If only he knew.
Coach pulled everyone into a huddle, offering up one of his famous pep talks. Yes, we knew we were playing the Yankees, and yes, we wanted revenge after losing that last damn game to them. Sometimes I think he forgot we were grown men. When we started talking strategy, lineup, and expectations, it got more interesting — it was a part of the game I loved. Ten minutes later, we were ready to warm up.
“Newman!” he yelled as I walked past him.
“Yeah, Coach.” I rushed over a little too eagerly to see what he wanted. I could tell because his dark eyes narrowed as I jogged over.
“You doing okay?”
He was looking at me strangely.
“Hell, yeah. Been waiting months for today to get here.”
He nodded. “Alright. I expect good things from you this season.” He was almost encouraging. Almost.
Two hours later, my body was already wearing down. I could hear the baggie’s siren song from out here. I kept an eye on Jack as he took the plate, but deep down, I wanted him to fail. Images of him and Holly together wanted to torment me. Worse, I knew that he was the better guy for her.
He was solid. Dependable. A little cheesy, but didn’t women love that shit? He’d be the kind to bring flowers, watch chick movies, cuddle all night.
Is that what Holly wanted?
Crack!
The ball came off Jack’s bat fast, a grounder coming straight to me. I dove for it but came up empty. Shit. I gotta get my fucking mind in the game.
Refocusing, I chased down balls and got them to first with a speed and accuracy that was my bread and butter. Yeah, I could hit the shit out of a ball, but covering the space between second and third was my real strength, and nobody could do it better than me.
Another hour passed while we batted and fielded, getting ready for the game. Luke took over practice pitching for Calvin. Damn, the kid wasn’t looking too good.
Actually, he looked a little green, and I didn’t know if it was from nerves or from partying too hard. Probably both. After almost taking Marty’s head off, Luke seemed to find his rhythm. He looked over at me and sniffed. I nodded and jerked my chin to the dugout.
When he turned the mound over to the next pitcher, I grabbed my dick and signaled to coach that I needed a piss break. I jogged to the locker room and pulled the baggy from my locker along with another small bag of implements. I almost dropped everything when Gary asked, “You okay?”
I stuffed the bags in my glove. “Yeah. I’m great. Just have to take a shit.”
His brow furrowed, then he lifted a shoulder, and I headed back to the row of stalls. I locked the door and pulled out a small metal tray from the bag, then a straw and lined everything up on the back of the toilet.
I consumed a small line first, just enough to calm me down so I could line out two larger ones for extra endurance. The taste in the back of my throat from the drainage woke me up quickly. I pushed my thumb against each nostril, sniffing hard to clear any powder that may have clung on to the hairs inside my nose.
I stuffed everything in the baggy, flushed, and opened the door. And nearly ran into Calvin, who was standing there with his arms crossed over his chest.
“I was rooting for you, ya know?” His voice was hard, bitter.
“What do you mean?” I asked and wiped my nose with the back of my hand.
“You know exactly what I mean.”
I pushed past him and went to the sink to splash water on my face.
“Holly loves you, do you know that?”
I met his gaze in the mirror. “I told her not to. I was honest with her from the beginning, you know that.”
“Have you been honest about the drugs?”
I stiffened and slowly turned. “That’s none of your concern.”
“It is my concern, for two reasons. I want to win this season, and a coked up shortstop doesn’t figure into those plans. Second, I care for Holly, and she doesn’t need a coke head in her life. She wants to start a business, have a family someday, have a real life, and you can’t grow the fuck up.”
I looked past him, at some of the guys heading our way. There wasn’t time to tell him that I wanted Holly. That I wanted something different from the life I’d been living. That I wanted to win this game, and without a hit, I knew I’d fail my team. That I was scared.
I didn’t say any of it. I just stared at him with my patented I don’t give a shit expression.
His shoulders sagged just a little. “Yeah. You don’t care. Go do your shit. Know this, if Holly asks me anything about you, she’s getting the truth.”
He walked away, and I headed back to my locker to hide my stash. I went through some rehab and stretching, getting ready for the game.
And just before we hit the field, I took another hit.
Hell, I was already down.
How much lower could I go?
It was nearly game time, and when I was heading back to the field, the euphoric feeling I normally got from such large lines was missing. It felt cold and dark, and my soul empty. Coach slapped me on the back as I walked out into the dugout.
“Show ‘em we’re a force to be reckoned with, son.”
Son.
I don’t think my own father ever called me son, at least not in a loving way. No son of mine is gonna sit the bench… play for the minors… yadda yadda yadda. I walked out onto the field, listening to the screams of the fans who loved me, but the man who didn’t love me, his voice still canceled them all out.
The Yankees looked vicious as they walked out onto the field. Some of my favorite players were on the team, some of my not so favorites too. During my short stint playing for them, I made quite a few enemies, usually because I screwed someone’s wife, girlfriend, or sister. Hell, I might have got a mother in there too.
Nothing to be proud of, Ace. You’re gonna die alone.
The first batter up cracked Luke’s pitch past the fence. Damn kid, did you forget to do your line?
He looked shook up as the batter ran base to base to collect his home run with pride. I ran over to him. “You okay, kid?”
He looked pale. “I’m just all freaked out. It’s like they all know,” he whispered.
I laughed. “I’ve been there.”
It didn’t seem to soothe him.
“Okay. Here’s what I used to do to get through the game and play my best. Pretend you’re in a video game. Like actually inside it. Everything around you seems real, smells real, and even sounds real, but that’s only because it was created based on your world. You’re not really surrounded by people, just holograms.” I spoke slowly to help calm his nerves.
“Close your eyes.” I rubbed his shoulders as the batter took home. The next one was already up, beating his bat against the plate and kicking dust.
“When you open your eyes, you are in the game. I’m player two. The rest are computer players, that’s all.” I slapped him on the shoulder and ran back to my place on the field.
Poor kid. I remember being young and scared like that. Why in the hell did Coach start a newbie on a day like today?