Chapter 7
Chapter Seven
GRANT
This is my favorite time of day. Everything is quiet. The sun is still rising over the mountains in the distance as I head toward the baseball diamond.
It’s my first official day with the Loggers and I can’t fucking wait.
With their old coach getting picked up by a major league team, I got a call from the owner.
I met him when we were in town two months ago, and he must have liked me enough to call me for an interview.
I’d been coaching our local college team for a few years, but this will be a step up for me.
It’s never easy losing a manager in the middle of a season, but the former guy was incredible. It doesn’t surprise me he got the call.
I’m the only one here when I pull into the empty parking lot.
Grabbing my laptop bag from the front seat, I walk inside to the offices. It’s nothing fancy—just a few desks crowded into the room.
Finding mine, I drop everything down and get to work. I’ve been studying film on all of our guys. I didn’t want to come in on my first day and be behind. I wanted to show everyone they made the right choice with hiring me.
“I’m not surprised to see you here.”
I spin in my chair and see what I assume is one of my assistants.
“What can I say?” I smile at him. “Wanted to be prepared.”
He smiles back at me, extending his hand. “Aidan Gavney. I’m the hitting coach.”
I take his hand. “Nice to meet you.”
He looks to be about my age, with two sleeves of tattoos coloring his arms and a hat covering his head.
“I’m excited to see what you’re going to do here.”
I throw my hands up. “I don’t want to step on any toes here. You’ve got a good system and I want to be able to help these guys keep improving on their game.”
“I like it. I think you’ll be a great fit here.”
“Tell me about the team,” I say.
Aidan nods at my computer. “It looks like you’re doing some studying of your own.”
“You can only glean so much from film. I want to know their personalities. Any problem players?”
He shakes his head. “No. We have a good group of guys here. A few are cockier than others, but nothing that sticks out as a problem.”
“So the usual with baseball players then.” I laugh. “Good to know.”
“They have the skill to back it up, but nothing that boils over into fights or anything like that.”
“Good.” I nod. “I’ve had to deal with that at times, but that’s mainly kids fighting over stupid things.”
“You used to coach college?” he asks, sipping on a to-go cup of coffee.
“I did. Also coached my son’s team, too.”
“Nice. Is he still playing?”
I blow out a breath. “I wish. It was too late when we moved to sign him up, and he wasn’t all that interested in keeping it going.”
“Ahh. So something he was doing because you were interested in him doing it.”
“Got it in one.”
“Is the new coach here?” a voice calls out from the doorway.
“That’s me.” I stand, greeting the newcomer. “Grant Prescott.”
“Brian Simmons. Nice to meet you.”
“You too.”
Voices filter into the office. Glancing at my watch, I realize a good chunk of the morning has gone by in the blink of an eye. No doubt the guys are here in the locker room getting ready for practice.
“Shall we get started?” I ask them.
“Let’s do it,” Brian says, smiling at me.
Grabbing my hat from my desk and my tablet, I follow the other coaches into the locker room.
Clanging from the metal lockers reverberates as a few of the players shoot the shit with each other.
I stand at the front of the room, taking them all in.
Most of them are in their late teens or early twenties.
It makes me feel downright ancient some days.
I only hope I can keep up with these kids.
“Can I get everyone’s attention?” I call out. I don’t raise my voice, but the few guys in the front take notice, and eventually, the room quiets.
“I’m Coach Prescott. Just moved here from coaching in LA, and I’m looking forward to working with you all. From everything I’ve learned about the Loggers, I can tell we’ve got a great group of guys here.”
“Hell yeah!” someone calls out from the back.
“You’ve had some great success here, and I want to keep building on that. Fundamentals are important, but I also want us to enjoy our wins. Let’s get out there. I’m ready to see what this team can do.”
A few of guys nod at me as they pass while others clap me on the shoulder.
I recognize most of them from studying, but it’s going to take a while before we’re comfortable with one another.
I know what a good coach can do. They can elevate the people around them, or if they’re in a bad way, bring the entire team down.
I hope we can all keep each other going here.
By the time I’m outside, the sun is high in the sky and Gavney is having the guys run laps around the field.
Nothing like a little cardio to get the day started. The grass is in pristine condition. The clay beneath my cleats is begging to be torn up with a good, hard practice.
Being out here makes it easy to not question my decision of uprooting our lives and moving to Pinecrest. This is where I belong.
Blowing the whistle hanging around my neck, I call everyone to the pitcher’s mound.
“We’re going to split into positions, but we’re going to work on some bobble and recover drills. I’ve been reviewing the film and that seems to be a weakness.”
“Really, Coach?” someone calls from the back. “Isn’t that a bit basic?”
I smirk when a couple of the other guys scold him. “When it becomes second nature during games, maybe we can reconsider doing it, but until then, I say we’re doing it.”
The guys break up into their positions and start working with the coaches. Gavney is still by my side.
“Pretty ballsy to call you out like that,” he says.
“They’re still getting the lay of the land with me. Nothing basic about cleaning up our game.”
“Damn right.” He elbows me in the side. “I’m going to like having you around.”
“Good, because I like it here.”
The rest of practice goes by in the blink of an eye.
It’s easy to see how much everyone likes one another.
I think it’s going to make things easier in the long run.
Coming into situations where a manager is fired because they aren’t doing well is one thing, but when they’re winning, it makes it an easier change to slide into.
As everyone leaves, I head back into the office to make some notes on practice and what we can continue working on. My phone buzzes across the desk. Picking it up, I see it’s from Luke.
Luke
What’s for dinner?
Fridge is empty
Grant
I’m going to the store after practice
Any requests?
Can we grill out? Maybe brats?
Sure thing
Baseball is easy. I won’t have to worry about much here. Luke is who I’m going to worry about it, and that will never go away. But right now, the move here and changing schools isn’t going to be easy for him. If cooking some brats on the grill will help him, I’ll do it every damn night.
Because he doesn’t need any more changes. Not if I can help it.