Chapter 33
We played a great game in the state quarterfinals; Zach, Gavin, and I combined for seven hits, six of them for extra bases. Gavin even hit another home run, his tenth of the year.
Everybody else had left the dugout; I stayed back to pick up the empty Gatorade bottles and bag of seeds from the ground and walked them to the garbage can. The stadium lights dimmed overhead, turning off one by one as the grounds crew finished dragging the field.
I didn’t want to forget this feeling. I didn’t want to forget this run we were on. Two more games, and we’d be able to accomplish what we hadn’t in my sophomore season.
Tanner approached me after I tossed another bottle into the garbage can. Standing next to him was a man I recognized but couldn’t place, although he carried himself like someone who belonged in baseball.
“Easton,” Tanner said, gesturing at me, “can you come over here?”
I speed-walked over, my metal cleats clanking off the pavement.
“This is Coach Anderson,” Tanner said. “He’s the head coach at Missouri.”
I wiped my palm on my baseball pants before reaching out. The calluses on his hands matched mine as we stiffly shook in the middle. “Nice to meet you, Coach.”
“You as well, Easton. Tanner stormed into my office last week and made me watch your tape and come to the game today.”
My face blushed hot as I glanced at Tanner, who seemed to find the empty field fascinating and wasn’t making eye contact.
“I’m glad you showed up.”
“So am I. You were impressive today. You pitched very well. How does the shoulder feel?”
“Best it’s felt in a year.”
“Tanner explained the issues. Said it’s the only reason you haven’t gotten a DI offer yet.”
“Well, Tanner tends to be right when it comes to baseball.”
“Certainly starting to seem like that,” Coach Anderson said, with a quick turn of the head toward Tanner. “I have half a thought to ask him to join my staff as an undergrad assistant next year.”
I grinned at Tanner, whose face had perked up at the words.
Coach Anderson turned back to me. “I bet we can get him on the staff if I can convince you to come play for the Tigers.”
My mouth dropped open, my mind running the fastest mile it ever had. Play Division I baseball? Was there still a real shot at that? I’d given up on the idea after getting accepted to Central Missouri.
“Thank you, Coach. I’d have to talk to my family, but I’m absolutely interested. I’m just not sure I’d be able to afford it.”
“Here’s the number of the person in charge of helping our athletes figure out the logistics,” he said, handing me a business card.
My hands trembled as I grabbed it, eyes locked on Coach, hearing every syllable he said. My mind, though, rocketed back a year, to ice dripping from my body and all the workouts with Nate, when I hadn’t even thought I’d play again, let alone get a Division I offer.
“A partial scholarship just opened; one player I thought would join our program is going pro instead. We’re late in the process, so I’m scrambling a bit, but it’s yours if you want it.”
“Wow. I’ll call her tomorrow. I truly appreciate this, Coach,” I said. What else could I possibly say?
He reached his hand out again, and we shook. “Good luck the rest of the tournament, Easton,” he said as he turned away.
“Hey, Coach,” I said before he left the dugout. “Tanner’s brother Gavin played well today, too, didn’t he? Maybe keep him on your radar.”
Coach Anderson turned and ran his hands through his hair. “I can’t talk to Gavin yet because of NCAA rules, and by the time I can, there’s a decent chance he won’t be thinking of what college to attend.”
He left after that, leaving Tanner and me in the dugout. I walked over and wrapped him in a hug, the first real one I’d given him in years.
So many times, I’d given up on myself. Wondered if baseball was finished with me. Tanner hadn’t.
“Dude,” I said as I broke away, finding a seat on the bench.
“Dude,” he replied, sitting next to me.
We sat in silence for a second; I knew we had to leave to get on the bus, but Tanner had likely given Coach Berrios a heads-up on what was happening.
“You didn’t have to do that for me.”
“Yeah. I did. Always will, too.”
My mind jumped sharply, processing the last thing Coach Anderson had said. “What did he mean about Gavin?” I asked, piecing it together, my mind tumbling over the realization of what his words meant.
“Maybe that he’s going to get drafted,” Tanner said, shock spreading across his face as well.
“Is that even possible?”
Tanner's head started to bob, processing the comment. “Think about it. He’s got the best of all of us. You’ve built his swing for years now. Zach hasn’t let him skip a day at the gym in a year.”
I added, “And he’s been watching your baseball mind work since he was five.”
“Whoa.”
“Yeah, whoa.”
Gavin in a major league uniform. It sounded ridiculous—until I pictured his swing. And heard the sound he’d made when he’d hit his home run today.
“I guess I never realized he’d gotten so good. It just kind of happened,” he said. “But wouldn’t that be cool? You playing at Missouri. Me coaching. Gavin getting drafted.”
“Feels like a dream.” I looked at the empty field, as I had so many times last year, wanting to pitch, to run, to hit, but instead having nothing more than a pencil and score book to play with. Now Missouri was calling.
Zach came into the dugout, telling us the bus was ready to go, breaking me away from a moment I never wanted to leave.
My mood didn’t falter all night. There had been times I’d thought I didn’t deserve this: the family, the baseball future, and the possibilities that came with it.
But when Coach Anderson had shaken my hand, it’d felt like the baseball gods saying, “You’ve earned this.
” And, looking back at everything I’d been through, I thought I had.
We still had business to take care of this season, though. The state title was still on the table.