Big League Dreams Ch. 03

The next afternoon, I showed up at the address that I had been given. It was what looked like a single family row house, not dilapidated by any means, but a little worse for wear. I noticed that the building had ramps leading up to the front door. Erin had told me that her grandparents had bought it, and her parents also lived there when she was little. I was nervous, in part because I sensed that Erin was nervous, because I knew that Liam would be busting my chops, and because I was not only meeting Erin's grandmother, but also Sean. Everyone warned me about Sean.

I rang the bell, and nervously shifted from leg to leg as I waited, wearing my best casual clothes, and carrying two bouquets of flowers. Footsteps approached, and I was happy to see that it was Erin who was letting me in, giving me a few seconds with her before having to meet her family. I realized that I hadn't met the parents of a woman that I was seeing since Liz in college, if you didn't count meeting Jillian's parents right before we drove north together, and I didn't. I kissed her briefly on the lips before handing her one of the bouquets.

"Thanks, Ray. They're beautiful. Is the other one for Grandma?"

"Actually, Sean."

After a brief pause, she laughed loudly. "Better give them to Grandma. Sean's more of a chocolates and scented candle kind of guy," she replied, smiling.

We had entered into a vestibule, with a flight of stairs leading upstairs. Erin led me past the stairs towards the back of the house, where something smelled good.

"Smells like Italian food," I ventured.

"Yep. Grandma's famous lasagna." I must have looked surprised. "Ray, just because we're Irish doesn't mean we eat corned beef and cabbage and potatoes every day." I nodded, and she continued. "Although Grandma does make a mean corned beef and cabbage."

We turned off the hallway into the kitchen. Sitting at the table was Liam, who made the room look tiny, and an overweight gray haired woman, sitting in a wheelchair attached to an oxygen tank, which, I assumed, explained the ramps. I could see through the next room, where the table was set for lunch. Liam jumped to his feet, somehow made his way around the kitchen table, and reached out to pump my hand.

"Good to see you, Ray."

"You, too, Liam."

"Grandma, this is my friend Ray," Erin said.

She reached out her arm, and I took her hand and shook it. "Nice to meet you, ma'am. These are for you." I handed her the flowers.

"They're beautiful, Ray. Thanks." She handed them to Erin, who had already pulled two vases down from a cabinet.

"Everything smells so good. I rarely get a home cooked meal during the season."

Erin's grandmother smiled. "That's right. Erin told me you're a ballplayer. My Frank used to love to go to games, but I haven't been in a long time. Anyway, Ray, you aren't leaving here without some leftovers."

"That would be great, ma'am. And if you want to come to a game, I can get you tickets whenever you want."

She smiled, but I noticed out of the corner of my eyes both Liam and Erin subtly shaking their heads.

"Thanks, Ray. Let me discuss that with my kids here, and we'll let you know."

There was an awkward pause in the conversation, as Erin busied herself getting drinks, a beer for Liam, and cold water for the rest of us. She already knew that I didn't like to drink before a game. A timer went off, and Erin said, "Liam, take Ray into the dining room, and call Sean."

Liam obediently rose from the table and I followed in his wake into the dining room. He pointed to a seat and said, "That's for you, Ray. Next to Erin."

I sat where I was told, and waited, alone, as Liam walked into the hallway and turned toward the back of the house, yelling, "Sean, get your fucking ass out here now. It's lunch time."

Liam returned and sat across from me, and I noticed that there were two places set with no chairs. As I pondered the meaning of that, I heard the sound of wheels on floor, and a huge man in a wheelchair rolled into the room, pulling up to the table and stopping. He was, possibly, bigger than Liam, but with long, dark hair, and tattoos covering almost all of his huge, muscular arms. He wore gloves on both hands, and stared at me as if I had killed his dog.

"Sean, this is Ray, E's friend," Liam said, in a pleasant voice.

Sean looked at me and nodded.

"Nice to meet you, Sean."

"Is it, Ray?" he replied, spitting my name out as if it were a curse. "Erin," he yelled toward the kitchen, "bring me a fuckin' beer, OK?"

Erin came into the dining room. She looked a little flustered, but no less beautiful. Holding a bottle of beer in her hand, she stood a few feet away from her brother. "Are you going to behave, Sean?" she asked sternly. Sean glared at Erin. "Are. You. Going. To. Behave. In. Front. Of. My. Guest?" Erin asked, enunciating every word. Sean said nothing. Erin turned on her heel, carrying the beer back to the kitchen.

"Fine, Erin. Bring me the fucking beer, and I'll be a good boy."

Erin returned and handed Sean the beer. "You'd better," she said in a low, menacing tone, which I immediately filed away as something I never wanted her to use with me. As Erin returned to the kitchen, Sean drained half the beer in one swig and banged it down on the table.

Erin rolled her grandmother into the dining room, to the head of the table, and she took her napkin and put in on her lap. "You OK, Seanie?" she asked her grandson.

"Yes, Grandma," Sean responded gently.

I was beginning to understand why Erin hadn't invited me to her house before this, and I hoped that I'd make it out alive.

Luckily, Erin appeared carrying a bowl, filled with salad, and handed it to me. I took a portion and passed the bowl across to Liam, who did the same, passing it to Sean, who filled his plate and his grandmother's before putting the bowl in front of Erin's place. We ate the salad, and I answered Erin's grandmother's questions about where I was from, and about the team. Liam occasionally interrupted to keep his grandmother on topic, while Sean ate, drank his beer and glared at everyone. As we all were finishing the salad, I saw Erin shoot Liam a look, and he nodded before standing and clearing our plates. He returned with a huge tray of lasagna which looked and smelled incredible.

"Wow," I exclaimed. "That smells incredible."

"Wait until you taste it, Ray," Liam responded. He cut the lasagna and put a hunk on everyone's plate—bigger ones on the men's plates and smaller ones on the women's. It was clear that they were waiting for me to start, so I cut off a small piece and stuck it in my mouth. It was as delicious as expected.

"That's incredible. Wow," was the best I could muster.

Erin's grandmother responded, "Thanks, Ray, but the credit goes to Erin. She made it."

I looked at her, a little surprised. "Really?"

A little defensively, Erin replied, "Grandma walked me through every step. It's her recipe, but I just put it together."

"Oh, Erin, don't be ashamed," her grandmother responded. "You can be a modern woman and still cook."

I watched Erin turn bright red, and I reached out and touched her arm. "It's delicious. Thanks," I whispered.

"So, what's so great about this guy, Erin, that you fucking cook for him?" Sean demanded.

"Can it, Sean," Erin responded.

"No, really, E. A mediocre minor league pitcher? What's so great about him?"

Erin's color, which had faded, rushed back into her face as she stood up and walked around the table to her brother. "What's great about him, Sean, is that unlike you, he's a gentleman, and not a drunken idiot who is filled with anger and self-pity." Showing surprising strength, she pulled Sean's chair from the table, and wheeled him out of the room. I could hear Sean cursing at her, and then a door slam, followed by the sound of her footsteps before she reentered the dining room and sat down at her seat.

"So, where were we?" Erin asked, taking a bite of the lasagna.

*

After dessert, I was stuffed, and needed to get to the stadium. I kind of hoped not to have to pitch because I felt like the Pillsbury Dough Boy. Erin offered to walk me home, and after saying good bye to everyone except Sean, and carrying a heavy package of leftover lasagna, we headed back to my place.

About a block into our walk, Erin turned to me. "Sean wasn't always like that, y'know."

"Really?"

"Yeah. He used to be like Liam. Imposing, but sweet. Sure, he wasn't afraid to mix it up—none of us was—but he was a great big brother to both of us."

"What happened?"

"Sean and Liam are a year apart, and were inseparable. In high school, they were defensive ends on the football team, and played together in college. When Sean graduated, he followed my dad into the Fire Department, and a year later, Liam joined up. After my parents died, my brothers took care of me and Grandma. Long story short, Sean was at a fire—he went into a house to save some kids—and a wall came down on him. We thought he was dead, but he recovered, but was paralyzed from the waist down. That's when he started to drink, and get angry, and fight. Even from his chair, he was getting into it with people, and it rarely ended well."

"That's terrible."

"Yeah. But instead of trying to overcome his problems, he just wallows in self-pity. He and Grandma spend most of their time alone in the house. We have someone come by a couple of days a week to take Grandma out for air, and keep her active, and Sean will roll himself out whenever he wants. Sometimes he comes back drunk, sometimes he's bruised and bloody, and sometimes he's gone for a few days. Luckily, we know a bunch of local cops, and the firefighters all look out for him, but he's become really toxic. I'm sorry you had to see that."

"Really, it was no problem. He seems afraid of you."

She smiled a devilish smile at me. "He should be, right?"

"Yes, ma'm," I replied with a grin.

"I don't take his shit, and I'm not going to let him insult my friends, or make life harder for Grandma, who has emphysema and other problems of her own."

"Sorry."

"There's nothing to be sorry about, Ray. It is what it is. And I deal with it. Although you probably understand why I haven't invited you over before."

I nodded. "It's really OK. But I expect you to be making me that lasagna again soon."

"Don't push your luck, buddy." Her harsh tone was belied by the big smile on her beautiful face and the twinkle in her blue eyes.

At that point, we had reached my place. We kissed, and Erin turned to head back. Of course, I watched her walk away for a few seconds before heading into my apartment to change and head to the park.

*

A week or so later, we were returning from a reasonably successful road trip, still in second, but keeping it close, when Teo called me aside after we had gotten off the buses and asked me to come to his office. I was no longer worried about getting cut—I'd been having a good season—but I thought maybe Arroyo was being called up and they would be making me the closer, which would be great for both of us. I entered his office, and he and Bobby were waiting.

Teo smiled at me. "Poole, you lucky motherfucker. Pack your shit, you need to be on a flight to Los Angeles first thing tomorrow."

It took me a second to realize what he was saying. The big club was in LA, which meant that I was going to the major leagues. "Wait. What the fuck? Why not Fonzie?"

Bobby laughed. "Good point, Ray. Let me call them back and suggest that." I must have looked horrified. "Look, kid, I'll be straight with you. They're grooming Fonzie to close for them, and they need a long man/setup guy. They don't want to mess up Arroyo by changing his role. You've been doing great in that role all year."

"Sorry, I'm in shock, guys."

"Me, too," said Teo. "Remember, I saw you pitch in the low minors." He smiled broadly at me. "Look, Ray, Cal turned his ankle, and they expect him to be out for a couple of weeks, so that's probably the maximum time you'll be up. But depending on how you do, and how much you pitch, they might send you back earlier, or keep you longer."

I nodded. I understood how teams managed their relief pitchers, and someone like me, who could throw multiple innings, or just one, and had minor league options, could be shuttled back and forth. The goal was, at least, to stay on the shuttle and not let this be my only shot.

As I was thinking, Bobby interrupted my reverie. "Ray, I have faith in you. You've pitched with and against a lot of these guys in spring training, so you know what to expect. Do the work, listen to the coaches and the veterans, fit in, and pitch like your life depends on it. Because it fucking does."

"Thanks, Bobby."

"And one more thing."

"What?"

"Enjoy yourself. You're about to realize your childhood dream."

Holy shit, I thought to myself. He's right. "I need to call my parents."

Teo chuckled. "You're right. And that hot girl who's been hanging around with you for some reason."

I nodded again, still dumbfounded.

"The ticket will be emailed to you later, and make sure you're at the airport fucking early."

"Thanks, guys."

Bobby stood up and shook my hand. "Although I'm probably going to see you in a couple of weeks, I hope I don't see you until spring training."

"Same here," I said, laughing, and walked out into the now empty locker room in a daze to pack up my stuff and make some very happy phone calls.

*

Somehow, I ended up sitting in the dugout in Dodger Stadium, wearing a major league uniform with my name on it and an unfamiliar number, 62.

The flights were a blur, as was the ride to the stadium, my brief meeting with Tommy Burleson, the veteran manager, and a slightly longer meeting with Jason Cordero, the pitching coach, who I had worked with a little during the spring. I was told to be ready to pitch at any time, but also to be ready to be sent back without throwing a single pitch, which I understood, but hoped would not be the case. I got my uniform and other equipment and was given a locker with the other pitchers, a few of whom I knew from the minors or the spring, but it was still all bizarre. I jogged in the outfield and stretched to get loose as the crowd began to arrive, although Dodger crowds were notorious for their late arrival and early departure, all blamed on the traffic.

I followed the other relievers to the pen, and found myself a seat toward the edge of the group. I was trying to look like I belonged, when I heard a vaguely familiar voice yelling, "Ray. Ray Poole."

Turning toward the sound, I saw two young, attractive women. The one yelling looked familiar, but it wasn't until she stopped yelling that I realized who it was.

"Allison?"

A big smile broke out across her face, as she whispered something to her friend.

"Go, on rook. Talk to the lady," Sammy O'Leary, a veteran reliever, grunted to me, so I walked over to the fence.

I noticed that both Allison and the other woman, who appeared to be Latina, and poured into a skin tight dress, were wearing lanyards with official credentials.

"Allison Pullman. What are you doing here?"

"I'm an intern with the Dodgers. I work in the promotions department."

"Wow, that's great."

"Yeah. But wow, Ray, you made it. I'm so proud of you."

"Thanks, Allison." I paused. "You know, I owe it all to you. And Will." I noticed her face cloud over when I mentioned his name.

"I told you that was a good pitch." She paused. "Will, on the other hand turned out to be an asshole."

"I'm sorry."

"Yeah, whatever," she said, but the expression on her pretty face belied her true feelings. "By the way, this is Maria Fernandez, one of the other interns. She's from L.A., and has shown me around."

"Nice to meet you, Maria."

"You too, Ray. Allison told me all about when you stayed with her family."

"They took good care of me."

"By the way, Ray, Mom and Dad told me to say congratulations to you."

"Tell them I say hi."

"I will." She paused and looked a little embarrassed, as Maria gave her a look. "Uh, Ray, Maria really wants to meet Edwin Rosario. Could you ask him to come over?"

I barely knew Rosario. He had signed with the team from the DR when he was 16, and he shot up to the majors. We were never on the same team, but did meet during spring training. I had no idea if he had a girlfriend or a wife, but I figured, why not try to introduce him. "Sure. Let me get him." I turned and found Edwin speaking in Spanish with one of the other pitchers and the bullpen catcher.

"Edwin, remember me? Ray Poole?"

"Yeah. Sure. Welcome." His English was still spotty, but I assumed he'd understand the next part. "That girl over there," I pointed, "Is a friend of a friend, and she wants to meet you." His big smile, as he appreciated Maria's curves, made it clear that he understood my meaning, if not necessarily all of the words. He stood and followed me to the fence.

"Maria, Edwin. Edwin, Maria." They started speaking in rapid Spanish, and I turned to Allison.

"College is good?"

"Yeah, it's great. I'm majoring in sports management, I pledged a sorority, I love it."

"That's great. I'm happy for you. Look, I have to go, the game's about to start, and I don't want to mess up on my first day."

"Can we catch up after the game? I can take you to the best taco truck. Maria introduced me to it."

I thought about it. "I'd love to. But this is my first night. I don't even know where I'm staying tonight."

"Oh, you're at the Hyatt Regency. It's nice. Most of the visiting teams stay there."

"Thanks. How about we do it tomorrow? I'll feel more settled in, OK?"

She looked a little disappointed, but put on a smile. "OK. Then how about tomorrow morning? There's a cool breakfast place near the hotel. Good pancakes—and before you ask, not as good as Betty's." I laughed. "I can pick you up at, say, 8—is that OK? I have to get to work."

"That'll be fine. I'll still be on east coast time anyway."

"Poole, stop flirting with that girl and sit your ass down," bellowed the bullpen coach, and he was right.

"See you tomorrow, Allison,"

"Bye, Ray."

I went back to the bench and took the appropriate shit from everyone, except Edwin, who had a big smile on his face. Even after I explained who Allison was, the teasing continued, until Sammy O'Leary came over to me. "Wait, that's Allie Pullman?"

"Yeah, Sammy. Goes by 'Allison' now."

"Shit, she was just a kid when I stayed with the Pullmans."

"I stayed with them, too."

"Nice family. Girl's really grown up."

"She's in college now. Clemson."

"No shit."

"Yeah. I'm having breakfast with her tomorrow morning."

"Tell her I said, hi, and to say hi to Sandy and Terry."

"Will do."

The game had started, and we tried to pay attention from our vantage point. Every once in a while, I had to remind myself where I was. And that if I stayed for more than a few days, I'd make more money than in the whole AAA season.

*

Breakfast with Allison was fun. It was a classic Los Angeles morning, where the light filtered through the smog, and the temperature was comfortable, but you knew that it was going to get hot later. But of course, the restaurant was well air-conditioned as we settled into our booth. She caught me up on her life. She loved college, loved her classes, loved her sorority. She brought me up to date on her parents, who continued to rent out the room to players, although she claimed they never liked anyone as much as they liked me. I told her to pass along regards from Sammy.

While we ate the good, but not Betty's good, pancakes, I told her a little about my last couple of years, although really, it was just pitching and moving to new places.

Allison told me about her job with the Dodgers, which was pretty low level, but if she did her work, and didn't interrupt, she could pretty much wander around the offices and even sit in on meetings. She told me that her goal was to be a GM someday. I was encouraging, but understood that considering the few available jobs, and the lack of any women holding them, it was even less likely than my making the majors. But I was proof that there was no reason not to try to live your dream.