USA Baseball had a room for interviews in the hotel. I found a man sitting there that I didn’t recognize.
“Jonathan Stoddard, Major League Baseball dot com,” he said as he shook my hand.
“David Dawson. This is Jeff Delahey and his film crew. You mind if they record this? They’re following me around, doing a documentary.”
“Yeah, I guess. I’ve never had someone film me like this,” Jonathan admitted.
“What can I do for you?” I asked.
“I’m down here to put together a story on potential prep draftees that are here for the COPABE Pan Am ‘AAA’ Championships. My idea is to do one story on the prospects from the US and then another on the international players.”
“Why do you want to talk to me? I plan on going to college and skipping the draft.”
“As the captain of Team USA, you have a lot of potential as a draft pick. Once we get closer to the draft, I’d like to do another story on just you regardless of whether you enter the draft,” Jonathan said.
“I’d love to,” I said with a smile.
Jeff almost blew my cover when he began to chuckle. He knew me too well. I talked to Jonathan for about twenty minutes. I did my best ‘aw, shucks’ shtick, and told him I was truly blessed.
When Jonathan left, Jeff shook his head.
“That never gets old. How you can say all that with a straight face is beyond me.”
“Hey, I see what you’re doing. You’re trying to get me to say something bad for your little docudrama. It won’t work, Buster,” I said, shaking my fist at him with mock indignation.
“All kidding aside, are you going to be ready for Cuba? They have a great team this year,” Jeff prodded.
“Last I looked, we play Panama first. I haven’t even looked at who else is on the schedule,” I said. Then I had a brilliant idea. “I think you’re selling the host country short. I heard they may be the favorites. The current international rankings are USA, Cuba, and then Mexico. Mexico might be a slight favorite because they’re the home team.”
“Do you know any of the Cuban players? I understand that you practiced with some of them,” Jeff said.
“If you know the answer, why are you asking the question?” I asked.
“Because I need to have you respond on tape.”
“Yes.”
“If you’re going to be like this, I’ll interview your mom. She said she has baby pictures,” Jeff threatened.
I decided I’d better play his game for now. I debated whether I should talk to Mom about it. That could go one of two ways: she could give Jeff grief, or she could turn on her youngest son. I figured it was a toss-up between turning on me and her giving us both a hard time.
◊◊◊
After we got settled, the coaches wanted us to loosen up and have a little fun playing baseball, so we strolled over to the practice field. Coach Kingwood left us to our own devices since he and the coaching staff had meetings to attend. First, they had to meet with USA Baseball, and then there was another meeting with the other coaches involved in the tournament.
When he and his staff arrived at the field, the players looked like a truck had run over them. I’d had Yuri run them through sixty minutes of hell.
“What happened?” Coach Kingwood asked me.
He was in time to see a few of them dry-heaving as they leaned against a fence.
“I won’t name names,” I said, pointing at the ones who’d started it, “but a few of them mouthed off that they were in great shape. Then someone questioned someone else’s manhood. It devolved into taunts, so I put an end to it. I am now Capitán Cojones, and these are my soldiers,” I said as I surveyed the devastation I’d triggered.
He looked at Coach Way.
“He thinks he’s Captain Balls.”
I chuckled because I’d played it off like I had no idea what ‘cojones’ meant. It was okay; I let the team think they’d put one over on me. I just figured you had to have real balls to pull off that nickname.
It appeared Coach Kingwood liked what I’d done with the team. He seemed to have plans to use our workout on his ball club back home. I told him that Cassidy would be here tomorrow, and she could tell him how to implement it.
After my teammates were done acting like big babies, I made them play football with me. My plan was to throw for the next few weeks so I was ready when we returned for the end of two-a-days back home. I didn’t want to give Coach Hope any excuse to be mad at us for not getting ready for the season.
◊◊◊
USA Baseball had a buffet prepared for us in the hotel. In the corner of the room, they’d set up an interview set where their in-house reporters could ask us various questions. The plan was to intersperse the interviews in-game during the broadcast when there was a lull in the action.
Logan, Tristan, and Allard pulled me aside.
“I asked around, and there’s a mall not far from here. We want to go after dinner and have you work your magic,” Tristan said.
“How many are going?” I asked.
“Everyone,” Allard said.
I was a little surprised when I could roll my eyes like a teenage girl.
“Come on, man, you promised,” Logan said, sounding worried.
“No, sorry. I just … ah … didn’t think you guys were seriously interested in fashion,” I admitted.
“Yuri and Roc showed us pictures of the girls you date and some of the models you’ve taken out. I mean, seriously, I would kill to go out with that Victoria’s Secret model,” Tristan said as their explanation.
Someday, if they made it to the major leagues, they very well might date a model. I mean, if that goof of a pitcher could be with Hanna Minacci, then they surely had a chance.
“Yeah, me too. I mean, I love my girlfriend, or I’d be right there with Tristan. But Molly says she wishes I dressed better sometimes,” Logan admitted.
I looked at Allard, daring him to throw M.E. under the bus. He just shrugged.
“Fine, but you have to figure out transportation. My security people told us we can’t walk anywhere after dark,” I explained.
“Coach Kingwood and the rest of the coaches are going with us, so we can use the bus,” Allard said with a big smile.
I’d been set up.
◊◊◊
I guess I should have known that Jeff and his camera crew would load onto the bus with us. It was only a few miles to the mall, and once we got there, our first stop was to get haircuts. They had five stylists available. One of them was free, so I asked if they had any books, and he got us a couple. It was much easier to show them what I thought would work.
I had shudders go down my spine when several wanted Blake Seaver’s latest hairstyle. Coach Way pulled me aside once I’d helped them all figure out what they wanted.
“How come you got a flattop and not just a buzz cut?” he asked.
“You know what’s funny? My granddad wore a flattop. I used to make fun of him, but he assured me that once I figured out how easy it was to take care of, I’d want one. I thought he was being old-fashioned. You know how some fashions seem to come back in style? Shorter hair is back now, but with a few twists. Most younger guys are wearing it short on the sides and then doing something creative on the top. Plus, I love that it takes me no time at all after a shower.
“For someone your age, a buzz cut would just seem like you’re avoiding a comb-over,” I teased.
“You must not be planning on ever playing,” he warned me.
“I think a flattop would suit you better than a buzz cut. People see those and instantly think you’re trying to hide the fact you’re going bald. The other problem is a lot of guys simply don’t have the head for a buzz cut. The flattop helps hide the goofy shape of their noggin,” I advised.
“So, I take it you’ve had a buzz cut?” Coach Way asked sardonically.
I dug out my phone and showed him a Stryker picture.
“I’m going to try the flattop,” he said after he saw my bald head.