“Well, if I do that I may not have any eggs left. Doesn’t that defeat the purpose?” I look at her questioningly, willing her to hit me with a witty comeback.
“When you stand at the plate, what are you doing?”
I scratch my head, pondering her question. “Batting?” I say with hesitation.
“Taking a risk,” she says. “You don’t know if you’re going to walk, get a hit, foul out, or get hit by a pitch, but you stand there, repeatedly, over and over again. Sometimes the risks are worth it.”
Mom stands and starts cleaning off the table. When she reaches for my plate I put my hand down on her wrist and shake my head no. I’m not done eating. I refuse to let her risk her life by stealing my food.
“In coming,” I yell, giving the guys ample time to cover up before I bring Shea into the club house. This isn’t a surprise visit by any means, but I do need to warn them to make sure their potty mouths are zipped up tight because she’s three and repeats everything.
Shea is on my shoulders when I walk in, having to duck under the doorway so she doesn’t hit her head. All the guys love her and reach up to give her a high-five once we’re inside. She is, of course, decked out in full BoRe fashion even though she’s being bred as a Mariner fan. Her legs move back and forth the more attention she gets and as soon as I put her down, she’s running in a full sprint around the room. Club houses are big kid playgrounds for the most part, but even the littlest of kids can have fun in here.
When Shea runs by Branch Singleton, he scoops her up in his arms and spins her around while making airplane noises. Singleton has a son, but he never gets to see him. I don’t know all the specifics, but the baby mama drama was too much, and he doesn’t like to talk about it. I do know he pays a shit ton in child support and that his son lives in Phoenix where the mother moved after the baby was born.
I let the guys entertain Shea, although it’s likely the other way around with the way she has them all wrapped around her finger, while I get ready. For being three, she’s outgoing and loves attention. Shana and my parents ensure that she experiences a lot of different social situations in order to teach her about stranger danger.
Once I’m dressed and ready, I hold Shea’s hand as we walk down the corridor leading to the field. She wears cleats, like me, only hers have plastic spikes and her tiny baseball glove is tucked under her arm. Mine is already in the dugout, waiting for me.
My dad is waiting for us at the top of the dugout since he’ll be keeping a close eye on Shea during warm-ups. He and Cal Diamond, our manager, are in an in-depth conversation, but he makes eye contact with me briefly as Shea and I climb the steps and step out onto the field.
“I’ll take her with me, if you want to hit,” Kidd says, as he stands near us.
“Me too,” Bainbridge says. With both of them being in the outfield, she has less of a chance to get hurt.
“Do you want to go with Steve and Travis to the outfield?” I ask her, pointing toward the outfield. She clutches my hand a bit tighter and tries to mold herself to my leg. I imagine being three and looking around the baseball field. This place is enormous for an adult, so the size must be overwhelming to a toddler. It takes under a minute until she decides that yes, she does in fact want to be out there.
In a picture perfect moment, my niece is walking hand-in-hand with my best friend and mentor, and the people that are here early are eating up every minute of it.
“Hey, Stud.”
The sound of Sarah’s voice comes from behind me. The nickname she gave me in high school, sticking even today. When I turn to see her, my world shifts on its axis. I don’t know what I was expecting, maybe a white coat with her dark brown hair in a bun for starters. Instead, I’m graced with the woman I was once madly in love with wearing a version of a BoRe t-shirt that I’ve never seen before, showing off her curves and ample cleavage. She beckons me with her finger and, as if it had me on a string, I’m walking toward her.
“Hey, Doc,” I say, taking her all in. “Although, I have to say, you don’t look much like a doctor to me right about now.”
When Sarah smiles, her light brown eyes light up. She’s beautiful, always has been. And I’d be a fool to ever tell her no.
“We can play doctor later,” she whispers into my ear, sending a jolt right to my cock.
“I look forward to it.” I back away slowly, trying to undress her with my eyes. I know what’s waiting for me. Hell, I watched her transform from a girl to woman while I caressed every inch of her body. That’s a definite benefit from being her boyfriend for so long.
I wink before turning away and adjust myself. As soon as my hand touches my cup, I count one in my head. I’ll be sure to tweet the BoRe Blogger how many times an adjustment was made tonight so his statistical count isn’t skewed.
Nothing makes me happier than a win. Actually that may not be completely true because the idea of getting laid has me pretty damn ecstatic right now. The win makes our manager happy, and the fact that it was a close victory, with a late two-run shot by Branch, puts a shit-eating grin on his face. With back-to-back road wins, it’s a boost in the standings.
My routine is different this time around. I’m not going to linger in the clubhouse nor am I going to shower. The sooner I arrive at Sarah’s, the sooner this pent up frustration will be released. She made the game almost unbearable today with her shy finger waves, blowing kisses and yelling crude comments about my ass when I was in the on-deck circle. Even though she was sitting next to my parents, she didn’t hold back. My sister encourages Sarah’s behavior and even though Shana is happily married she has no qualms about cat-calling my teammates who, in turn, give her what she calls the “sexy eyes”.
It’s no secret that we all have slump busters or cleat chasers in the towns we visit. I’ve hooked up with random women in different cities, but Sarah is my only consistent one. My parents know about our arrangement, and while they may not approve, they at least know her and consider her a part of our family.
As soon as Diamond is done congratulating us on the win, I’m taking off my uniform and throwing it into the laundry hamper. My cleats, glove and everything else I need stays in my assigned locker until I need it again tomorrow. I put my game day attire on: Dress shirt and slacks and tell the guys I’ll see them later. Kidd shows me how much fun I’m about to have when he puts his fist to his mouth and juts his tongue into his cheek.
“Be jealous,” I say as I grab my dick and give it a good shake.
“Be sure to wrap your junk so your pecker juices don’t sneak out.”
I flip him off as I walk out of the clubhouse, laughing. At the end of the corridor the parade of women starts. Most of them filter around, but a few are brazen enough to flat out ask you to come hang with them. At first, it’s an ego booster when they choose you... until you remember they just want to say they fucked a major league baseball player and take a selfie as proof. I won’t have to worry about that tonight. Sarah doesn’t care about what I do for a profession, she wants my dick and I’m going to give it to her.
The car I had in high school and college waits for me in the parking garage, along with my overnight bag. The smell of home surrounds me as I navigate my way to Sarah’s apartment. It’s close to the hospital so she can walk to work and not far from Safeco Field. There were many times that Sarah and I opted for the cramped quarters of the car even when we had a bed at our disposal. It wasn’t just the thrill of possibly getting caught, but also how close we had to be, and how creative we had to get in order to make things work.