Chapter 66
Rhys stood at the side of the field as Denny moved toward home plate.
They already had the catcher swagger down.
There was definitely more to being a catcher than the way you moved, but it was a place to start.
He glanced back at where Mel stood beyond the fencing with Sonia.
Neither of them wanted to be this close, but Mel still smiled at him.
Brady’s voice came from behind him. “It’s a good thing you’re doing.”
Rhys winced a little. Of course he’d forgotten something. He didn’t even know what happened to that card Turner had given him. “I totally forgot about meeting with that guy.”
Brady barked out a laugh. “I thought that might happen. His afternoon is free for a video call. It’s only a consultation, Rhys. You don’t even have to do anything about it.”
“Like he won’t tell you the team’s better off without me and my problems.”
He waited for Brady’s laugh, but it didn’t come. “Is that what you’re so afraid of? You can’t actually believe you’re the only baseball player whose brain might not work the way the vast majority of the population does. There’s a reason you’re so good at what you do.”
Rhys let out a huff. “My brain has never been deemed one of my positive traits before.”
“Well, maybe that’s everyone else’s problem, not yours,” Brady said, his voice sharper than Rhys expected it. “Come find me when you’re done here. I’ll get that video call set up for you.”
Rhys wanted to groan, but he nodded. Not that he wanted to know all the ways he was messed up. No matter what Brady said, he was sure it would be too much for the team, and they’d decide they’d rather cut their losses.
It was too late in the season to trade him, but it’s not like that was their only option. They might be just as likely to bench him for good if he didn’t talk to this guy. No matter how many times they said it was his choice. Rhys knew how these things went.
He tried to shove away those thoughts as he took in Denny’s stance. Crouched down, both knees up. Up on their toes. He shook his head as he moved over to them.
“Heels down,” he said. “It will give you more stability.”
“But, won’t that make it take longer to get up to throw?”
“Not if you stumble forward because you don’t have your balance.” He waited until they got back into position. “Turn your toes out, too. It will open your hips up more and allow you to get lower.”
As they did that, Rhys saw something he'd noticed when they were at the center but had brushed off at the moment. He’d apparently been too distracted by Mel's presence.
He signaled to Cameron then moved over to Denny. “You’re left-handed.”
Denny pushed the mask up with that left hand, and he swore he saw the attitude in that one movement and had to bite the inside of his cheek to stop from laughing. “Is that a problem?” they asked.
“There have been less than a dozen left-handed professional catchers. None since like the 80s. It just isn’t done.”
“Why not?”
Rhys opened his mouth then closed it. There were reasons, they might even be valid ones. In the face of this teenager who wanted to catch despite everything stacked against them, he couldn’t come up with a single one.
“You know, I don’t really know. Some plays might be harder to make, especially throwing to third, but with some adjustments, I don’t see why you couldn’t make it work. Let’s see what you’ve got.”
Rhys moved over to the side of the field as Cam started his wind-up. He very much did not look over at Alfie, though he was sure he could feel Alfie’s gaze right on him. Instead he watched Denny’s movements, and saw their frustration as a ball kept getting past them.
One more. He’d give it one more before he went and made some other suggestions. This time Denny caught it, and his face stretched with a grin as they jumped up and ran over to him, slapping their hand to his held up palm.
“Great job,” he told them. “Even some veteran players have trouble blocking those low balls.”
“I wouldn’t have figured it out without you.”
Rhys’s face warmed. He wasn’t anything special, and he couldn’t believe anyone, especially Mel, trusted him with Denny. He couldn’t even remember his own appointments.
Right now, he had to go talk to this shrink to see what a mess he really was. He headed over to where Mel stood, trying not to glance over to the dugout. To Alfie. Who didn’t want anything to do with Rhys.
He would have to be fine with that. He had Mel now. He didn’t want to do anything to mess that up. At least not any sooner than was inevitable.