“When do they think they’ll have the bugs worked out?”
“Five to six weeks.”
“What has you so excited?” I asked.
“The helmet you’re currently using is based on 1960s technology. It has a hard outer shell and then internal padding. It protects your skull from cracking, but really does nothing to protect the brain. What happens is your brain presses up against your skull on the initial hit, and then when your head snaps back, it bounces off the other side of your skull.
“There have been some advancements, like air padding where you can add or take out air so the helmet fits better. Another solution was to add padding to the exterior of the helmet to help absorb the impact. This company has taken those ideas a step further,” Tami said.
“Who are they?” I asked.
“Vicis, and the helmet is called Zero1,” she said and continued her explanation. “What makes the helmet safer is that it has four layers. The outside works like the bumper on your car. Instead of it bouncing off an object, it gives to absorb impact. The second layer is also designed to reduce impact force. It’s two layers of a rubber-like product that are sandwiched around what looks like rubber tubes. When this is hit, it’s designed to squish to disperse the force. The third layer is a hard plastic shell to prevent your skull from fracturing. The final layer is adjustable inner padding.
“I’ve seen their test results, and those show that less impact is felt. There haven’t been any definitive tests that show this will reduce brain injury. But I think that’s just because they haven’t put the product on the market widely enough, and it’s brand new. Common sense tells me it can only help,” Tami concluded.
“How do I get one?” I asked.
“I told them who you are, and they got excited. They agreed to sell you one as soon as they get the bugs worked out from the field test.”
“I better make sure the NCAA isn’t going to give me a hard time about it if they’re selling me one because of who I am,” I said.
“Caryn is already looking into that with your lawyers. Your dad put her on it,” Tami said.
I was glad to hear they were looking out for me.
“You’re the best. I can’t wait to get it and try it out.”
“You better not tell your mom that part,” Tami warned.
She did have good points more often than not. I would have to keep that our little secret.
◊◊◊ Tuesday August 9
I smiled when my guys hit the lobby in their new clothes. The three amigos all looked good. We all stood out, compared to the other ballplayers. It wasn’t that the others were dressed poorly; they just looked like regular teenage boys.
I wore the sport coat I’d gotten in Japan with the graphic on it. I also wore an Abercrombie light-blue button-up shirt under the jacket, and cream-colored slacks with my new oxblood-red leather tennis shoes. To finish it off, I wore my Japanese designer sunglasses. I’d been warned that the press had been asking about me in Mexico, so I decided to pull out my inner model.
“Did you guys let David get his hands on you?” Allard asked when he saw us.
“He said we have to look like someone a girl will want to date,” Phil said.
“Uh … okay,” was Allard’s witty comeback.
Other players noticed and soon had the three amigos cornered, asking them questions. Allard, Daz, and Austin pulled me aside.
“How come you didn’t invite us for a makeover?” Daz asked.
I think Austin realized how that sounded, and he scowled for a moment, but then nodded.
“I wouldn’t want to look like I was in a boy band,” Allard worried.
That made me laugh. I had deliberately not gone too far with Phil, Roc, and Yuri; instead, I’d just tried to make them more presentable. I’d remembered how worried I’d been when my freshman-year ‘sex tutor,’ Cindy, had changed my appearance. Even worse was when Ford Models had let their ‘artist’ loose on me. I’d had to remind the agency that if I wore makeup at school, I would get my butt kicked. I knew exactly what these three were worried about. It had taken all this time for me to be sufficiently comfortable to wear the clothes I currently had on in public.
“Do you think they look like that?” I prodded.
“No, but I know you well enough that I could see you making me look goofy just for the fun of it,” Allard admitted.
The other two watched at me suspiciously.
“He has a point,” Daz said.
“What you’re all looking for is a cleaned-up version of yourself that attracts women and makes you appear a little older,” I guessed.
“That would be perfect,” Austin said.
“You also know I live in Arkansas. I can’t be citified,” Allard said with concern.
“So, no eyeliner,” I said with a straight face.
“What? You have eyeliner on?” Daz asked. I looked over, and his eyebrows had disappeared into his bangs.
“Doesn’t it make my eyes pop?” I teased.
“This was a mistake,” Austin said, backing up.
“I’m only teasing. You’re my teammates. Do you really think I would make you look foolish?”
Okay, that was probably the wrong question, but they finally calmed down. I told them to ask around and see who else wanted some help. I made it clear that it might cost them some money because a good haircut wasn’t cheap. It looked like most of them went to Cheap Cuts and got their Wednesday special when the barber school came in for practice.
◊◊◊
Once everyone was downstairs, it was off to Mexico. When we got off the plane, I was happy to see Fritz and Paul in the airport debarkation area. They’d gone down a day early to prepare for everyone else’s arrival. I was glad they were there when we cleared customs and got to the section of the airport where the press could get in.
I was standing next to Coach Kingwood when we saw the paparazzi waiting.
“Let me go first and draw them off. I’ll talk to them until you text me that you have everyone on the bus, and then we’ll join you,” I planned.
I quickly found my security team around me. Poor Chuck looked a little green; he’d never experienced anything like this before. I’d dealt with it in LA, and it was simply crazy in Japan. I soon found out that Mexico loved baseball. Of course, I was American, which made them want to hate me. But I was also in movies. I found that the two conflicting feelings sort of canceled each other out. I think I won some of them over when I could do my interviews in broken Spanish.
The airport police showed up and made us move out through the exit. That was a mistake because there was a large crowd of fans waiting outside.
“What should we do?” I asked Fritz.
We could see the team’s bus was at the far side of the pickup lane, and my teammates were getting on.
“I think it would be safer to just push through and get you on the bus,” Fritz decided.
I was happy when the police helped us navigate through the crowd so I could escape. When I was finally on board, I looked toward the back of the bus and was met with stunned silence.
“That was special,” I announced.
Phil had saved me a seat.
“That totally sucked,” he observed.
“It’s all part of it. This was a little out of control, and you never really get used to it, but it’s the price you have to pay,” I explained.
◊◊◊
Thankfully, there were no crowds at the hotel. I did see Jeff, my favorite reporter, with his camera crew. I had Paul take my bags up to my room so I could talk to Jeff.
“You missed the circus at the airport.”
“No, we caught it. We just decided to stand back and film the craziness. Do you have time for an interview?”
“Sure. I need to get used to you following me around.”
“When you say it that way, it sounds a little creepy,” Jeff said with hooded eyes that made me wonder about him.