesses, there comes a point where you have to take some risks, make changes that will sway the way business is conducted. In entertainment, remaining stagnant is a death knell.”

  The reporters rumbled at that. He could hear bits and pieces of questions about his stepping down as commissioner, though none of the voices were clear enough to hear individually.

  “You’ll notice I’m here with one of our major sponsors, the CEO of EdgyCola, Karen Egli.” Hideki nodded toward her and took a breath. “Several months ago, I took a trip to Luna City, with the stated purpose of a hospital visit to a sick child who has dreamt of baseball since his father taught him the game. He’s never been able to see baseball in person, being native to Lunar gravity. Coming to Earth would be too much tax on his body, as it would be with all Lunar natives.

  “Luna’s citizens miss out on so much because of their location. Most industries shrug at the matter and say there’s nothing they can do. When I met this sick child, that answer couldn’t be an option. It’s my responsibility as commissioner to make the dreams of fans come true, especially those in need of a little light in their lives to keep themselves going through difficult challenges. That being said, I’m pleased to announce our joint venture with EdgyCola to bring baseball to the moon!”

  Gasps and sounds of shock came from the reporters seated before him. Then came thunderous applause. They loved the idea. The enthusiasm validated Hideki’s plans. He couldn’t help but crack a smile.

  “I’m sure that’s enough of a surprise to give you all sorts of questions. Let’s take a few in a moment. For now, let me introduce Dr. Joshua Gray, a physicist from the University of Michigan, who has developed a new gravity field technology that will take our venture from a dream to a reality.” Hideki motioned to him to speak.

  Dr. Gray gave a prepared speech about his gravity plating, the challenges baseball faced in an environment of low-g, and how it was irreconcilable to the current state of gameplay. The only solution would be to change the gravity itself. He spoke at length about his invention, showing slides of his construction process on the holoscreen behind him.

  “In regards to the issue of the immense power needed to create a gravimetric field, we’ve already come up with a solution.” Dr. Grey glanced at Karen Egli before returning his attention to the crowd of reporters. “The fact that the moon does not turn, and the light side almost always has direct sunlight creates a unique opportunity to place a solar array to create enough power to operate the baseball field’s gravity plates. EdgyCola’s land grants give us access within the range we require to make this happen. Without the Lunar conditions and EdgyCola’s generosity, I wouldn’t be able to make this experiment become a reality. Thank you, Ms. Egli.”

  Karen smiled. “Of course. I’m as much a baseball fan as anyone, and I’m delighted to help bring some of our Lunar customers the experience we see here on Earth.”

  Dr. Gray leaned into his mic. “Understand that this is just the beginning. If our work is successful, we can make apartments with full gravity fields. Businesses. So much more. The people of Luna, of Mars, of the International Space Station—your descendants—can live in full gravity and travel back to Earth freely without excessive use of medication to curtail the strain gravity places on their bodies. That is the end goal.”

  More clapping came from the reporters.

  “Yes,” Hideki said. “The long-term implications are much bigger than baseball, but baseball has always been a medium which not only brings joy to people, but pushes society forward. It took Dr. Gray to remind me how much our
language influenced by baseball, how civil rights were shaped by the sport. Even medicine has benefited from the resources baseball brought to it. Now, baseball will be the means to bring about the future. But first, we have to build a ballpark.” He held up his index finger.

  The reporters laughed.

  “I promised questions. Let’s get to them without further ado, shall we?” Hideki glanced around the crowded room in front of him. Several reporters clamored for questions. He pointed to an older gentleman with his hand raised.

  “Sam Lindbergh, Baseball News Daily.” The reporter pushed his glasses up on the ridge of his nose as he glanced down at notes. “Last week it was reported that the owners’ representatives moved to call a vote of no confidence in your commissionership. What does that have to do with the timing of this announcement? And if the vote goes through, how will it impact this initiative?”

  “What we’re here to address is the Lunar expansion. All other questions will be fielded by the office,” Cespedes answered before Hideki could open his mouth. The way he leaned into his microphone, he appeared as if he were ready to jump across the table and strangle the reporter.

  “Next question,” Hideki said, pointing to a woman this time.

  “Jane Slusser, Global News Today. I’m also interested as to how this initiative will survive through turmoil within the league. A future commissioner could very well put an end to this project.”

  Karen tapped her microphone, then smiled. “That’s not so much a question as a statement. EdgyCola is committed to building this project, regardless of the outcome of the commissionership vote. However, Commissioner Ichiro has done a wonderful job from what I’ve seen. I have full confidence that he will help us complete the formation of a Lunar stadium.”

  “That’s right,” Hideki said with a nod. The hostile questions came faster than he had anticipated. Opening up to the media may have been a bad idea. This might backfire. In hindsight, he should have done a simple statement and release. It was too late now. If he didn’t cut it off, it would become a disaster. “I’m sorry, but all of us have very busy schedules. This is a time for celebration and a time for expansion. The WBL looks forward to working with EdgyCola and Dr. Gray. As there are more developments, our office will keep you informed.” He waved to the crowd of reporters then stepped away from the podium.