Chapter Fifteen
The next fewgames after the radio incident were quiet. The guys avoided him, for the most part, shooting daggers at him with their eyes. At least they were trying to right the ship on the field. Going on the road and being forced into close quarters was a tinderbox waiting to explode. Bill Monroe continued to work with the players, spending more time being their friend than doing any real coaching. He made a few overtures to Jason, but Jason just walked away. He was just as isolated as before the radio incident, with no real plan of how to inspire these kids and get them to see him as a leader. Leading on the field hadn’t worked and he’d broken a perfectly fine radio all to no avail, although he enjoyed the silence.
Now, on the road, the radio was back and things were slowly returning to what passed for normal with this team. Radio blaring. Partying every night, if a bit more subdued when they lost. Things between him and the other players were unsettled, churning like the ocean after a hurricane. He wasn’t their buddy but a few of them had started to ask his opinion and advice. Hardly the mentor Hammonds had wanted him to be. How the hell was he supposed to mentor these kids? What did a mentor do?
Jason absently swirled the beer in the tall thin glass, the light glinting off the amber liquid sloshing dangerously close to the rim. In the background, the recap of the game onSports Centerdroned on and the commentators regaled the audience with I-told-you-so’s about the demise of his career and how aging stars should retire gracefully.
What the hell did they expect? A home run a night? Batting a thousand?
Whatever.
The bartender slid a hamburger under his arms. Jason swallowed the remaining beer and nodded for another. The lighting was dim and the bar almost empty. Perfect for his morose mood. He bit into the burger, enjoying the solitude. Idly he wondered what Stacia was doing that night. He missed her. After spending most of the past few weeks trying to get rid of her, now he wished she were here, not for the sex, although that was pretty fucking awesome, but for conversation. She was right. He was lonely. Surrounded by twenty-five guys and he was lonely. How pathetic was that?
She was working so hard to make him a success, position him for next year. Obviously that wasn’t working. He didn’t have the heart to tell her he had almost given up on that plan. Unless this team pulled their act together, he was going down in flames.
A small voice inside murmured that maybe it was a good thing. Maybe he could stay in Savannah, with Stacia. See where that led. He was a part of something now, and not on the field. He shook his head. He was a job to her, a job with benefits. But it would be nice to see if there really was something there. Something permanent.
A few bites later, a disruption at the bar’s entrance caught his attention. A few of the younger players on the team stumbled in, talking in loud voices, being obnoxious, well on their way to true intoxication.
Cody Patterson had not yet forgiven Jason for the radio and showing him up in front of the guys. He sauntered to the bar next to Jason and called, “Hey, bartender? Couple of pitchers of Bud and some wings, okay?”
The bartender acknowledged it and began pouring the pitchers. Cody, satisfied he’d completed his task, turned his attention to Jason. “Quiet night, old man? Can’t party like you used to?”
Old man? When was thirty-four old? Maybe to twenty-somethings. Jason slowly swiveled on the stool and arched an eyebrow at the young man. “We just lost our fifth game in a row, ten losses in twelve games. I’m not much in a partying mood.”
Cody clapped him on the shoulder. “It’s no big deal, old man. We’ll come back. We always do. I’m pitching tomorrow. We’ll kick their ass.”
“Like last year, when your team was in the cellar?” Jason arched an eyebrow. “No, when we lose on the field, it’s stupid to go out and party.”
He leaned forward, warming to his topic. “Tomorrow night, we have a nationally televised game against one of the toughest hitters in baseball, Hernandez. You may not have any respect for him but I do. I’ve faced him and he’ll kick your ass back to the dugout in record time. Good morning, good afternoon, and good night. Even a hotshot like you won’t have a chance unless you’re rested and focused.”
Cody straightened, his face turning a deep red. “Hey, I care about the team as much as you do, maybe more since I’ve actually been here playing for the whole season and you just got here.”
Jason looked at the rest of the group and the girls flirting with them, and then back at Cody. Stupid jackasses. “I can see that.”
“Yeah, like you were a monk.” Cody snorted. “I’ve heard stories about you. Girl in every city, partying all night.”
“I wasn’t in a slump and my team was winning. Besides, rumors can be exaggerated.” He sighed, embarrassed by his own past. “It was stupid. I was stupid to act like that.”
“Whatever, man. I’ll take care of it tomorrow.”
“Hungover? Man, pitching without sleep is pretty fucking stupid but to be drinking? I get that you want to blow off steam but you’re just pissing away your shot.” Jason shook his head. “I wasn’t a saint, but you’ve got talent. Don’t repeat my past; learn from it.”
Cody laughed. “The way I see it, you partied your way through the majors and were at the top of your game. Age killed you. Besides, I need to protect my hands. You’re there to catch the balls. Not my fault if you can’t field. Even the commentators agree with me.”
Jason shrugged and went back to his burger. “Whatever you want to believe.”
Cody stood there for a moment, staring at Jason for a few long moments. “You don’t think I can handle Hernandez tomorrow night?”
“Few can.”
“Please. I’m leading all rookie pitchers this season in ERA. I can handle it.”
For the first time, Jason heard a hint of doubt creeping into Cody’s voice. He knew things were shaky and didn’t have the experience to pull himself out of the tailspin. He also heard something else. Hope. A plea for help, even if he couldn’t voice it. Jason smiled. He’d been there. He could help.
“You couldn’t handle Percival last week. His bat speed’s slower than Hernandez’s. Make one mistake and he’ll take you out of the park.”
“He’s one guy.” Cody shrugged, false bravado back. “I can handle the rest of the lineup So, I’ll watch some tape tomorrow. I’ll be fine.”