Chapter 9 #2
I open the door, and my attention falls on the two men sitting at the small desk.
Victor Dominguez is behind his desk. He’s a short guy with a bit of a belly, one he uses to rest his clipboard on.
He’s got kind eyes with permanent laugh lines and warm brown skin.
Next to him is a man I’m all too familiar with.
Short auburn hair, thin freckled face, and sharp hazel eyes.
Babs—my Double-A head coach from last year.
My insides hollow out. I somehow force myself to sit in the free chair in front of the desk even though I don’t really remember moving. I don’t feel anything at all, really. Did my heart stop beating?
“Michaels,” Dominguez says gently.
Oh shit. Shit, shit, shit.
My eyes meet Babs’s. An apology glints back at me. I clear my throat and meet the Triple-A coach’s gaze. “Sir,” I say roughly.
“We’ve been extremely impressed with your playing since you started with the Jetties’ franchise.
This Spring Training, you’ve continued to prove your worth to this organization and blown us away with your talent.
Noonan in particular was singing your praises.
Not often something you hear from a major league manager. ”
“Thank you,” I manage, even though my throat is trying to close up. I’m obviously allergic to something in this room. Mold? Probably mold. They should really get that checked.
“Unfortunately, not everything in this business is about talent,” Dominguez continues.
He leans back and rests his hands on his belly.
“Roster logistics don’t allow us to assign you to Triple-A this year.
Right now, the infield’s loaded, especially shortstop.
You’ve got the talent for it, no question, but there’s just no spot at the moment. ”
There it is. I had thought I was numb, but apparently not, because my heart just shriveled up and died. It hurts a fuck ton more than I was expecting. Disappointment. Not being good enough. Baseball is my one thing—and now I’m falling short even at that.
“Michaels.” Babs’s firm voice has my head snapping up.
“This is in no way a reflection on your talent or your importance to this organization. You know how quickly things move in this industry. You know how often players are moved up and down throughout the season. This is not a death sentence, as much as your face says otherwise. You’ll get your shot, kid.
Keep working and don’t lose sight of the endgame. ”
I swallow hard. “Of course. I’m honored to be playing for you again, Babs.”
He smiles. “Don’t feed me that bullshit, Michaels. It’s okay to be disappointed. This was one of the toughest calls we had to make this Spring Training.”
I think that was supposed to make me feel better, and maybe it should, but I still lost, you know? You were a top contender! But…not good enough to be chosen. Here’s your almost made it trophy. It’s what I expected. I don’t know why I got my hopes up. I was never going to beat out Jed Stone Jr.
“It might come sooner than you think,” Dominguez says.
I know he’s referring to Stone. It’s no secret they want him in the big leagues this year, just need to gain more confidence in his post-injury arm. Then I’m in.
I’m vaguely aware of smiling, thanking them for their time, and leaving the room.
I guess I just have to wait it out until Stone gets called up.
But then what? There’s still no room for me.
Jed could be playing into his late thirties or early forties.
I guess I should just accept the fact that I probably won’t be having a career with the Jetties.
Goodbye, Jetties.
Goodbye, Easton.
Goodbye, Paulie.
My throat closes over, and a fierce burn floods my eyes. My gaze catches on the storage room, and I practically dive inside and snap the door shut. My back hits it, and I crumple to the ground, burying my head in my knees.
Fuck.
I drive the heels of my palms into my eyes, like that small act could push back the wave of emotion about to crush me.
This is exactly why you don’t get attached.
I’ve just been told I’m an amazing ballplayer.
Even if there won’t be room for me here, another team will want me.
I’ll get my shot at The Show. That’s the dream, and it’s going to happen.
But the dream is dulled, because I want to be walking onto the field in that big league stadium with Nebs and Winters by my side.
Now, I won’t even be playing minor league ball with them. I’m heading to Portland, Maine, where the Double-A team is, while they head to Providence, Rhode Island with the Clippers.
A numb resignation seeps through me, and I stare unseeing at my hands. My bracelets waver in and out of focus. I spin the faded blue beaded one. Something in my chest softens. One thing that will always be a constant in my life is Mom.
I pull out my phone and shoot off a text to her with the news. My phone rings not even thirty seconds later.
“Hey, Mom.” I wince at the roughness of my voice.
“I’m so sorry, baby.”
I wrinkle my nose against the sting trying to build again. “It’s fine. Part of the game.”
“Doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt. You’re the best player on that team. And I’m not just saying that because I’m your mother.”
“You are definitely saying that because you’re my mother.”
“Well, yes. But when you play, it’s like art, Shaney. Sometimes you’re lucky enough to see greatness in the making, and I’m one of those lucky ones, because you are greatness, baby.”
“Thanks, Mom.”
“Can you manage to squeeze in dinner tonight?”
I’m local, and my mom’s house is about thirty minutes from our training center.
“Might be a little late. I have a scrimmage.”
“You know I’d do dinner at midnight if it means I get to see my boy.”
I chuckle. “Yeah.”
“Perfect. I better get going then. I have a macaroni salad to make.”
I perk up. My mom makes a fucking mean mac salad. “And those Revel Bars?”
“Ask and you shall receive.”
“You’re like my favorite mom ever.”
She snorts on the other side of the line. “All right, see you later, favorite son.”
“Love you, Mom.”
“Love you, baby.”
I pop to standing and wipe the drying tears from my cheeks. I blow out a breath and shake out my arms. It sucks, but it’s fine. Just have to keep playing hard. Eventually, I’ll end up where I’m supposed to be.
Easton and Paulie’s faces come rushing forward, and my stomach seizes again.
It’s funny. I’ve always been so nervous about getting close to someone just to have them realize I’m not worth their time. I finally found people who do think I’m worth it, and the world is taking them away from me.
What a fantastic joke.
I paste a smile on my face and slip out of the storage room. For now, though, my best friend just got his big moment, and he deserves to be celebrated. I refuse to take away from Easton’s good news. I can wallow later. With a big bowl of Mom’s mac salad.