“You had a full ride there. I got you that.”
“My skills got me that scholarship. You got a cushy job there by selling me out to them.”
“I never sold anyone out.” Bill’s round face reflected shock, a redness creeping up as anger burned to the surface. “I just ensured that you had support when you went there. It was all for you.”
A loud noise at the door had them both turning. Sam, the manager, and the first base coach stood there, astonishment written on their faces. Bill dropped his stranglehold on Jason’s shirt, smoothing it as he let go. Jason took a sharp step back, shaking off Bill’s help.
Sam cleared his throat. “Bill, some of the guys want to hit in the underground cage. Why don’t you give them a hand?” Before Jason could slip out, he held up his hand. “Friar, stay for a few minutes.”
The room cleared out. Jason fixed the fallen tapes and chair. Sam lowered himself into one of the chairs and gestured for him to take the other one. “It’s been awhile since I’ve been a hitting coach, but I might be able to help with McCarthy. Nasty pitcher. Let’s take a look at what you’ve got.”
Jason struggled to calm his heavy breathing, waited for Sam to say something about the confrontation. After a few seconds, he gestured to the screen. “It’s been awhile since I’ve gone against this guy. It doesn’t look like he’s changed too much except for this new arm angle on his slider, which is more like a cutter.”
Sam leaned forward and studied the tape himself. “Never noticed that. I’m new to this guy. Does he drop that arm every time?”
“No, only against lefties and only on out pitches. Tough angle to see the ball.”
“The break is late too. And always out of the zone.”
“Sneaky bastard.” Jason nodded, seeing the angle for himself. “Going to be tough for some of these young guys to lay off of it.”
“Yeah, great catch. I noticed a couple of things in your swing, if you want to run through it.”
He and Sam watched more tape of Jason and then pulled out the previous season’s tape and compared them. After a while they went to the cage and practiced. Finally, just before his arms were too tired, they ended.
“I think you got it.”
“Felt good. Now rest before tonight.” Satisfaction buoyed his spirits. Finally, it felt right. The swing, the team, the connection. He wasn’t the has-been, the outsider anymore. He felt…free.