chapter 12
“Dad!” I ran after him, my hand catching his elbow, his turn sudden, and I came to a stop, my breath hard. “We got Chase?”
“Yeah.”
“Who’d we lose?” The only negative of new blood, the sacrifice of our weakest lambs.
“Just Collende, and a Minor guy. Probably some draft picks and cash.”
“Damn. Anyone talk to him?” I wanted to be sad.
But we’d all known Collende would leave at some point.
I’d spent the last two days analyzing our roster and had already prepared for the emotional break.
Not that the loss was anything to cry over.
Collende was a prick. A prick with one hell of a bat, but a prick regardless.
“No. You gonna be able to handle this, Ty?”
“What?” I looked up into his face and tried to understand the question. “Collende leaving?”
“No. Stern.” He lowered his voice and put a hand on my shoulder. “I don’t want your hero worship of him to affect…”
I didn’t help the man out. I let him dangle in the Atlantic wind, one struggling father on a limb that was shaky at best.
He swallowed before continuing, “…to affect your judgment. He’s gonna go straight for you, Ty. I know he is.”
I didn’t know what to say, my father’s opinion biased, the likelihood of Chase Stern even noticing my existence was slim.
And that was fine. He was a baseball god.
My excitement was at having him on our field, his glove and bat our new asset.
“Dad. It’s Chase Stern.” He could change everything for us.
He could take us back to the World Series, put us on the record books.
One day his name would be mentioned in the same circles as Ruth and Gehrig, and we would have shared a field with him.
“He’s not gonna mess with me,” I protested. “Don’t worry about that.”
He pulled me to him, a rare hug between us. “Oh, Ty. So smart and still so dumb.”
I leaned into his arms and said nothing. He was wrong, a rarity for my father. But still, my blood hummed with excitement.