32. Chapter 29
Jax
Sloan just sent me a text with a video in it, and as much as I want to sit down and watch whatever she captured, I have to talk to Horner.
The stress of this draft is taking a toll on me, and I can’t think straight.
I sent him a text this morning asking him if we could meet, and of course he scheduled it for the same day.
Am I a fan favorite? Yes.
Will Anderson be a fan favorite? Absolutely.
There are a lot of parallels between us, and I think that’s what has me so uneasy.
I take a deep breath before I knock on Horner’s door. When he calls for me to come in, I pause for a moment with my hand on the knob, second guessing myself.
“I thought you’d take a few weeks off before coming back here. With Ozzie moving, I know this locker room reno is going to take up a lot of your time,” he says, wrapping up whatever he’s doing on his computer.
“Yeah. I can’t relax,” I say honestly.
This causes him to look at me. “What’s up?” he asks with concern in his eyes.
“Ok. I’m not going to beat around the bush.” I sigh. “What are your plans with the roster next year?”
He looks puzzled.
“Where do you see me next season?”
He sits up straighter. “Playing Mango Ball. Pitching. Giving fans the best show of their lives.” His words are honest and genuine, but also cause me pause.
“Here in Mango Bay?” I ask.
“Is that where you want to be?”
I don’t like this question. He can tell.
“Jax, listen. I know Ozzie leaving is causing some unrest with you, and I know the draft is uncertain, but the fans are excited, and that’s who we do this for.
This is their game.” He scratches his head.
“I believe they will make the right calls. They love this game as much as I do. Trust them, ok?”
“Yeah,” I say, but I’m lying to both of us.
“I can’t make you any promises. I have my own predictions of what will happen based on things I see, and if I’m right, you have nothing to worry about. But no matter what happens, you are the face of Mango Ball. Always will be.”
He’s trying to reassure me and it’s not working. If it were up to him, I’d be here forever. I already know that. But it’s not up to him. Not entirely, so I’m no better off than I thought.
“Do you think Anderson will impact the fan portion of the draft?”
The question comes out faster than I can logically piece the words together. He smiles at me, seeing where I’m at right now.
“No. These fans are loyal. He’s a great addition, but he’s not a replacement, Jax. He has a place in Mango Ball, and right now that’s here in the Moonshots. But that could also change. But as far as I’m concerned, no matter where you end up, you are the starting pitcher. End of story.”
“Thanks,” I say.
“For what?” He laughs. “Giving you no answers and not easing any of your anxiety around the draft?”
This makes us both laugh.
“Stop thinking about it. You can’t control it, and enjoy your next few weeks off before I put you to work around here,” he says in a fading laugh.
“Thanks for talking to me,” I offer him a tip of my hat as I leave. I’m still uneasy, but I feel better after hearing his stance straight from him.
As I walk through the locker room, I see a picture of fans on the field the day Mango Nation opened. It sparks an idea that hits me and has me turning back around. “Hey Horner.”
“Yeah?” he says, back to his usual perky voice.
“I have an idea to really help fans feel like a part of the game.”
“Yeah?” he asks, sitting up a little taller in his chair. He lives for new ideas.
“What if we capitalize on the 7th inning stretch. I saw the picture of the fans at the first game, and just thought of it, so there are a lot of logistics that we would have to iron out.”
“Shoot,” he says, grabbing a paper and pen.
“Ok, picture this. When fans come into the park they all get a Mango Mystery Box. Inside the box is a sticker. Most of them are Moonshot’s #1 fan stickers, and 18 stickers are players from both teams. The 18 fans who open a player sticker get to join that player on the field for a fan focused Mango Ball inning.
10 minutes on the clock. Each team gets 5 in the field and 5 to bat.
The player you join is your assistant. The first team to score gets a small prize of some sort. ”
His pen is moving like crazy, and then he looks at me.
“It needs a song. Something consistent that encompasses the moment. It could play every game,” he adds.
We both think for a minute while we make a rough outline of other details.
“We could give the winning team a free t-shirt,” he says.
“‘Best Day of My Life’, by American Authors,” I suggest.
“I love that song,” he says with a smile.
“I know. You play it in your office before every game. I thought fans would love that antidote.”
“I really like this idea, maybe Sloan could cover the first one.”
This suggestion brings me back to reality and shifts my focus to her. I look at the clock on my phone and see a missed call from her.
“That’s a great idea.” I put my phone back in my pocket. “I actually have to head out, but you should ask her. I bet she’d love the idea.”
I don’t wait for him to respond. I need to get outside where I can call her back.
I just hope she’s not crying again.