Big League Dreams Ch. 04

Big League Dreams: Chapter 04

I started this story a while ago, before COVID-19 and before the likely contraction of baseball's minor leagues. So, it exists in a fantasy world where these things didn't happen. I hope that the quality of the story allows you to ignore that. Also, while I never specifically say what baseball organization is featured, it is based on one team, which is pretty obvious, especially if you have read some of my earlier stories. But I've taken liberties with locations of minor league teams, and my descriptions of the minor league cities and towns are completely fictional.

I'd suggest reading the prior chapters to understand what's going on. As with all of my stories, they are not submitted until completed, so the chapters will appear every few days. This one's a little shorter because it made sense to break it where I did. Thanks for reading!

I only pitched a few more times in the majors, in Los Angeles then San Francisco, before we came back home, always in what were called "low leverage situations," but that was fine. At this level, I hadn't yet earned the trust necessary to be on the mound when the game was on the line. My parents came to the home games, but I never made it out of the pen, but it was great seeing them, and I know my Dad enjoyed sitting with the players' families and having access to the stadium club and free food. But I could see that Cal was getting ready to return to the roster, and inevitably, I was called into the manager's office. Tommy and Jason were positive, told me that I had done well, for the most part, showed good baseball smarts, and if I could keep control of my changeup, I had a chance to stick, if not this year, then maybe next year. It all depended on injuries, trades, free agents. All the stuff I knew. But all I heard was that the big league manager and pitching coach considered me at least a borderline major league pitcher and that was enough to encourage me, and make getting sent down less painful. That, and getting to see Erin again. Hands were shaken, pleasantries were exchanged, and I went out to pack up my gear, which now included my own small collection of major league logo equipment, for the trip to the airport and the short flight back to AAA.

*

I had to go straight to the stadium for a game, forcing me to delay my reunion with Erin, although she promised to meet me at my apartment after the game, which made me hope for a fast game or even a rain out, but the sky was clear and no rain was in the forecast. The guys were happy to see me. The ones who hadn't been called up yet had a ton of questions, and the veteran guys mostly gave me crap about not sticking, but it was mostly in good fun. We all knew how rare the opportunity I had been given was, especially for someone who hadn't been a high draft pick, so even the veterans respected what I had achieved. We won, and I didn't have to pitch, which was actually good.

After the game, the guys insisted that I spend some of my new found wealth on drinks for them, but I begged off, telling them that Erin was waiting, but that I'd be buying the next night. Which led to the expected teasing and rude comments, but I couldn't have cared less, knowing what was waiting for me back at my apartment.

When I entered the apartment, all of the lights were off, except for what appeared to be the bedside lamp, which created a path of light from the living room back to the bedroom. With full knowledge of the delight awaiting me at the end of that path, I tossed my keys on the table and hurried toward the source of the light.

Entering the bedroom, I was not disappointed. Lying on the bed, fully nude, was a stunning red head, with her legs slightly parted, to give me an incomparable view of every delicious part of her. Her eyes were half open, looking sexy, and her mouth was set into a half smile. "You. Here. Now," she whispered, pointing at the junction of her thighs. Which was exactly where I wanted to be, anyway. I tore my clothes off and dove into bed, my face buried in her fragrant, wet pussy. We had done this enough for me to know exactly how to get her off, and as much as I wanted to get it done quickly, so that I could bury my cock inside her, I also knew from experience that if I took my time and built her arousal slowly, it would lead to a more powerful orgasm for her now, and more pleasure for me later.

So, I held back, and teased her, bringing her close to orgasm before backing off, again and again, until she was whimpering with desire and was barely able to choke out the words, "stop teasing me," which was my cue to attack her clit with full force and bring her to a screaming, shaking orgasm. While she recovered, and I felt proud of myself, she grabbed on to my cock, which was desperate for attention, and made it clear where she wanted it. I obliged, and while I tried to keep a slow rhythm as I pumped into her, she was having none of that, urging me to go faster with her hips, legs, and ultimately her words. "Faster, Ray. Harder," she insisted, as I began to piston nearly uncontrollably as she gripped me around the waist with her strong thighs. I felt her orgasm again, and that set me off, as I unloaded two weeks of pent up desire deep inside of the woman who turned me on more than any other I had ever known.

Our reunion lasted throughout the night, until we fell asleep, spooning and exhausted.

*

For the rest of the season, I focused on honing my changeup, and working on my other pitches, but we were in a pennant race, so results were still important. Unfortunately, the big club was fighting for a wild card spot, and there were no injuries down the stretch, so I never had the chance to get back to the show. They did call up Arroyo for the end of the season, which meant that I ended up getting most of the save situations until we were eliminated from contention. At that point, since no one in the organization, me included, saw me as a major league closer, they decided to try out Gus Hermann, who had been closing at the A and AA levels, and was considered the next "closer of the future" after Fonzie. We finished in second, which was respectable, but it was ultimately unsatisfying.

On the other hand, my relationship with Erin was more than satisfying, and not only in bed. She and I seemed to connect, and while she knew far less about baseball than me, I knew far less about most other things than she did. But I was more than willing to indulge her other interests, and so in my free time, she continued to introduce me to the cultural life of the area. I spent some time with her at her place, and even had some civilized conversations with Sean, while Liam actually became a good friend, and I occasionally went out for beers with him and some of his firefighter friends.

As the season ended, I suggested to Erin that I stay in the area, and I was ecstatic when she seemed to think it was a good idea. The team hooked me up with a local indoor baseball training facility so that I could make some extra money in the offseason. I was happy that the organization kept me on the 40 man roster, which meant a little more pay, but it was far from a windfall, and I could get dropped off at any time if they needed my roster spot. So working during the offseason was still a must. Interestingly, though, the organization sent the strength and fitness coach to meet with me before the season ended, and I was given a serious regimen designed to strengthen my arm, legs and core, with the goal being to add a few miles per hour to my fastball, so that the changeup was more of a contrast. In addition to that, they had arranged for the minor league fitness coach, who owned a gym in town, to work with me a couple of times a week, to make sure that I was on track. I looked upon all of this investment of time and money as a good sign for my future.

After spending a couple of weeks with my parents at home and seeing some friends, I headed back north. Marco was more than happy to have me keep paying rent during the offseason, and I actually spent a few bucks to upgrade things like my linens and kitchen stuff.

My offseason days often started with sex with Erin, a shower with Erin, breakfast with Erin, after which she would head off to the library to work on her research. I'd then head through the increasingly cold city to the gym, do my workout, shower again, drive to the baseball facility, throw for a while, then work with clients, mostly high school and college pitchers, although I did have one guy who played in an over-40 hardball league and took it way too seriously. Then, yes, another shower, and head home, either to meet Erin somewhere or to wait for her to come over. We'd eat, talk, get back into bed, and screw until we fell asleep.

It was, easily, the best offseason of my life.

*

I came to spring training feeling strong, confident, and ready to head north with the big club. But baseball has a way of ruining people's plans. Offseason trades brought in some veteran relievers, as the team decided that it was time to win. Jamari and Caden were traded away for these pitchers. And while the extra muscle I put on made me look better in a bathing suit, I had trouble controlling my pitches, including the changeup, which often ended up sitting high, looking like it was resting on a tee, making it easy to hit hard. The coaches tried everything, from having me stretch to psychological stuff, to getting me tired, but it wasn't working, and the more I failed, the more frustrated I got, which led to more failure. I went from pitching in the major league exhibition games to the minor league games, and finally to simulated games. I was miserable. I spoke with Erin every night, but I was spiraling badly, as I saw the major leagues, which were tantalizingly in my grasp, fading away rapidly.

We were in the last week of spring training, and I had already been told that I wasn't making the majors, and I was ticketed for AAA again, or if I didn't straighten out, even AA. Baseball is a brutal business, and all of this made me worry that I'd finally reached the end, despite the fact that I had literally done exactly what they had told me to do. I even started looking online for places to get a teaching certification. Roscoe, who was somehow always there for me, had been struggling himself at the plate and was also worried about his future, dragged me out drinking one night. We weren't at the bar to meet women, play pool or darts, or make conversation with each other. We were there to get passed out drunk, and at that, we succeeded. To this day, I don't remember how I got back to the hotel, but I did.

I woke up the next morning with the worst hangover that I had ever had, and after taking a handful of Advil and drinking a truckload of water, I staggered to our camp and suited up. Feeling like shit, I was having enough trouble putting one foot in front of the other that I forgot to feel sorry for myself. When I started throwing, it felt freer and easier than it had the whole spring. My fastball even made that different popping sound in the glove that pitchers with really good fastballs get. And the changeup was darting around, heading where I wanted it to.

The coach watching me called for Jason and Bobby, who observed me pitching for a few minutes, and then called me over.

"You look like shit," Jason said, "but you're throwing great."

"Yeah. I'm not sure why, but it's clicking today."

"OK. Keep it up, and we'll be watching. You still aren't coming north with us, but if you can keep pitching like this, I'm sure we'll be seeing you soon."

Bobby nodded in agreement, and I could almost see him rejiggering the AAA bullpen roles in his mind.

My outlook improved dramatically, and even after the coaches left, I was throwing well. They put me in the AAA game that afternoon, and I was effective, and continued to be effective the rest of the spring. They sent me back to AAA, which would have been a huge disappointment at the start of the spring, but considering where I was a few days before, was a huge relief.

Plus, there was Erin.

*

I was in a place where you didn't want to be as a ballplayer—comfortable at AAA. I knew all of the staff, the fastest way to get to the stadium, the best vendors, the best places to be after the game, even the best place to sit in the bullpen. But having tasted the majors, I burned to get back, and eventually, with Bobby the pitching coaches' help, and our fitness coach, I figured out how to make my new physique work. Although Gus got most of the save opportunities, I was the primary setup guy, stepped in as closer when Gus needed a night off, and I was doing well.

Erin and I were in a very good place. We had both said "I love you," to each other, and meant it, and we spent most of our spare time together. Whether I made it to the majors this year, or was resigned to a minor league career, I planned to ask her to marry me at some point, probably during the offseason, when I had a better sense of my future. And how expensive a ring I could buy.

As usual, we were doing well as a team, and were at or near the top of the standings in May, when we went on a long road trip down south. As we were heading on the bus from Charlotte to Gwinnett, outside of Atlanta, I got a text from Allison, telling me that she was going to be at the game with some of her sorority sisters. I told her that I looked forward to seeing her—suggesting that she meet me at the players' entrance rather than at the bullpen—and made her promise that she wouldn't ask me to set up any of her friends with my teammates, like in L.A. She agreed, but mentioned that Edwin and Maria see each other whenever the team makes a trip west.

Getting off the bus, I couldn't miss Allison, waiting by the player's entrance with another young woman, both wearing tight t-shirts with their sorority's Greek letters. As I approached, I confirmed again that she had really turned into quite a beautiful woman, which shouldn't have surprised me, considering that her mother was attractive. She hugged me, which I didn't expect, and after she introduced me to her friend, we briefly caught up. She had arranged for the sorority trip, and they had rented a bus and come to the game and were going to spend the rest of the weekend in Atlanta before heading back to campus.

"Did you do this to just to see little 'ol me?" I teased.

She looked down, sheepishly. "Yeah."

"What if I had gotten called up?"

Allison shrugged. "We would have come anyway. Although most of the girls like baseball, they all want to party in Atlanta."

"Cool." I paused. "I gotta get inside and get ready."

"I know," she said. "It was great seeing you, Ray. Hope I can see you again." She smiled brilliantly at me. "I'll be back in L.A. this summer as a senior intern. I really hope to see you there."

I understood exactly what that meant, and I also hoped to be on the big league roster by then.

When I came out on the field to do some stretching and jogging in the outfield, I saw a cluster of women, all wearing the same sorority t-shirt, sitting down the right field line. When I headed to the bullpen, I ran by and waved at Allison, noticing that pretty much all of her sisters were holding large beers and looking happy, some of whom were talking to young men who were circling the group like sharks.

*

I was only back a day from the road trip, having enjoyed one amazing night with Erin, when I got the call again. One of the new setup guys they had traded for in the offseason, Tony Hamilton, hurt his shoulder, and looked to be out for an extended length of time, possibly the rest of the season.

After letting my parents know, I called Erin, who seemed happy, although maybe not as happy as I would have expected.

"So, do you think you'll be there the rest of the season?" she asked.

"They wouldn't promise anything, of course, but Jason—the pitching coach—told me that if I pitched well, there was a good chance. I'll be staying in a hotel near the stadium at first, and take it from there."

There was a pause on the line. "So, when will I see you again?"

"Well, I hope not here for a while," I said, trying to make a joke, but Erin either didn't get it, or didn't like it, because she didn't respond.

"Look, you can come down and meet me, or even join me on a road trip, if you want. Maybe one with an off day, so we can do some sightseeing?"

"I guess that would be fun." She paused. "I'm gonna miss you, Ray."

"I'm gonna miss you too, Erin. I love you."

"Love you too, Ray. And I'm really proud of you, even if I don't sound like it."

"I get it, Erin."

"Just know that I'm waiting here for you, and if I hear—"

"Stop," I interrupted. "I just told you I love you, and I hope you trust me."

"I do, Ray. Really."

"Look, I gotta get my stuff and go to the airport. Figure out when you can take a few days off, and look at the schedule, and let's talk."

"OK. Will do. Safe travels."

"Thanks. I'll call you when I get there. Bye." I disconnected the call. Sure, I was going to miss her terribly, but I needed to get myself back to the majors.

*

It had been a month since my callup and I was beginning to feel like I had settled in. Although I had started off only pitching in situations where I couldn't hurt the team, after some success (although not universal success—I think that the ball that Brandon Franks hit off me hasn't landed yet), I occasionally began to get called on when the game was actually in doubt. But I knew my place as basically the last guy on the staff and did what I could to help the team.

I know that Teo, who had replaced Tommy Burleson as manager in the offseason, and Jason appreciated it, because they told me, and I really tried to savor the experience. Not only the amazing working conditions and support (and the bigger paychecks), but also the opportunity to pick the brains of some of the best players and coaches around. As I've probably mentioned more than once, since I wasn't the best physical specimen (despite the improvement after last offseason), I needed to use my brains to succeed.

Since I left, Erin and I spoke almost every day, and I was able to convince her to fly down for one night, which amounted to an expensive, but welcome, booty call, since she needed to be back the next day to finish her semester's work. But since school was over, she was willing to take a break from research and writing to spend a week with me, and I couldn't wait.

I had to be at the stadium before she arrived, but she texted me when she got to her seat in the friends and family section while I was in the locker room after my running and stretching. So, although I could have walked under the stands to the bullpen, I made sure to come out to the field to wave at her. I could see her sitting alone, looking beautiful in a blouse and shorts, reading on her Kindle. After yelling her name, she looked up and gave me a big smile and a thumbs up. I blew her a kiss and jogged toward the bullpen.

We were up by three in the sixth, when our starter lost it, and they called me in to get out of the inning, and maybe pitch the seventh, depending on how many pitches I threw. After throwing my warmups, I looked, almost reflexively to where Erin was sitting, and I could see her, no longer reading, but watching me. Now, Erin had seen me pitch a bunch of times at AAA, but for some reason, seeing her that night made me nervous, like I hadn't been in weeks.

I got the sign from Corey, and threw my fastball over his head, which is pretty embarrassing for a major league pitcher. He gave me the "calm down" sign, and I was able to run a changeup away for strike one. But I made the mistake of looking at Erin before the next pitch, and I grooved a fastball, which I never was supposed to throw anywhere where a hitter could do damage. Kingery pulled it on a line over the left field wall, where it bounced hard off the concrete and back on to the field. Up by two.