“An agent?” Alex said. “You’re talking to an agent? That’s gotta be against the rules.”
“He’s not really giving me anything,” Matt said. “He’s just trying to help me out.”
Jonas was the first one to snort in disgust, but Alex and Max weren’t far behind.
“Just trying to help?” Jonas said. “Have you ever read about these guys? They’re only trying to help themselves.”
“What do you mean, not ‘really’ giving you anything?” Max said, his voice very low.
Matt shrugged. “He’s bought me dinner a couple of times—that’s all.”
Alex banged his hand on the table. He was actually angry. “After what you put yourself through in the fall, how can you possibly go near this guy?” he asked. “First of all, you don’t need any help. Your talent is all you need. Second, if you do need any help, you go to Coach Birdy. He wants to help you. Not this guy.”
“Since when are you an expert?” Matt said. Now it was his turn to be angry.
“It doesn’t take a genius to know you stay away from agents until you’re a pro. What if you jeopardized your eligibility by letting the guy buy you dinner?”
Matt stood up. “I told you guys because I wanted you to understand why I’m thinking about doing this,” he said. “I don’t need to be lectured.”
“What’d Christine say when you told her?” Alex asked. He couldn’t stop himself.
“She said it was an interesting idea,” Matt said.
“Did you tell her about the agent?” Max asked.
“What difference does that make?” Matt said.
“Why don’t you go tell her and see what she says,” Alex said.
“Okay,” Matt said. “I will.”
He picked up his lunch and walked over to the table where Christine was sitting, pulling up a chair so he could sit next to her.
“What in the world was I thinking when I said that?” Alex said.
“That,” Jonas said, “is a very good question.”
It occurred to Alex as he was walking into French class that maybe sending Matt to talk to Christine wasn’t the dumbest thing he’d ever done. He now had an excuse to talk to Christine without appearing to be pressuring her.
When class ended—five hours later, in Alex’s estimation—he followed her out the door. As soon as he was in the hallway, he called her name. She was a few steps in front of him, walking quickly. Hearing his voice, she stopped and turned around. Her arms were folded across her chest.
“You look angry or something,” Alex said. “Am I not supposed to talk to you at all?”
“Of course not,” she said, with just a hint of a smile. “What’s up?”
“Did Matt tell you about the agent?” he asked.
“Yes, he did,” she said. “He said you and Max and Jonas were giving him a hard time about it.”
“You think we were wrong to give him a hard time about it?” Alex said. “He could get in a lot of trouble.”
Christine shook her head and Alex saw the “too stupid to live” look. “Just to be sure, I sent Stevie Thomas an email because I know he’s dealt with agents a lot,” she said. “He got back to me just before last period. Talking to an agent is fine for an amateur as long as he doesn’t give you money or as long as you don’t sign anything that says he represents you.”
Alex knew that Christine was friends with Stevie Thomas, the teenage reporter who had become famous for breaking big stories at major sporting events. Thomas was now a high school junior and did some work for the Philadelphia Daily News, where Christine’s father worked.
“What did he say about an agent buying an amateur dinner?”
Christine looked at him quizzically. “Matt didn’t say anything about that,” she said. “But I can’t imagine one dinner is all that big a deal.”
“First, it was two dinners—at least,” Alex said. “Second, from what I’ve heard, when it comes to agents, anything can be a big deal. The NCAA has about a million rules.”
“If Matt turns pro, he’ll never deal with the NCAA,” she pointed out.
“What about the high school athletic association?”
She frowned. “No idea,” she said.
“Maybe you should ask your friend Stevie about that,” he said, then realized he was speaking in a sarcastic tone.
“What do you mean, my friend Stevie?” she said, picking up on his tone the way she always did.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean it that way.”
She actually smiled. “Okay, apology accepted. But you’re right, I should check with him.”
She put her hands on her hips, lost in thought for a moment.
“What are you thinking about?” he asked.
“I’m just wondering why Matt didn’t mention the dinners to me,” she said. “He had to know I’d find out about it since he’d told you guys already.”
Alex didn’t have an answer for that one. Except…
“Maybe he thought that since you and I aren’t seeing each other so much, you wouldn’t talk to me or Jonas or Max about it.”
She thought about that for a minute.
“Maybe you’re right,” she said.
She smiled at him, that mesmerizing smile.
“Would you like to have lunch at Stark’s on Saturday?” she said.
Alex’s heart went to his throat. He was tempted to crush her with a hug.
He settled for a smile of his own.
“Sure,” he said. “Sounds good.”
Alex might have danced his way to the locker room if it wouldn’t have been completely humiliating….So he tried to play it cool, but he must have had a silly grin on his face when he walked into the locker room because Jonas looked at him for about five seconds and said, “Okay, what happened?”
“What?” Alex said, knowing the giveaway grin was plastered all over his face.
“Something happened with Christine, didn’t it?”
“Sort of.”
“What does ‘sort of’ mean?”
“She said she wants to have lunch at Stark’s on Saturday,” Alex said.
“Whoa!” Jonas said. “Good job. When should I be there?”
Alex started to say something but then realized that Jonas was giving him a hard time.
“Come at about one,” he said.
“You’re meeting at eleven-thirty, aren’t you? Maybe I’ll just come with Max and Matt and we can sit in a booth nearby.”
“Max,” Alex said firmly, “is fine. Leave Matt home.”
They both laughed. It occurred to Alex that it had been a while since he had laughed.
Coach Birdy had intentionally scheduled a “win” for their last nonconference game. St. Mary’s had just started a baseball program and was 0–4. They’d been outscored 31–2 in the four games.
Naturally, it wasn’t Coach Birdy who shared those statistics—it was the all-knowing Matt Gordon. “Everyone will play,” he predicted as they warmed up before practice on Thursday afternoon. “I’ll bet you don’t pitch more than three innings, Goldie. He’ll get the other guys some innings and make sure you’re ready for Tuesday, if needed.”
“You think I’ll be needed with you pitching?” Alex asked.
“Hope not,” Matt said. “But Bryn Mawr Tech’s always pretty good.”
As usual, Matt’s predictions were on target. It was 7–0 when Alex retired the side in order in the top of the third, and Coach Birdy waved him over as he came into the dugout.
“Good job,” he said. “I’m going to give you the rest of the day off. I’m taking Matt out too. There’s no reason to humiliate these guys.”
Alex was disappointed. He had only walked one in three innings and hadn’t given up a hit. Given the quality of the opposition, he might have had a chance to pitch a no-hitter if he stayed in.
He started to say something about the no-hitter but changed his mind. “Okay, Coach,” he said.
Coach Birdy read his mind. “I know you hav
en’t given up a hit, but I need to make sure you’re fresh if I need you to pitch behind Matt on Tuesday. That’s more important.”
Alex nodded.
Coach Birdy let the team’s other four pitchers go an inning each. Everyone played. The final score was 13–2.
“Could’ve been twenty-five to nothing, if we’d wanted,” Matt said as they trudged out of the dugout to shake hands with their bedraggled opponents. Alex noticed the two coaches hugging each other. His guess was that the St. Mary’s coach was grateful to Coach Birdy for going as easy on his team as possible.
As soon as they’d gone through the handshake line, Alex saw that several TV cameras had magically appeared next to the dugout.
“What’s that about?” he said to Jonas.
Jonas pointed at Matt, who had jogged over to the cameras.
“I think our buddy likes being a media star again,” he said. “Christine told me after English class today that the Daily News will have a big Sunday piece on how he’s resurrected his athletic career as a baseball player.”
“But why would they be here for this game?” Alex said. “He had two at-bats, and that was it. He didn’t even pitch.”
Jonas shrugged. “Beats me,” he said. “But the two of you do manage to attract a lot of attention, one way or the other. I have a feeling this is just the beginning.”
Alex and Jonas took a wide path so they would stay out of the way of the cameras. Even so, Alex could hear Matt responding to a question as they walked by the scrum of cameras and tape recorders.
“I think once conference play begins, I’ll be ready to show people my best stuff,” Matt was saying. “I don’t think anyone has seen it yet.”
“Good thing we play baseball outdoors,” Jonas hissed.
“Why?”
“Because his ego wouldn’t fit anyplace indoors.”
Christine was waiting for Alex when he walked into Stark’s at 11:25 the next morning. The weather had finally started to warm up, and she was wearing a short-sleeved blue blouse, cutoff jeans, and sneakers. Her hair was tied back in a ponytail, which was the way she usually wore it when she was riding her bicycle.
Alex noticed she was already drinking an ice tea, which meant she’d been there a few minutes.
“Pretty eager to see me,” he said, nodding at the tea as he slid into the booth, across from her. “Guess you got here early.”
For a split second, he thought he’d put his foot in his mouth again, coming across as cocky—when he felt anything but cocky.
But she smiled, which was a relief.
“You’re right, Alex. I was awake all night counting the minutes until I’d see you again,” she said. Then, still smiling, she said, “Stop trying so hard.”
She was right. He was trying too hard.
“So, how worried are you about Matt?” she said, a fast transition that caught him off guard.
“Hang on,” he said. “Did you ask me here to interview me?”
“No,” she said firmly before he could go any further. “I’m asking because I’m concerned about him as a friend and want to know what you think—presumably also as a friend.”
She paused for a moment. “I asked you to lunch because I wanted to see you.”
If, at that moment, she had asked Alex to reveal all his darkest secrets and break into the Pentagon on her behalf, he would have done it.
“Well, you said there wasn’t really anything to worry about,” he said. “He can talk to an agent—”
“Agents,” she said, cutting in. “It isn’t just one now. There are about four recruiting him. Do you know how many teams are going to have scouts at Tuesday’s game? Twenty—or more. That doesn’t even count the colleges.”
“How do you know all this?”
She reached to her left and picked up a thick printout from the seat next to her. She tossed it on the table. “This will be up on the web at noon and in tomorrow’s paper.”
It was the Philadelphia Daily News story that Jonas had mentioned the day before. It was written by Dick Jerardi, whom Alex had first met during football season. Alex glanced at the lead:
Matt Gordon honestly thought his athletic career might be over last November, when he was suspended from the Chester Heights football team after admitting to using performance-enhancing drugs. Not only did he have to sit out the state championship game, but his father, Matthew Gordon Sr., was fired as Chester Heights’ coach in the wake of the scandal.
“It was humiliating in every possible way,” Gordon said. “The worst part was that I did it to myself. I came very close to going to a boarding school somewhere—just to escape from the whole thing. I’m glad now I stuck it out.”
Gordon stuck it out because it occurred to him that the suspension could be a blessing in disguise. He had always wanted to play baseball—which he thought was his best sport—but his father had never allowed him to do so. Now, after his suspension was lifted in time for the start of baseball season, he’s playing the game he loves most and opening a lot of eyes with his prowess.
“He’s one of the best pitching prospects I’ve seen around here in the last ten years,” said one major league scout, who can’t be quoted by name because MLB teams aren’t allowed to discuss players who still have high school or college eligibility remaining. “He’s amazingly mature, has great control for a kid so young, and understands how to pitch. You don’t see all that in a high school junior very often.”
Alex looked up. The story was very long, and he could see where it was going.
“It goes on forever,” he said.
“I know,” she said. “It’s almost three thousand words. It’ll get national attention. You’d better be ready for that on Tuesday.”
Alex shrugged. “Like we haven’t been through it before?”
She nodded. “True. But I’m worried about Matt. In the fall, he didn’t look like the pressure was getting to him, but it did—which is why he took the PEDs. Now he’s reveling in the attention, and I’m worried he’s going to make another mistake.”
“What kind of mistake?”
“I honestly don’t know. All the agents are a concern—that’s for sure. I talked to Coach Birdy on background the other day, and he said he thinks Matt’s crazy to give up his last year of high school. But if he says that to him, it will look self-serving.”
“He’s right—on both points.”
“I know. Problem is, Matt’s really got no one to talk to about this. He doesn’t speak to his dad, who has apparently moved out of the house. His mom doesn’t know anything about this world. So he needs us.”
“Us?” Alex laughed. “Matt might listen to you. He’s not listening to me.”
“I’ve got someone else in mind….”
“Who?”
Christine nodded in the direction of the front of the restaurant. On cue, Stevie Thomas was walking toward the booth.
Stevie Thomas was not, by any stretch, physically imposing. He was, Alex guessed, no more than five nine, and he had curly brown hair. That said, he was one of those people who made you like them almost instantly. Alex had met him in the fall during his football crisis. He remembered something Christine had said about him then: “He’s usually the smartest guy in the room. But he never gives you the impression that he thinks that.”
Now Stevie walked to the booth with a smile on his face and his hand out.
“How’s the three-sport star?” he said as Alex stood up to greet him. “Sit down, Alex, please. Hiya, Christine.”
He slid into the booth, next to Christine.
“Alex, I swear, if you weren’t such a good athlete, I’d sign you up to work with me,” he said. “Stories have a way of finding you wherever you go.”
“You find tons of stories,” Christine said.
“I go out looking. But Alex is just trying to play ball and ends up smack in the middle of one story after another.”
“This one’s not really about me,” Alex said.
“I know,” Ste
vie said. “It’s about Matt. But he’s your friend, your teammate, and a lot of what happened to you in the fall was because of him.”
Alex didn’t really feel like walking through all that again. It was Christine who jumped into the void left by Alex’s silence.
“The question is, what can we do?” she asked, looking at Stevie. “We both have a feeling that Matt’s headed down a dangerous path with all these agents and scouts. I mean, he’s played all of five high school baseball games….”
Stevie paused as Alex’s and Christine’s hamburgers arrived. He ordered one himself, then sat back in the cushioned seat.
“Yeah, the agents are bad news. Any agent who’s chasing around after a high school kid is looking for some kind of quick fix for his business. The first thing Matt should do is ask who their other clients are. I guarantee you none of them are repping Clayton Kershaw or Madison Bumgarner or, for that matter, Bruce Chen.”
Stevie knew who Kershaw and Bumgarner were—two of the best pitchers in baseball. He wasn’t so sure about Chen.
“Bruce Chen?” he said.
Stevie smiled. “Just retired about a year ago. Pitched in the majors for seventeen years. Point is, I’ll bet these guys chasing Matt are small-timers. They’re hoping to catch lightning in a bottle with Matt—or any one of the dozen other kids they’re probably romancing. Happens all the time.”
“So what do we do?” Christine asked.
“An intervention,” Stevie said. “I think your friend needs an intervention before it’s too late. And, as Yogi Berra might have said, it gets late early when agents are involved. Very early.”
Alex had read about interventions. But they involved addicts—people who drank too much or were addicted to drugs.
“Aren’t interventions for people with addiction problems?” he said.
Steve smiled. So too, Alex noticed, did Christine.
“An intervention can be about almost anything,” Stevie said. “It just means that a group of people who care about someone get together to tell that person they think he or she needs help dealing with a problem. Matt has a problem that he didn’t create—except in the sense that he’s a very talented baseball player. But based on what Christine’s told me, he needs help with all that’s happening to him right now. Anyone his age would need help.”
The DH Page 9