After the press mauled me when I got off the plane in Charlotte, my new supervisor Ben Eckert, the Yellowjackets’ head batting coach, stepped in and parted the crowd. He said, “That’s enough for now. Let the man settle in. He’ll be available soon enough to answer the rest of your questions.”
I heard well-meaning words of welcome as the crowd dissipated. Turning to Ben, I said, “Hey, thank you, and it’s great to meet. I hope you don’t mind if it takes a few days for me to settle back in. I need to familiarize myself with not being the one in charge again.”
Ben shrugged. He said, “That’s the way it goes when you’re climbing the ladder. You’re really young. One day you’ll be back in charge. You can count on that.”
“And tomorrow is opening day?”
“Yep, it is. I told the reporters to give you the rest of the day off, so you can settle in at the hotel. Tomorrow, I’ll introduce you to the players at batting practice. I’m sorry about the media. I can only keep them at bay for so long. You’re a novelty for now. They’ve never seen a big league coach who looks like he’s fresh out of college.”
I swept my fingers through my dark brown hair. I thought the press attention was minor compared to what was likely to happen when I met my goal of managing before 40. “At least it draws some more attention to the Yellowjackets. Maybe it will light a fire under the team. It can be a spotlight that helps kick off a great season.”
Ben sighed. “We can hope. The last two years have been rough around here. Shepherding an expansion franchise is a thankless task in the game. The first hordes of fans come to the stadium with huge hopes for a World Series berth. Then they see their dreams dashed by July, and they stay home. It’s a rough road.”
3
Chase
I tried to calm the butterflies in my gut. I’d never met a big league baseball general manager before. He was holed up in his office when I was brought up in the previous season. When Eric and I arrived in Charlotte, I received word from our field manager that Meyer Huggins wanted to see me in his office before opening day practice. The notification set off alarm bells in my head. I wondered if they were trading me, or if I’d done something wrong.
I asked Eric about his opinion. He wasn’t helpful. “Damn, I have no idea. I’ve only seen Huggins on TV or sitting up in the stands during a game. I always assume keeping a distance from owners and GMs is a good thing. I’ll keep my fingers crossed for you. Surely, they aren’t thinking of canning you before the season even begins.”
Huggins’ office didn’t look anything like the rest of the stadium. Charlotte put together a new stadium for the Yellowjackets’ in the popular old-fashioned style. The stadium’s walls were red brick, and a hand-operated scoreboard rose above the outfield. Meyer Huggins’ office was all gleaming steel, chrome, and glass. His secretary ushered me inside.
Huggins sat behind his desk wearing a charcoal suit with a pink shirt and a deep purple tie. If I didn’t already know that he had a wife and three kids, I might have thought he was an option for dating.
He was a bear of a man. As Huggins stood, I noted the barrel chest that was even more imposing in person than on TV. I’d heard he played football in college, and I understood why when I saw him face to face.
I couldn’t ascertain his mood at first glance. Huggins had a full beard and a thick mustache on his upper lip that partially obscured his facial expression. His hair was pitch black and wavy.
Huggins reached out a massive, fleshy hand and said, “Welcome, Chase.” He smiled broadly. “There’s no reason to worry. All the players who come to meet me think I’m getting rid of them. I summoned you to talk, not say goodbye.”
I was relieved as I took his hand. He had a firm grip that he tightened until I worried that he might crush the small bones and tendons I used for my batting grip. Fortunately, he released my hand before the shake became painful. After taking a deep breath, I said, “I’m relieved to hear that.”
He gestured to an empty chair and said, “Sit, please.”
I did my best to relax into the steel-framed seat. “Your office…it’s impressive.”
He chuckled. “The fans love all that old brick and a scoreboard that looks like it was a prop in Pride of the Yankees. I prefer to live in the present.”
I nodded and said, “Yes, Sir.”
“Oh, call me Meyer. 35 isn’t old enough to be called Sir.” He sat and then leaned back in his chair folding his hands together. “I called you here because I think you have the potential to be the star of the Charlotte Yellowjackets, and with stardom comes responsibility.”
“Responsibility?”
He nodded and stroked his thick, black beard. “Yes. I took this position with an expansion franchise for one reason. Do you know what that is?”
I smiled weakly. “Because you love Charlotte?”
He leaned forward. “Don’t tell anyone, but I’m not that fond of Charlotte. The heat is stifling. If the weather were a primary consideration, I’d rather live in Anchorage, Alaska.”
“I guess I don’t know then.”
“I want to prove that an expansion franchise can win a World Series in its third season. The Arizona Diamondbacks did it in their fourth. We’re going to do it in our third.”
I started to count on my fingers. “That’s this season.”
Meyer chuckled. “Who says baseball players aren’t smart? Yes, that’s this season, and you’re going to lead us there, Chase.”
I held my hand to my chest. “Me?” Thoughts began racing through my head. I knew that I could play well on my own, but taking responsibility for being the catalyst for my entire team was a tall order. I was still a rookie to most, and rookies don’t often lead teams to world championships.
He said, “You. I also have something specific to mention. It’s an observation that was made about your time in Florida this spring.”
I grinned. “Oh, yeah. Spring training went well. I was myself again. I know that my performance last September wasn’t so hot.”
“Not on the field.”
“Then where?”
“I was told you had a romantic relationship with a man down in Florida.”
I blinked my eyes. Huggins had to be talking about Brandon, but I did my best to be discreet in Florida. Eric figured out I was gay from my behavior, but he didn’t know about Brandon. I squirmed in my seat. I wondered if I was in the process of being outed publicly, and I feared the attack of the media vultures.
Meyer held up a hand. “I have an idea what you must be thinking, but whether you’re gay, straight, or bisexual is no concern to me. What does concern me is the presence of a distraction.”
“But…how did you know?”
He narrowed his eyes. “The bases have eyes.”
I glanced around the office and wondered if I’d walked into the middle of some bizarre TV show. His comment was strange, and I felt like a bug in a jar observed by the 8-year-old boy who caught me in the backyard.
Meyer laughed. “It doesn’t matter how I found out, but relationships can become a distraction. Particularly ones that are new and naturally unsettled.” He leaned forward again and said, “I want your focus. Baseball is where your heart and mind will be for this season. It will be a singular, narrow concentration. Do you understand?”
He was serious, and his sheer bulk made him threatening. I wasn’t planning on a relationship, so his request wasn’t a bothersome thing to ask. I said, “Yes, baseball is my sole focus. You can count on me. I’ll help lead the team.”
“Not help. You will lead the team.”
I shivered as I nodded. “I’ll lead the team.”
Eric found me as soon as I entered the locker room. “So what’s the deal? Is he sending you off to Cincinnati?”
I sat on the bench and shook my head. “No, it’s nothing like that.”
Eric sat beside me and leaned in close. “Well, what is it then?”
“He wants a World Series.”
“Don’t we all?”
My voice was flat in tone when I said, “He wants it this year.”
“This year? Who’s he kidding? We’re an expansion team. We’re like the Island of Misfit Toys. No expansion team has ever won a World Series in just three years.”
I lowered my head into my hands and spoke in a low tone. “I told him I would lead us to it.”
Eric leaned in shoulder to shoulder. “What? I didn’t catch that. Speak up, Chase.”
I looked up at Eric and smirked. “I told him I’d make sure he got his wish.”
With his hand on my shoulder, Eric asked, “Should I say goodbye now? Or should I wait until August when we’re trying to climb out of the cellar?”
The butterflies in my stomach expanded from a small group of three or four to a full flock. Still, I decided it wasn’t time to wimp out on anything. I knew Huggins was serious about what he wanted, but he had to know that every force in the game of baseball was working against us. I would do my best, but if we failed, that was the way of the game.
I pulled my head out of my hands and looked up at Eric. “We’re gonna do it.”
“C’mon, Chase, seriously. Why don’t you try to be a little more practical? A .500 record is more realistic. Why don’t we shoot for that?”
I put a hand on Eric’s thigh and asked, “Are you with me?”
“Well, of course, I am, but…”
“No buts, Eric. We’re not going to try. We’re going to do. You’re going to help me in the dugout. Let’s take this team to the series.”
I stared into Eric’s eyes and saw him cringe. I asked, “Is there something else?”
“Well, maybe this is the time to tell you about something that might make things a little more complicated. I think you’d better know before you find out on the field.”
Eric’s face blanched white. I asked, “What is it? You almost look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
“You might feel like you see a ghost when you go out on the field.”
I wrinkled my forehead in confusion. “Spit it out. What’s going on? What’s out on the field.”
“Well, you know that manager back in Chattanooga?”
A tingling sensation raced up my spine. Something was up with Aaron. I said, “Yeah, what’s up? Do you know something about him? Is he okay.”
“He’s more than okay. He’s here.”
“Here where?”
“Here in Charlotte,” said Eric. “I think he’s already out on the field.”
“What’s he doing here? Do they have some ceremony with the minor league managers at the start of the season?”
Eric shook his head. He cringed again when he said, “He’s here because he’s on the coaching staff. They just brought him up. I heard that he arrived in Charlotte yesterday.”
I gripped both of Eric’s shoulders. “What? You’ve got to be kidding. What’s he coaching?”
“Assistant batting coach.” Eric pointed to the tunnel out of the locker room. “If you don’t believe me then go out there and check. I wouldn’t lie to you.”
I stared at Eric and muttered, “Fuck!” I wondered if any player ever experienced such a complicated opening day.
I tried to keep myself calm when I exited the locker room tunnel and entered the Charlotte stadium for my first opening day as a major league player. I walked behind Mo Sadler. He had a long, loping stride, and I found myself taking more steps to keep up with him. As we stepped into the sunlight, I couldn’t stop myself from reaching up, grabbing Mo’s shoulder, and shouting, “Damn! Can you believe it? It’s the big time, Mo!”
Mo turned and smiled. “It’s season sixteen for me. You’d think I’d be used to it by now. My heart still pounds at the start of the season. Don’t lose this feeling, Chase. You want it every year. It will push you forward better than anything else. Let your brain and your body soar.”
I scanned the coaches and players on the field, and I didn’t see Aaron anywhere. Ben Eckert, our head batting coach, was supervising the start of practice like nothing unusual was going on. As Eric drew up to my side, he said, “I wasn’t lying. I heard it from multiple guys. I don’t think it’s just a rumor.”
Standing at home plate waiting for batting practice pitches, I suddenly felt overwhelmed by the sheer size of the stadium. I played in it at the end of the previous season, but that all looked like a fog in my memory. While he waited on deck, Eric understood the look on my face. He stepped up to me and said, “The field is the same size as the minor league parks. Those fences in the outfield aren’t any further away.”
In fact, all baseball stadiums are slightly different sizes from each other, but Eric was right. The outfield fences were roughly the same distance away as they were in a minor league stadium. It was just the stands where the fans sat that were ten times bigger.
I smiled when I sent the first batting practice pitch sailing over the right-field fence. By the time I wrapped up my first session of batting practice, my teammates had gathered around and slapped me on my shoulders. I heard a familiar voice in the distance proclaiming, “He’s a natural!”
Aaron exited the dugout, and my knees wobbled. The Yellowjackets uniform was perfectly tailored to fit his body, and he was smiling ear to ear. For a second, I thought everything would be fine. We could sail into the World Series together with the rest of the team in tow and sort out any other issues in the off-season. I handed Eric the bat and smiled back at Aaron. I said, “Aww, man, thanks for saying that.”
4
Aaron
The new coaching assignment wasn’t going to be simple and figuring out my relationship with Chase would be even more complicated. During batting practice, I encouraged Chase and Eric, one of his teammates, to keep their focus on the game. They looked at me in unison with frowns on their faces. I said, “I know you’ll do that. I’m trying to settle in.” My admonishment was successful for the moment. It quieted their laughing and joking as they both jogged off to the outfield to continue their warmups for opening day.
Chase played right field, and Eric played center. I did my best to be discreet when I checked Eric out. They were very friendly with each other. I tried to imagine the two of them in bed, and something about the picture didn’t work. I couldn’t see Eric’s lips kissing another man’s, but he seemed to love Chase’s company. I hoped it was a romantic relationship, but my guess was their connection was only platonic. If it was romantic, I knew that it would make my job easier.
Ben left batting practice in my hands, and after another forty-five minutes, I closed it down. I scanned the field watching the rest of the Yellowjackets. Eric was hanging out in the bullpen chatting with pitchers, but Chase wasn’t with him. Finally, I spotted Chase slowly jogging along the perimeter of the outfield. He hung his head forward as if he was deep in thought. I wasn’t surprised. I guessed that opening day was a huge day for anyone who made it to the majors. I didn’t know from firsthand experience as a player. I was nervous enough as a coach.
The rest of the coaching staff was distracted. Fighting a gut feeling that I was messing with essential aspects of team morale just before our first game, I jogged out in Chase’s direction. As I drew closer, I watched his smooth, slow strides, and I imagined him sliding into a base. He had tremendous natural baseball talent, and he looked great putting it into practice.
Chase was diligent about working out in the gym, and that meant he had upper body strength that helped him power balls over the fence for home runs while still maintaining the speed to chase down fly balls in the outfield. If someone asked me to describe the appearance of the ideal baseball player, he would look a lot like Chase O’Rourke.
As I approached, I saw that Chase had his sandy brown hair buzzed short. It was short enough that it only cast a light shadow at the nape of his neck. I tried to stop myself from thinking about kissing the back of his neck. He was so intent on staring at the ground that he didn’t notice me until I was only about three strides away.
I moved up from behind to t
ry to jog in step, but Chase stopped abruptly. He turned in my direction and asked, “Are you trying to sneak up on me? What gives?”
I laughed softly. “I just wanted to catch up with you before the game. I don’t think we’ve been in touch since before Christmas. Is everything going well?”
Chase threw his arms in the air and grinned. The smile was insincere. He said, “It’s opening day of my first full rookie season! How could things not be going well?” Chase pulled his arms down and leaned in toward me. “How’s your day?” He paused for effect and added, “Coach!”
Chase spoke the words with a dramatic emphasis that was all show. The message didn’t come from the calm, relaxed temperament I knew back in Chattanooga. Chase was on edge. I expected it. I said, “It’s going to take some settling in. I planned to rise to a major league coaching staff, but I didn’t expect it to be in Charlotte and any earlier than three years from now. I thought they would keep me in the minors until I found another team that wanted me on their big league staff.”
Chase leaned back on his rear leg and turned his head slightly sideways giving me a long glance. “And so here you are. I really didn’t expect to see you much anymore. I thought I might see you occasionally when I stared across the field at the opposing team’s dugout.”
I said, “I’m happy we’re here together.” I was worried, too, but I didn’t add that nugget of information.
Chase’s hard expression began to melt into a half-smile. “Really? Are you happy to see me? Maybe we could have a drink…”
I cut the words off and said, “But we can’t do that. I think we need to lay some ground rules right now. It’s important for both of us.”
His expression hardened again as he asked, “Ground rules? Aren’t we both adults? I don’t have any ground rules for any of my other coaches or teammates.”
“Not even for Eric?”
A Brand New Ballgame Page 3