I moaned, “What time is it?”
Mo turned toward Eric, and Eric said, “It’s about 10:30 a.m. You’ve been out for quite awhile. There’s a reporter here who wants to talk to you. He slept all night curled up on a couch in the waiting room.”
I groaned and started to raise my right arm. “Ouch!”
“Hey, don’t do that!” exclaimed Mo. “That thing’s gotta heal.”
I grinned weakly. “It was some hit. I thought I was playing baseball not football.”
Eric whispered, “I talked to Aaron, and he thinks it was a deliberate slam. I don’t know. I hope not. If it is, that’s a pretty damn complicated mess. I don’t know the catcher, but Aaron says he’s gonna get to the bottom of things.”
I said, “I’m glad the two of you are here. Where’s Aaron?”
“He’s gone back to San Antonio. He was here while you were sleeping. He was sick about having to leave, but he’s got a job, too, you know.”
“What’s the doc say about my shoulder?”
Eric said, “He should be stopping in later. I think it’s too early to know. You’ll have to talk to him. Just relax for now. Do you want us to turn on your TV?”
I said, “No, but why don’t you let that reporter in here? Is he okay? I won’t tell him any deep, dark secrets. I don’t think I know any.”
“He’s a good man,” said Mo. “He supports the team. Just tell him what you want him to know.”
When the reporter stepped up to my bed, he started to hold out a hand to shake and then he pulled it back looking sheepish. “I’m sorry, Mr. O’Rourke. That’s insensitive of me, although it was really just a stupid mistake. I’m a little sleep-deprived. Those couches aren’t the best sleeping surface for older bones.”
He introduced himself as Medford Post. He said he had twenty-five years of experience covering sports in Charlotte. He added, “And yes, my parents grew up in Massachusetts. That’s how I ended up with such an unusual name.”
I said, “I have to warn you that I don’t want to talk for a long story. I can probably give you a complete story in several more hours or tomorrow, but I thought since you’d waited so long, you should at least get to meet me.”
Medford nodded. “I won’t trouble you for long. Let me get right to something that’s bothering me. About 8:00 this morning, the Yellowjackets general manager Meyer Huggins spoke on national television about your injury.”
I turned my head to look at Eric. “Has he called here? Keep him away from the hospital if you can.”
Eric said, “They told me that he tried to call late last night, but you were asleep.”
“His statement was a little unusual,” said Medford.
I asked, “Unusual? What would Huggins say that was unusual? Did he ramble on about distractions and responsibility?”
“It was what looked like a relative lack of concern.”
“What did he say?”
“I saw it, too,” chimed in Mo. “What stuck in my head was that he said, ‘These things happen.’”
“He went a little further than that,” said Medford. “By the end of the brief interview, it sounded to me like he almost expected it to happen. How could that be?”
I pushed against the mattress with my left hand trying to make my head slightly more upright. Eric handed the bed’s controller across my body to my left hand. He said, “Here, this will be a lot easier. Don’t get too excited, though, Chase. You had a rough night last night.”
The head of the bed slowly rose, and I felt more comfortable having a conversation. I repeated Medford’s words. “Like he almost expected it to happen.”
Medford listened to me carefully. He said, “I don’t mean to derail the conversation, but has anyone ever told you what a great voice you have?”
I laughed. “No, my friends make fun of me when I slip into my announcer’s voice. I’ve wanted to be a sports announcer since I was a little kid.”
Medford said, “I’ve met some of the radio and TV greats in person, and with a little work, your voice could go places. I’m not trying to flatter you. I’m serious.”
Mo interrupted and brought the conversation back to my injury. He said, “That was a vicious tag. When his glove hit your shoulder, the impact was almost as loud as the sound of a bat hitting a ball.”
I looked at Medford. He had a kindly face, and I loved the silvery-grey mustache that spread wide across his upper lip. I said, “I think I need to cut this short for now, but I will answer a few more questions in the next few days, and when I know more, you’ll be the first to get the story.”
Medford reached across the bed and clasped the fingers of my left hand. He said, “Thank you, Chase. You’ve been more than gracious. I’ll be here waiting when you’re ready to talk more. If I need to leave the hospital, I’ll leave my number with either this gentleman or the nursing station.”
As he exited the room, I smiled at Eric and said, ”Now that’s a reporter.”
Eric nodded and said, “He was great, and he’s incredibly patient. Who do you need to call, Chase? I’ll look up the numbers for you.”
I crooked my left index finger at both Eric and Mo. I said, “Let’s huddle together, and I’ll tell you my plan.”
22
Aaron
A few days after Chase’s shoulder injury in the All-Star game, I received an unexpected call. I recognized the accented voice on the other end instantly. I said, “Javier! It’s great to hear your voice. How are you? Who has your heart these days?”
“Hello, Coach Beck.”
I said, “You don’t need to call me Coach anymore. I’m just Aaron. I miss going out together.”
“Miss you,” said Javier. “I need to make the call to you.”
There was something tentative and nervous in the sound of his voice. I felt a tickling sensation up my spine. I wondered what could make Javier nervous on a phone call to me. I also couldn’t think of a reason for him to call me.
“Have something for you…Aaron.”
“What do you have, Javier? Did I forget something back in Charlotte? Did I leave something in the locker room?”
“Recording. Can’t play for you on phone.”
“A recording?” My forehead wrinkled. I was confused.
“About Chase. About shoulder.”
My entire body shuddered. “You have a recording about something to do with Chase? What are you telling me? Does someone know something? It wasn’t an accident, was it?”
“Can’t talk,” said Javier.
Thirty seconds later, the connection ended. I shouted, “Javier!” into my phone, but it was useless.
Five minutes later, I called Eric. “Hi, Aaron. How are things in San Antonio? I saw Chase this morning, and he’s feeling a lot better. He’s talking about taking a trip to see you soon. I think he’s already getting stir crazy lying in bed.”
“Make sure he follows the doctor’s orders. I don’t want him to injure that shoulder any worse than it is.”
“I guess soon is sort of relative,” said Eric. “If he hasn’t told you already, he’s checking into the hospital here in Charlotte tomorrow. The docs want to do another surgery. They say they will know a lot more about the long-term prognosis when it’s over.”
“How long will he be in the hospital.”
“Oh, the docs said probably only one night. I offered to let him stay at my place when he gets out, but Chase insisted on going to his apartment. He said that he would hire a home nurse if he needed one.”
I smiled and said, “Thank you for the update, but the real reason I called was something else. Have you talked to Javier lately?”
“Javier?” asked Eric. “I see him every day on the ball field. He’s been going hot and heavy with a woman named Laura, so I haven’t gone out to a bar with him since at least a week before the All-Star break. Why do you ask?”
“He called me.”
“Javier called you? I’ve never seen him do anything with his phone but use it to send p
ictures to his girlfriends. Why was he calling you?”
I lowered the tone of my voice. I couldn’t figure out any way that someone might be listening, but I thought the news I had to share was mysterious and needed careful handling. “He said something about a recording that he couldn’t play over the phone.”
I heard slight laughter in Eric’s voice when he said, “Are you sure that was what he said? Sometimes Javier’s accent can be a little thick, and he can be hard to understand.”
I grumbled, “I know Javier. Remember, I used to go out with all of you, too. I heard him clearly.”
“What kind of recording would he have? Is it something about baseball.”
“He said it’s about Chase.”
“That’s weird.”
Thirty seconds of dead airspace passed between us. I said, “I’m coming to Charlotte.”
“Will they let you do that? You only started coaching in San Antonio about a month back.”
I spoke firmly and said, “I’m taking the risk. I have a day off coming soon. I’ll fly to Charlotte in the morning, and I’ll fly back to San Antonio the next morning. I don’t think I can fly direct. I’ll probably have to connect through Atlanta. Will you or Mo pick me up at the airport?”
“You can count on us. It will be great to see you, and Chase will be over the moon. He still talks about you every day.”
I whispered, “I think about him every hour.”
Eric said, “I’ve gotta run for now. Text me the travel details. I’ve never seen two better people in love than you and Chase. I want you to know that I’m always on your side.”
I hung up from the call and smiled. When I first set foot in San Antonio, I worried that I would lose both my friends and lover in Charlotte. I was happy to know that wasn’t the case.
I didn’t tell the RoadRunners management about my plans to travel to Charlotte on the upcoming day off. The only person in San Antonio I trusted with the information was Harv. I said, “The official story is I needed to get out of town for a day, so I headed north for an overnight in Austin. I’ll be back before noon, and it won’t affect batting practice at all.”
Harv looked into my eyes and said, “If you uncover any opportunities, I know we’re going to lose you to Charlotte. I hear it in everything you say. Your heart hasn’t moved here, and it’s not coming anytime soon.”
I patted Harv on the back and said, “You might be right about that, but it has nothing to do with you. If I could figure out how to swing it, I’d bring you back with me to Charlotte on the first flight. They would love you out there, and you would love working with Mo. Every guy on the staff looks up to him, and he’s easy to coach.”
Harv grinned. “I’ll hold you to that if I see a job opening.”
23
Chase
I might as well have gone home with Eric after my shoulder surgery. He insisted on taking care of me, so when I decided that I wanted to go to my apartment, Eric brought over two suitcases and spread out sheets and blankets to make a bed for himself on my couch.
I called from the bedroom, “There are professionals to take care of people like me.”
“You don’t need a professional. You’ll be up and around and be doing everything you need to do on your own soon. I’m making sure you don’t jump the gun and do something that makes you end up back in the hospital.”
The news from the doctors wasn’t positive. They waited to talk to me about the prognosis until they could lower the level of painkillers enough so that the signs on the wall weren’t moving anymore when I stared at them. My surgeon and a physical therapist came to talk to me at the same time. Their faces were stony and severe when they entered the room.
Eric excused himself and said, “I’ll be out in the waiting room.”
I watched Eric exit into the hall. His shoulders slumped. He knew that it wasn’t good news. I wasn’t sure that I wanted him to leave, but I set my jaw and waited to hear the prognosis.
Doctor Marlowe, my surgeon. said, “We have some good news to share.”
I said, “You could have fooled me by the look on your faces.” I pointed at Cyril, the physical therapist, and said, “That guy looks like he’s preparing for my wake.”
One corner of Cyril’s mouth curled up into a half-smile. “We can guarantee that a wake won’t be necessary for years to come.”
“I’m relieved.”
Doctor Marlowe said, “The good news is that you will be able to use the shoulder. You might need to take special care, but you will be able to lift things, and we’re hoping for the recovery of nearly a full range of movement.”
I tilted my head to the right and said, “That doesn’t sound so bad. Why the long faces? Is there something I’m not thinking about?”
Doctor Marlowe added, “We’re not sure if you will be able to play baseball. You could do pickup games, but we’re not sure your shoulder will ever be stable enough to handle the rigors of the professional game. Another injury like you suffered in New York could render your shoulder useless for any tasks that require movement of the joint.”
I asked, “What about a shoulder replacement? They do those, don’t they?”
Cyril shook his head while the doctor said, “The nature of the injuries left you as a poor candidate for the success of reconstruction. I would recommend against that line of treatment. I discussed it thoroughly with my orthopedic colleagues, and we all agreed.”
I looked from one to the other and said, “So you’re saying it’s over.”
The words felt like a sucker punch to the gut. My heart pounded in my chest. I was only 22 years old. My career couldn’t be over. I had at least fifteen years ahead of me in peak condition.
Doctor Marlowe shook his head. “We can’t guarantee anything. It’s possible that you will make a full recovery, and the shoulder joint will surprise us with its stability. Unfortunately, I believe it’s a matter of medical ethics that I inform you of the likely outcome.”
I stared down at my right arm. Suddenly, it seemed like I had an entirely useless appendage. I squeezed the fingers of my right hand into a fist and then opened them again. I looked up at the doctors. “Is there anything else you want to add? You already told me my career is crashing down. Is there anything you want to pile on top of that?”
Cyril hung his head while Doctor Marlowe added, “We will begin physical therapy very soon within the next three days. That is the best hope of rebuilding a stable joint. Cyril is the best we have in the hospital. If there is any possibility of returning to the baseball diamond with your shoulder, Cyril will make sure it happens.”
I waved my left hand at them. “I think I need to be alone now.” They started to turn around. I said, “Not completely alone. Send Eric back in here. Maybe if I strangle him, I’ll feel better.” I laughed at my black humor.
When Eric walked into the room, he said, “Wow, Chase. When I saw the docs, I was worried that you’d gone into cardiac arrest. They were the picture of doom and gloom.”
I looked up at my best friend. I said, “It’s over.”
He wrinkled his brow. “What’s over? I don’t get it.”
“My baseball career. The doctor said the shoulder wouldn’t be stable enough. I’ll have to quit baseball.”
Eric rubbed his chin. “Are you sure that’s what they said? I talked to them before I came back. They weren’t 100% on anything.”
I pouted. “It might as well have been what they said. They tried to paint a little gilded lining onto a thundercloud.”
“The doc told me he’s worried that’s what will happen. I don’t believe it. I know you, Chase, and you don’t give up. We’ll work with that PT guy, and we’ll whip you back in shape. Before you know it, you’ll be in the All-Star game again. Mark my words!”
I said, “I want to quit.”
Eric reached out to fluff the blankets. He said, “No, you don’t. You’re a star. You’re going to be one of the best outfielders who ever lived. They are already reserving a p
laque for you at the Hall of Fame in Cooperstown.”
In a dull monotone, I said, “I’m going to quit.”
I watched as Eric stumbled backward into the chair by the bed. He lowered his head into his hands, and he wept. I watched his shoulders heave. His hands muffled his voice, but I heard him say, “No!”
I wanted to reach out and comfort him, but he was on my right side, and I couldn’t reach far enough with my left. I said, “It’s okay. Seriously, it is okay. There’s so much more that I can do with my life, and I’ve got the best friends in the world. I didn’t say that I’m leaving baseball entirely. I said that I think I need to quit playing on the field. I don’t want to lose the shoulder and arm. You don’t want me to lose it either.”
Eric raised his head and pushed his hair back from his forehead. He asked, “Will you be moving to San Antonio? I guess that makes sense now.”
“I don’t know how to answer that yet. I haven’t talked to Aaron at all. I doubt that he’s planning to stay in San Antonio permanently. He’s only a coach there. He’s not the manager.”
Turning my head, I watched Eric closely. He was disturbed by my comments. I quietly spoke in the announcer’s voice, “The star prospect is stricken by an injury. The sports world reels in shock.”
Eric shook his head. “Yeah, that’s the way they will be. I’ll stick with you whatever you decide, Chase, even if I don’t agree. I’m your friend first. Baseball comes second.”
I asked, “Can you do me a big favor as a friend?”
“Yep, I can. What do you want?”
“Please don’t tell anyone I’m planning to quit before I’m ready to speak out in public. Keep it to yourself, please?”
I nodded. “Of course.”
My vow to remain silent echoed in my head as I fluffed up the pillows on Chase’s bed so he would be more comfortable sitting up with his laptop computer. I said, “The reporters will ask more questions soon. I think that shoulder is healing well. Maybe you can give them an uplifting statement.”
A Brand New Ballgame Page 13