Baseball Ch. 07: Deep Center

1. All characters are 18+

2. No characters resemble real people

3. Enjoy the fiction

Baseball Ch. 7 - Deep Center

(Author's note: This chapter features a couple sections narrated by Casey, not Johnny. These sections are marked.)

After Garcia got traded, we needed another catcher. I was fine taking the lion's share of the work, but I needed a day off every once in a while. And the team needed a backup in case I got hurt during a game.

So, Tuesday morning, Jimmy Wilson showed up. He had been with the Double-A team, and was thrilled to be promoted. In his mind, it was because his talents were being recognized. It was really more that we just needed someone, anyone, to fill that role, but nobody told Jimmy that.

We'd met during spring training. Even though he was a year younger than me, he'd been in the minors for a couple years, since he was drafted right out of high school, not college like me. When I was assigned to Triple A, he immediately resented me for jumping ahead of him on the ladder. He came into Allentown with a huge chip on his shoulder, especially to me. He basically thought he was hotter shit than he was. Also, he was an asshole who treated girls like shit. He and Dirk Pence got along just fine.

One of his more amusing moments on that first day was when he spotted Casey in one of the hallways. Before anyone could give him the warnings the rest of us got, he hit on her. I saw it and couldn't do anything, but it wasn't necessary as she handled herself perfectly. She smiled sweetly and told him to go to hell. A couple other guys who saw it laughed and took him away to tell him how off-limits she was. She gave me a silent smirk with a raised eyebrow, and I just shrugged.

I played the Tuesday and Wednesday games, then let Jimmy play on Thursday. It didn't go well. He tried to get the pitchers to throw what he thought they should throw. First, that's wrong because the catcher and pitcher need to be partners, working together. Second, it's hard to guide pitchers like that when you don't even know them. Chuck looked at me as we sat on the bench. I just shrugged. I had tried to talk to Jimmy between innings, but he wasn't exactly receptive to my constructive criticism. We both knew this was going to take some time.

--

That night, Casey unexpectedly showed up at my apartment. It was late, and she was going to come over the next day anyway for lunch. She came in and immediately wrapped her arms around me, clearly upset.

"Baby, what's wrong?" I asked, holding her.

"I talked to my dad today."

I waited for her to continue, but she didn't. "I take it things didn't go well?"

"No."

"Can you tell me what happened?"

She nodded, and told me how the conversation went:

--

(Casey's POV:)

I watched the game in the box with Dad, and I finally got up the courage to talk to him. "Dad, I have something I want to talk to you about."

"Hmm?" he responded, barely looking away from the game.

"Something important."

He turned to face me, and smiled. "Of course, honey. You have my full attention."

"I need to tell you, I've met someone, and I really like him."

"Oh? Have you been out with him already?"

"Yes, a few times." I felt guilty stretching the truth. No way could I tell him that we'd been having sex already.

He looked at me with some concern. "Honey, are you asking for my permission?" he asked. "I told you, when you ended things with Landon, you can date whoever you want as long as it's not a player." I must have grimaced, or hesitated, because he immediately knew what I was going to say next. "He's a player, isn't he?" he said with a disappointed sigh.

"Yes, but he's not like the others. He's the most wonderful man I've ever met."

"No. Absolutely not. I won't have my only daughter be the conquest of some smooth-talking athlete." Dad was adamant and strong in his demeanor.

"Dad, it's not like that!" I protested.

"I don't care what it's like. As long as he's a player on my team, or any team, you are forbidden to date that boy."

"Dad, please listen..."

"I have listened, and I've made up my mind," he said, raising his voice even more. "And if I find out you're seeing that boy behind my back, you're fired."

"What?!" I practically shrieked. "Fired?"

"I can't ground you anymore, you're a grown woman. But I can control who does and doesn't work for me."

--

(Johnny's POV:)

Casey's face burrowed into my chest. "He really yelled at me. I couldn't stop crying after that. I left and didn't go back. How could my father be that cruel?"

"I can't believe he said that to you," I told her, completely shocked. "I mean, I've only met him a couple brief times, but it seems so unlike his personality. He's usually warm and easy-going."

I held her until she calmed down. "I should go," she said. "I don't think my father would hire people to follow me or anything like that, but I want to be at my place in case he drops by unexpectedly."

"I understand. Are we still on for lunch tomorrow?"

She scrunched her face in thought. "It might not be a good idea. I don't want him to find out and punish you. Maybe... maybe we should keep our distance. At least for a few days."

"A few days? I go back on the road on Monday," I reminded her.

"I know," Casey said. "It won't be very long, I promise. Can we do dinner, Sunday night?"

"Absolutely." I took her hand. "Anything you want. I love you."

"I love you too. I'll call you tomorrow."

--

I played all three games that weekend, though Jimmy took over for me late in the Saturday night game. He caught while Ken was pitching, and poor Ken got flustered. He gave up back-to-back walks, followed by a home run. That never would have happened if I had stayed in the game.

Casey continued to try to talk to her father, and continually got shut down. I didn't get to see her for those days, but she did call. Each time, she sounded sadder than the previous call.

Sunday, after the game, Chuck called me into his office. "And close the door," he said, "we don't need this to go beyond us."

I closed it and sat. "What's up skip?"

"Two things. First, we have to figure out how to handle Jimmy."

I nodded. "I know, but he won't listen to me. I've tried."

"I know. He resents you, I think. He thinks you took his spot." Chuck tapped on his desk.

"He might listen to some of the older guys," I suggested. "Mike Karnes, or one of the other veterans."

"Maybe. I'll talk to Mike about it." Then Chuck lowered his voice a few decibels. "Then there's the other thing."

"What other thing?"

"The thing with you and Miss Wentworth."

I immediately flushed. "What thing? I don't know what you're talking about." I tried to lie.

"Don't bullshit me. I know everything that goes on in here. You think I don't know?"

I looked down at the floor. "Does anyone else know?"

"Hell no. You think I'm gonna tell JJ that his daughter is with a player? I like my life and my job." He chuckled to himself for a second. "No, and I'm not going to tell anyone. But he asked me if I'd seen anything like that, and I told him no."

"Thanks, Chuck."

"Don't thank me yet. There's more to this than you know." He stood up, and paced. "Part of this is that he doesn't want his daughter passed around, like some kind of whore for the team. No father ever wants that. Hell, you don't even have kids, but I bet you understand."

I thought about my little sister going from guy to guy like that, and the thought made me sick and angry. "Yeah, I get that."

"But there's more to it. Something's got JJ really tweaked about it. It's personal to him. I don't know what, but I bet if you can find out, it'll really be big."

"How do I find out?"

He shook his hand in a non-committal way. "Well, maybe not you. Maybe Miss Wentworth can find out."

--

That night, Casey came to my place for dinner. She was a fan of my famous lasagna. I had to wait until after dinner to relay what Chuck had told me. She was dead quiet until I'd finished.

"He's not going to tell on us?"

"No, he said he didn't want to get involved."

She looked relieved. "Well, at least there's that."

"Casey, I don't want to pry, but is there anything you can think of, any reason why your father is so adamant against you dating a team player?"

She shook her head. "Nothing I can think of."

"Any other time you've seen him that angry?" I asked, my psychiatrist skills kicking in. "Any other times you've seen him argue like that?"

She closed her eyes and thought about it. "I don't know. I think maybe I've seen him argue like that once before. I think he yelled at my mom once. But it was a long time ago, when I was little. And I was in my room, so I couldn't hear their words, just him yelling." She opened her eyes again and looked to me. "You don't think it's related, do you?"

"I have no idea," I told her. "Just trying to get to know him better. He's not usually like that, except for twice in your life? Could be a coincidence, or there could be a connection."

"So what do we do?" Casey asked.

"I guess you have some homework while I'm out of town," I said, "if you're up to it. Find out why your dad yelled at your mom all those years ago. It had to have been something significant if it got him that angry."

Casey nodded, then asked, "What if he won't tell me?"

"I don't know. Is there anyone else who might know?"

--

I'd maybe met Bob Blazer, the IronPigs' GM, once or twice. He was very hands-on with the team, but he almost always acted through Chuck and the other staff members. He'd been with the team over 20 years, most of which were as the GM. Casey worked with him directly.

Bob reported to Casey's father, Mr. Wentworth, but more importantly, they were friends. Or, about as close to friends as you can be with your boss. If anyone besides JJ Wentworth knew what was really going on, it would have to be Bob.

So, while I was on a bus with the team (I didn't really know where we were going, and didn't much care at that moment), Casey went to see Bob. She told me later about their conversation. "He seemed uncomfortable, I think. I've never seen him like that."

"Like he didn't want to talk about your dad being emotional?"

"More like he didn't want to talk about my dad to me. I think you're right, there's something else going on."

"Did he say anything?" I asked. "Any new information? Any clue we can look into at all?"

"Not really," Casey answered. "He just said he's always done whatever Dad asked him to do. He actually said those words, twice."

I thought about it. "So he's done something. Something he might not have wanted to do. Because he was made to, by your father."

"You think he did something illegal?"

"Possibly, but probably not. Anything else?"

"No, that was it. He shooed me from his office after that."

"If he did something, possibly years ago, but doesn't want to talk about it..." I pondered. "How old were you when you said you heard your father yelling at your mother?"

Casey said, "Umm, I don't know. Mom died when I was 14, so definitely before that. Probably 9 or 10, or even before that."

"I wonder if this all ties together," I said. "Maybe we should look for something Bob did around that time frame?"

Casey sighed, "This is so frustrating. Why can't you men ever just be honest? You always bottle things up."

I laughed. "No offense, but I think women do that too."

"I miss you. Play well, and enjoy Toledo."

"Is that where we are? Thanks for telling me. I was so occupied with you and your father, I completely spaced on where we were playing this week."

She laughed. "Yes, Toledo, then Buffalo. I'll see you in a week."

--

Playing in Toledo and Buffalo meant we were able to use the designated hitter again. The days I wasn't catching, Chuck asked me to be the DH. He wanted me to maintain my presence on the field, despite Jimmy catching. I still watched him struggle to work with the pitching staff when he played. About the only pitcher he didn't clash with was Mike Karnes, our seasoned veteran. He said publicly that he and Jimmy had worked out an understanding. He told me privately that he basically told Jimmy to fuck off and let him pitch his game, and Jimmy was forced to play along.

I checked in with Casey every night, but she hadn't made any progress. "There's just too much here," she complained on Friday night about the records she was analyzing from those years. "I've been at it for days and found nothing. I can't comb through it all myself."

"Sorry. I thought maybe something would stand out more obviously," I said.

"I do have an idea of how to handle it, but you won't like it."

"What's that?"

"I could bring in someone who loves combing through data like this."

I groaned. "You mean Landon."

"Yes, I mean Landon. He's the best person I can think of to handle this."

"What are you going to tell him? Please help me and my boyfriend find some long-lost family secret?"

"Of course not! But I could appeal to his vanity. I can ask him to use his precious analysis programs to analyze the trades and transactions from those years. He might find something that's out of place."

"If you think he's trustworthy, okay. You know I trust you," I said.

"Thank you. I'll talk to him tomorrow, and let you know what he finds."

--

The team got home Monday, early afternoon, and I went straight to Casey's office. She'd texted me to meet her there. I was surprised to see Landon in there with her when I walked in.

"Hi," I said, more awkwardly than I would have liked.

"It's okay," Casey told me. "He knows."

"It makes sense," Landon said, "once I started putting things together. I thought she was trying to sink my trade proposal. Turns out, she was just trying to not trade you."

I waited for him to be angry, but he didn't seem to be. "Yeah," I said, "Sorry to cause you problems."

"I admit, I was mad at first," he told me, "but I realized it wasn't really about me, was it?" He turned to Casey. "We never really would have worked out."

"No, but I do want you to stay my friend. And stay with the team." Casey told him, then looked at me. "Landon showed me his analysis, and it's really insightful. I think we can tweak it to make it account for some things that are hard to quantify, but it's already pretty comprehensive."

"Okay. Cool," I said, letting me relax a bit. "So, what did you find?"

Landon walked me through his program. It was mostly way, way over my head. I was never great with statistics like that. But he had basically looked for the years between when Casey was seven to eleven, and analyzed every trade or signing or release or any other transaction made by the entire Phillies organization.

"When I run my program, it assigns values to the players involved, and calculates if it's a good trade or not. Most of them are pretty fair - we might get a slight advantage or disadvantage, but nothing extremely unbalanced," Landon explained, then pointed at the screen. "Then there's this one."

The dots on the graph he displayed were mostly along one flat line, except for the one red dot he was pointing at. It was a lot lower than the rest. "What's that represent?" I asked.

"A trade. A really bad one for the IronPigs. It happened thirteen years ago, when Casey was nine."

"Is that it? That's the guy?"

Landon nodded. "It's got to be. It's too odd, it doesn't make sense. This guy was a hotshot player, and got traded for peanuts." He looked at Casey. "It's got to be him."

Casey took a deep breath, and let it out slowly. "Okay. I'll talk to my father."

"And?" asked Landon.

"And I owe you a favor. Thanks for your help."

--

(Casey's POV:)

I entered my father's office and stood in front of his desk, waiting for him to get off the phone. I did not sit. I simply stood and waited.

"Yes. I'll talk to you later. Goodbye," he said to the person on the other line. "Good morning, Cassandra. Have a seat," he said. I didn't, and he sighed. "I don't want to keep fighting with you about this, honey."

"Tell me about Frank Sanders."

My father's normally placid, friendly face dropped and turned pale. "I think you already know."

"I need you to tell me."

He frowned. "I don't want to, but I can tell you're not going to let it go." He retrieved a bottle and a glass from his bottom desk drawer, and poured himself a little drink. "About thirteen years ago, your mother was seduced by Frank Sanders. He was the center fielder of the team. He was young, handsome, smooth. She confessed to me a few days later, out of extreme guilt. I remember it was the angriest I had ever been."

"I remember," I told him. "It was the only time I'd ever heard you yell like that. Until the other day when you yelled at me."

My father took a swig. "I'm sorry. And I'm sorry you heard me back then too. We thought you were asleep." Another swig. "Your mother pleaded with me that night. She begged me for another chance, and I gave it to her. We went to counseling a few times, and eventually I forgave her."

"But you had to get rid of Sanders."

He nodded. "Yes. I worked with Bob. We called in favors to the major league managers. We sent him across the country to the Giants organization. The deal had a really poor return, but it was worth it to get rid of him as quick as possible. We never saw him again." He finished the drink. "Sanders never made it to the majors, his career just kind of fizzled out."

"Why didn't you ever tell me?" I said, tears escaping my eyes. I finally let myself collapse into one of the two chairs.

"I didn't want to tarnish your memories of your mother. She was your hero. You were crushed when she died." He came around the desk to sit in the other chair next to me. "Even as a teenager, you were so much like her. You still are. That's why I don't want you going out with any players. I don't want you to make the same mistake." He gave me a pointed look. "I heard about what happened with Lani. Why is it always center fielders?"

"I'm not making a mistake," I reassured him. "This man truly loves me. He's not just looking to score, he's a friend and a kindred spirit. He loves baseball just as much as I do, as much as Mom did. I know that you'll approve of him, if you just give him a chance."

"Are you sure, Cassandra? I don't want you to get hurt."

"I'm sure, Dad. I love him, and he loves me."

He forced a smile. "Can you tell me his name now? This man who loves you?"

"Promise me you won't trade him, or anything else?"

He smiled wider. "It's Mills, isn't it? Johnny Mills. That's why you fought against Landon's trade."

I nodded. "Yes, and he's wonderful. Please promise me."

"Honey, I can't make that promise. You know that. Decisions like that come from above. But I promise I won't initiate any trades."

"That will have to do, I guess."

"I'd also like to spend time with him, to see if he's all that you say."

"Of course. I want you two to get along. How about lunch together sometime, just the three of us?"

He stood, bringing me up with him, and hugged me. "Of course, honey." He kissed my cheek. "I do want to make one request, though. Please don't hide things like this from me. I want to be there in your life. I know I'm not your mother, but I want you to be able to talk to me."

"I will. I'm sorry. And Dad? You were wrong, when you said Mom was my hero. You both are."

--

(Johnny's POV:)

Casey and I had lunch with her father on Saturday that week, at a restaurant far fancier than I usually went to. We still hadn't told the rest of the team, as it wasn't their business. But it was intimidating enough to share a meal with JJ Wentworth. I'd met him before, but that was before he knew about me and his daughter.

"So, this is the gentleman who's stolen my daughter's heart," he said, shaking my hand.