Chapter 7 Mason - Open Water
MASON Open Water
Five a.m. gets earlier all the time,” my buddy Robbie said as he poured three cups of coffee from a large Yeti thermos and handed one to me and one to my brother Parker.
The diesel engines rumbled, as Parker, from the captain’s chair on the bridge, shifted them into gear. I loved watching the sunrise from the water. I loved seeing the horizon burst open with light, the sea suddenly in vivid color.
“Nah,” I said. “This is when five is great. You know when five sucks?”
Parker took a sip of his coffee and nodded. “Yup. When you’ve been out all night, and you’re just falling asleep as the birds start chirping.”
We all groaned. “That is the worst,” Robbie said.
Down below, in the salon of the 1993 Jarrett Bay that was our dad’s pride and joy, the ten boys who could come this morning were wrapped in blankets on the floor and the couches.
They slept as we made our forty-mile run out to sea.
When my mom painstakingly chose the striped Sunbrella cushions and white quartz countertops, I doubted that she had this in mind.
“It is the worst,” I agreed. “But this? This is the best. My best buddies, the open water, our old boat, my favorite players…”
Parker laughed. “You say that every year.”
I nodded. “Yeah. But this year I mean it.”
One of the best parts of being a coach was getting to know the players who I would spend the next months with—and their parents, which could be good or bad depending on what they were like.
If someone had told me what parents would do to try to get their kids a little extra playing time, I never would have believed it.
I had gotten Final Four tickets and fishing expeditions, free meals from restaurant owners, vacation offers, and some of these moms…
Well, let’s just say, I have received some amazing yet appalling photographs that I have deleted like the gentleman I am.
Even still, I tried to be fair because, in the end, we all wanted the same thing: a winning season.
But I won’t lie, I was only human, and, after those floor seats to the Duke–UNC game, I had probably let Michael Saunders play a little more than he deserved.
But, come on, we were going to beat Hillcrest High no matter what.
But largely, I tried to be the coach who gave these kids a little extra.
Which was why, right now, we were embarking on this fishing expedition.
I had learned that, yes, it was important for me to bond with the boys.
But what was most important was for them to bond with each other.
They were different ages and races, from different socioeconomic backgrounds and wildly different family situations.
But, on the field, they transformed into one cohesive unit.
They spoke the same language, sensed each other’s movements, could read each other’s minds.
Well, ideally. And that was what days like today were for.
Sport was so far beyond the fundamentals.
It was all about trust. It was all about knowing the guy on first has your back while you’re on the pitcher’s mound.
And these two guys right here beside me, helping me out at 5 a.m.? They’d had my back since the day they were born. Talk about speaking a language? Trusting the people beside you? Nothing would ever compare to these two.
“You think we’re going to win States this year?” Robbie asked.
“Wow,” I said. “Way to dive in. Just ruin my calm moment with all your questions.”
He held his cup up to me. “The two things I’m serious about are coffee and baseball. You know this.”
“I do.”
“Of course they’re going to win States,” Parker said. “Don’t be ridiculous.”
“Well, the Baseball Today podcast sure thinks so,” Robbie said, winking at me.
I groaned, but it didn’t quite take. First, the article in Inside Pitch. Then, Baseball Today, my go-to listen, had asked me to be a guest. I was flattered and thrilled, but I tried to play it cool.
“You’re really a media sensation again lately,” Parker said. “That must feel good.”
I rolled my eyes, but he wasn’t wrong. Apparently, that wasn’t enough for me to move up in the coaching world, though.
I hadn’t told my friend or my brother that I had even applied for those college jobs.
So I just said, “Well, since tomorrow night is our first game, maybe let’s get a few under our belt and reassess. ”
“Nah,” Parker said. “You could win with your seniors alone.” He smacked me on the back. “And the great Mason Thaysden is leading them into battle. There’s no way you can lose.”
I smiled. He was a good brother. We’d moved way, way on from the mess of the past now. That was probably the best part of my whole getting-my-life-together situation. I’d gotten my brother back.
Robbie sat down on the bench seat closest to us. “Man,” he said, looking out over the vast expanse of water, “we really won the lottery, didn’t we? We live in paradise.”
I felt uneasy. That was the thing: We did.
We lived in paradise. I lived in the most beautiful place in the world with a boat tied up at my dock and fish outside my door, and my two best friends nearby.
I loved my job and, by all accounts, I was happy.
Was it even right or fair to want something more?
“Do you guys ever think about, I don’t know… leaving?”
“Nope!” Parker jumped in. “I did leave. And Palm Beach was great and all and, sure, New York is New York, which is awesome. But Cape Carolina is the best place on earth.”
He leaned back just a little in the captain’s chair, looking so at ease at the helm of this boat he’d learned to drive when he was just a little kid. “Wait. Are you thinking about leaving?”
I shrugged. “Nah. Yes. I don’t know. You guys both went off and had another life, and—”
“And we sprinted back to Cape Carolina, begged, borrowed, and stole to get back here as quickly as possible,” Robbie said. “Believe me, man, the real world isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.”
“I think it’s just, like, no one takes me seriously here or something. And I’m not sure they ever will.”
Parker cocked his head to the side. “Mason, you are a legend. Everyone here worships you.”
Robbie added, “And, with all this press you’re getting lately, they’re not alone! You won the jackpot, man: doing what you love and getting notoriety for it in the place you love.”
I guessed that was true.
Parker pulled the throttles back and, just like that, without a word, Robbie and I knew: It was game time. See? Private language.
I climbed down the ladder and opened the door to the salon as Robbie began to set the spread of baits we had rigged on the way out. “Boys! It’s about that time! If y’all want tacos for dinner, we’d better get to it.”
A few of them groaned or opened one eye.
Luke, one of my freshmen, made a beeline for the cockpit.
I thought he was super excited—until he leaned over the stern of the boat and threw up.
Three other guys sat up to rib him, but then it was like a chain reaction.
Two of my seniors joined poor Luke over the stern.
I sighed and said, “Glad everyone took my Dramamine suggestion.”
I grabbed a few ginger ales from the fridge and a handful of meclizine even though, to be honest, it was probably too late now. This team bonding activity was going downhill fast.
But when Robbie yelled, “Fish on! I need an angler out here!” you’ve never seen teenagers jump up so fast. “Come on, Drew!” Robbie said. “Let’s see what you got, buddy.”
I helped Drew into the harness, thinking we had a blue marlin on.
All the boys were gathered in anticipation, and it’s amazing how, once the action begins, even the sickest of the seasick rally.
After a thirty-second fight, we all erupted in laughter as Drew pulled in a three-pound mahimahi, tiny by anyone’s standards.
“Nice peanut there, superstar!” Parker called from the bridge.
“We were looking for a few hundred more pounds, but at least I’ll have dinner! ”
I put my arm around Drew. “Well, it might not have been what we were chasing, but everyone looks way less green.”
We threw the fish back, Parker turned on the music, I pulled out the breakfast burritos, and everyone started eating, drinking, and laughing. It was exactly what I wanted. Or, well, no. It wasn’t the fish I wanted. But it was the funny story I needed.
Until an hour later. This time, when the long rigger bait ripped out of the clip, and line started pouring off the reel, we knew right away that this was something huge. “Luke, you’re up!” Drew called.
He looked terrified, but, as all the boys starting yelling, “Lu-uke! Lu-uke! Lu-uke!” he made his way into the fighting chair.
I clipped him and the reel into the harness as fast as I could as the line continued to peel off, and, I’ll be honest, I was a little worried about our skinniest freshman’s ability to reel in whatever was on the other end.
The fish dove down, and for the next thirty minutes, Luke fought for every single inch of line. “You need a sub, buddy?” I asked quietly, not wanting to embarrass him. “I can just act like I’m giving someone else a turn.”
He laughed, red-faced and out of breath. “Not a chance, Coach. This fish is mine.”
I slapped him on the back. “That’s my boy!
” The rest of the team began to cheer as the fish finally started to come up to the surface and Parker began backing up the boat—way too aggressively, I might add.
Water flooded the stern, and, what can I say?
The boys loved it. Luke was reeling, the fish was jumping, there was water everywhere, and it was chaos of the very best kind.
Robbie put on his gloves—like I’d seen him do about a million times before—and, as he finally got his hands on the leader, the part of the line that makes it qualify as a caught fish, phones were out all around me as a five-hundred-pounder jumped up by the boat.
Robbie was struggling to control the fish so he could release it.
The boys all jumped on Luke, rubbing his head, giving him high fives. Drew unhooked him, and Luke collapsed onto the wet teak as calls of “Freshman!” rang out all around him.
I looked out over the boat and said, “Thanks, bud,” as the fish swam away.
It jumped back out of the water, and, yeah, I knew it was in my head, but I swear it winked at me.
There was nothing, and I do mean nothing, that could compare to the thrill of catching a really, really big fish.
It was a classic moment of man versus nature.
Everyone had won. But especially me. Because this team, right here, I could already tell, was bonded for life.
Or at least a season. And that was good enough for me.