Big League Dreams Ch. 04

Corey pointed to his head, which I knew meant to get my head into the game and focus, but I couldn't. I walked the next batter on five pitches, although it would have been four, if he didn't swing at a ball in the dirt. And the next batter singled, making it first and third. The tying runs were on base, and I could see Jason jogging out of the dugout, and Corey approached from behind the plate.

"What the fuck is wrong with you, tonight, Poole?" Jason asked, with much less patience than he usually had with me.

"Don't know, Jason. I can't locate my pitches."

He smiled. "Anything to do with that young lady in the stands that you were drooling over before the game."

My stomach fell. If he saw it, then some of the guys did, too, and I was going to get all sorts of shit about it. Especially after the way I pitched. "Maybe."

"Look, Teo wanted to take you out, but I convinced him that you could get out of this. Don't make me look like an idiot, Ray."

I nodded, as the home plate umpire came to break up our meeting. Jason swatted me on the butt and jogged back to the dugout, and I peered in to Corey, trying to block everything out other than his glove. The hitter was Martin Alves, a contact hitter, and I needed him to not make contact. Corey called for a fastball inside, and I hit the glove, but it was ball one. He called for a fastball outside, and again, I hit the spot, but it was ball two. Corey knew exactly what he was doing, though, and he called for the change, fading away from the righty, and Alves nubbed it back to me. I looked the runner at third back, and wheeled and threw to first for the first out.

The infield moved to double play depth, and I was happy to see that Randy Oberg, their pitcher, was in the box. I had pitched against Randy in the minors, and he was a very bad hitter. Even worse than me, if that's possible. He took an outside fastball for a ball before swinging at an in-running changeup, that rolled sharply to second, which led to an easy double play. I was out of the inning, with only one run allowed.

When I got back to the dugout, I sat next to Jason.

"Good coaching, huh, Poole?" he asked with a smile.

"Sorry you had to do it," I responded, smiling back.

"I'm proud of you for battling back, but you can't have lapses like that up here. Understand?" He was no longer joking, and I nodded in agreement. "Teo wants to go with Cal for the seventh. Nothing personal, but he doesn't want to risk another lapse of concentration, OK?"

It wasn't OK, and I was worried that I was losing Teo's confidence, but of course I said, "Sure, I get it," and settled in on the bench, hoping that they wouldn't lose the game because of my run.

They didn't, and all was seemingly forgotten in the happy clubhouse. Well, not everything was forgotten, as many of my teammates felt it necessary to blow kisses to me. In my enthusiasm to see Erin, I had clearly made a rookie mistake. The ribbing got a little worse when I declined to go out for drinks after the game, to be with Erin, although Sammy, who seemed to have decided to adopt me as his protégé, whispered to me that a stable relationship was much better with the pressure we were under than the alternative. I had already seen the pictures of his pretty wife, his house on Long Island, and his two kids Sam, Jr. and Tara.

Erin was waiting for me outside of the player's entrance, and after a relatively chaste kiss, in light of all of the shit I was getting already, we went to my car and drove to the hotel.

Even though the hotel that I was staying in while I still felt unsure about my ability to stick in the majors was ordinary at best, there's something about being in a hotel, with the woman that you loved that made sex different. Maybe it was being out of your usual routine, or the subconscious sense that there was something illicit about hotel sex, or something else, but that proved to be the case with Erin and me. We were making out in the elevator and virtually ran to my room. I was loosening my belt before we even got to the room, and Erin started unbuttoning her blouse before I shut the door behind her.

We went at each other like animals in heat—it seemed like we had been apart for years, not just a matter of weeks—and I couldn't get enough of her taste, her smell, the way her skin felt in my hands and against mine. Erin seemed similarly excited, and as usual, she made sure to tell me exactly what she wanted, while giving me exactly what I needed. It was the wee hours of the morning before we collapsed, exhausted and trying to catch our breath, satisfied sufficiently to take a break and get some much needed sleep. In our preferred spoon position, I fell asleep with a smile on my face. And why not? I was pitching in the major leagues, and I was in love with an amazing woman.

The rest of the week went well. Erin and I made love, were able to do some sightseeing in the city before a game, and I pitched a couple of times without incident. But there was a big surprise for me a couple of days before she had to leave. Totally out of the blue, I got a text from Jillian Lowery. She was using her firm's season tickets that night, and wanted to meet after the game. It had been years since I had seen her, but I guess she noticed that I was playing in the city now, or someone told her. Either way, I was looking forward to seeing her.

Of course, I had to tell Erin, and not surprisingly for a woman with her confidence, she had no problems with us meeting, and even wanted to be there, which was fine with me. I didn't pitch that night, and we won again, so everyone was happy. I met Erin outside the player's entrance, and we made small talk until I could see Jillian approaching.

This was not the jeans and t-shirt woman that I had dated, but a mistress of the universe. Presumably coming straight from work, she was wearing a suit that even I could tell was expensive, and her hair was perfectly cut. And she was accompanied by a tall, thin, extremely handsome man in an expensive suit, his tie loosened. Jillian hugged me, and I immediately remembered the feel of her particular curves, but it was only momentary. She introduced me to her fiancé, Ralph Dennison, a senior executive at her firm, and although she mentioned what division he headed, it meant nothing to me. I, of course, introduced Erin to them, and we agreed to go to the bar in my hotel for a late drink and to catch up.

It was a tiny bit awkward, because Jillian and I had really barely known each other and hadn't seen each other in years, and Erin and Ralph were complete strangers, but we soldiered through. I learned about Jillian's rapid progress at the firm, and what Ralph did, but again, while it sounded complicated and important, it was basically gibberish. Erin discussed her research and thesis, and coincidentally, Ralph actually knew a little about the subject, and luckily the tact not to challenge Erin or to ask stupid questions. My path from borderline bush league starter to major league reliever was recounted, and Jillian was hysterical that I had learned the pitch from Allison and Will, whose older brother she knew. It was fun, I thought, but it was late, so after a drink, we said our goodbyes, Ralph called for their car, and Erin and I went up to my room.

She seemed quiet when we entered the room, and I wasn't sure why. I thought that maybe she was sad that she'd be leaving soon, but I felt I needed to ask.

"You OK?"

"Yeah, sure."

"No, really, what's wrong?"

One of the things that I loved about Erin was her no bullshit, take charge attitude. But she was definitely off.

"Really, Ray, nothing. I'm fine."

Although I've occasionally been lucky to date some remarkable women, I'm no expert. But I knew that when your girlfriend says, "nothing, I'm fine," a big red flag is waving.

"Was it Jillian? Did she say something?"

She paused and looked down at her feet. "You didn't tell me how beautiful she is."

"Why should that matter? You're more beautiful, in my opinion. And I'm with you."

"That's very sweet, Ray, and I know that I'm attractive. But that woman is otherworldly beautiful."

"It's not a competition, Erin. I love you. Not her. We had a short fling years ago. She's engaged."

"I hate to admit that I worry that now that you're up here, and have money and stuff that you're going to get bored with me."

"Never, Erin. And I'd like the chance to prove how I feel about you. Maybe more than one chance..."

Erin smiled at me, and my heart melted again. We kissed passionately, before she broke off and headed to the bathroom to get ready for bed. And when she returned, I did everything that I could to demonstrate both my love for her and my lust.

I was miserable when Erin had to head back to the airport, but we had planned another week together, this time when we were on a west coast trip that would give us a day off in San Francisco, a city that neither of us had ever visited.

*

By the time that we headed west for that road trip, the weather had warmed up, as had the pennant race. We were in the thick of it, contending for the division lead, and also for one of the wild cards. Things were clicking on the field, and I had pretty much solidified my position as the guy who came in the sixth or seventh inning and bridged the gap to the main setup guy and the closer. It even seemed that I had leapfrogged over a few guys, and was occasionally getting into meaningful situations. And when the 'pen was overworked, and they decided to send someone with options down to get a fresh arm, they didn't pick me, much to my surprise.

Our team policy prohibited wives and girlfriends on the team flights, so I bought Erin a first class ticket—I was feeling comfortable, and I thought she deserved something nice, since she'd be spending much of the next week waiting around for me, or at the ballpark. The team arrived in Los Angeles before her flight, so we went to the hotel, checked in, then got back on the bus to go out to the stadium. I had told Erin that she could come to the game if she wanted, or just meet me at the hotel after the game, and she said that she figured she'd be tired, and just meet me at the hotel, so when I checked in, I made sure that they'd take care of her. One of the fun things about being a major league baseball player is that people often go out of their way to make things easy for you, which is pretty much the opposite of the minors.

Unfortunately, we were flat after the long flight, and lost 4-1, and I didn't get in the game. But while most of the guys were bummed out, I was excited to get back to the hotel to see Erin, so I just pretended to be sad. As I was leaving the clubhouse, I heard someone yell "Ray. Ray Poole," and I saw Allison striding purposefully down the corridor. As much as I wanted to get to the hotel, I had to say hi. We hugged, and she told me that she was really enjoying her summer so far.

"Allison, I have to go now—the bus is leaving for the hotel."

"I could drive you, if you want," she suggested.

I really didn't want to get involved with her right then, with my mind on Erin. "That's OK, Allison, I'll take the bus with the team."

She looked disappointed. "Breakfast tomorrow, then?" she asked, looking hopeful.

"Sorry, I can't. My girlfriend is waiting for me."

"Erin, right? You guys are still together?"

"Yeah, we are." I looked at my watch. "I gotta go, Allison."

"OK, Ray. Good seeing you." She seemed bummed.

"Maybe we can get together tomorrow after the game. I can introduce you to Erin."

Allison smiled, but it seemed forced. "Sure, Ray. That'd be great."

We hugged again, and I headed out to the bus.

After the next game, where I pitched well enough (gave up a walk and a hit, but got out of the inning unscathed) and we won, Allison was waiting outside the clubhouse, and we made small talk until Erin arrived and I introduced them.

"Wait," Erin said, smiling, "You're the one who taught him the changeup?"

Allison beamed. "Yep."

"Saved my career," I interjected.

Erin pretended to be annoyed. "I know, Ray. And I have to hear that story over and over again."

I gave Erin my biggest, fakest smile. "But honey, if it wasn't for that, we'd never have met."

"And then, I'd probably be dating some guy who lived nearby, and didn't spend most of the year away from me."

For a second, I thought she was serious, but then she started laughing, and Allison joined in. Still not 100% sure, I decided to add a rueful chuckle to the general merriment.

"It's late, Allison, and Erin and I should head back to the hotel, OK?"

"Sure, Ray," she replied, a little tersely.

"Maybe I'll see you tomorrow, but after that, we don't come back here this season."

"Unless we play you in the playoffs, right?"

"True, but you'll be back in school."

Allison nodded. "You're right. Maybe I'll go to Atlanta, then, if you play there."

"Sure. Good night."

"'Night, Ray. Nice to meet you, Erin." She walked down the hallway, away from us.

Erin looked at me. "Sweet girl. But she has a huge crush on you, Ray."

"Really? How can you tell?"

"Women have a way of noticing stuff that men are utterly oblivious to."

"Bullshit," I responded less than convincingly.

"I'm not wrong, Ray."

I paused. "You know, Erin, Jillian told me the same thing back when we were dating and I was living with Allison's family. But it's been years."

"Maybe, but she still feels it. It's kinda cute, actually."

"If you say so." I really didn't want to give it much thought. Allison was the Pullman's kid. She seemed like a nice young woman, and it looked like I might run into her here or there. But it wasn't a big deal. My phone dinged, telling me that my Uber had arrived, and we headed out to get it and go back to the hotel.

*

We took two of three from the Dodgers, and had an early flight to San Francisco. Again, I booked Erin a separate flight, leaving about the same time and we were going to meet at the hotel. We had the full day off, which was a nice glitch in the schedule, before starting a weekend series with the Giants, and we planned to spend the day sightseeing in one of the most beautiful cities in the country. Because we didn't have to deal with baggage claim and finding transportation to the city, the team got to the hotel before Erin, and after she arrived, we decided just to walk around the neighborhood before having lunch. That led us to Chinatown, where I went online and found a good place to eat.

After lunch, we walked over to the modern art museum, which Erin liked much more than I did, but I just enjoyed watching her excitement. Plus, she spent a lot of time on this trip watching baseball, and rarely ever seeing me play, so I certainly wasn't going to complain. We took a cab to Fisherman's Wharf, which was touristy, but it seemed like you kind of had to check that off the list, and then walked off the ice cream we bought heading to the Presidio, and eventually a view of the Golden Gate Bridge.

By that time, we were both tired, and we ordered a car to take us back to the hotel for a nap, and maybe some in-room fun, before going out for dinner. Some of the guys were sitting in the hotel lobby, getting an early start on happy hour, and we sat down and chatted briefly. Some of them had already met Erin, but some hadn't, and there were a few other wives and girlfriends there, so it was very genial. But eventually, Erin gave me a look that made it clear that she wanted to go to the room, so we made excuses and headed toward the elevator.

The room was nice, not huge, but certainly comfortable, with plenty of room for two people. Erin sat on the bed and took off her shoes, and being the good boyfriend that I was, I sat next to her, pulled her legs up and began rubbing her feet. The purring sounds that resulted made me extremely happy. But before we could move on to more serious activities, Erin's phone rang. I reluctantly let go of her feet so she could get the phone. Looking at the screen with a concerned look on her face, she said, "It's Liam. Why is he calling?"

"Liam. Hi. Is everything OK?"

She listened to the response. "Fuck. Is she OK?"

Erin listened with a concerned look on her face. "Are you with her at the hospital?"

At that point, I got concerned. "What's going on, Erin?" I stage whispered.

"Hold on, Liam." She turned to me. "Grandma's had another stroke. Not a big one, it appears, but she's in the hospital."

"Fuck, Erin. I'm sorry." She returned to the phone.

"OK. I'll get on the next flight and be home as soon as possible." She looked at me and I nodded. "Bye, Liam. Hug her for me."

After she disconnected, she looked at me. "I'm sorry, Ray. I have to go."

Although I was disappointed, I understood. "Let me call Adam, our traveling secretary—he can make the arrangement better and faster than we can."

"Is that OK?"

"Sure. He won't mind."

I was right. Adam quickly found the fastest and most direct flight to get Erin home, and used the original return ticket that I bought to cover the costs. And, being a good guy, he expressed his sympathies and best wishes, and arranged for cars to get her to the airport here, and from the airport at home to the hospital, all on the team.

Sadly, I kissed Erin goodbye in front of the hotel before she got into the car for the airport.

Not surprisingly, there were still some of the guys in the hotel bar, and I joined them for a drink and to forget my disappointment.

The next day, I had probably the worst outing of my major league career, and my loss of focus cost my team a valuable game. I felt like I let my teammates down, and I felt like I let Erin down, because I couldn't be there for her.

*

I didn't see Erin for the rest of the season. We had few off days, and between having to care for her grandmother, who needed more help after the stroke, and Sean, who wasn't getting any less difficult, she couldn't just pick up and fly away. She refused my offer of money to get someone to care for her grandmother to allow her more free time. And in the fall, when school started, she had additional responsibilities, especially as she was working to finish her dissertation. Our calls and texts went from multiple times a day, to once a day, to every few days, to occasionally. I still felt the same way about her, and she said she still felt the same way about me, but sometimes real life gets in the way of romance.

Meanwhile, I turned it around after that one bad outing, and was consistent down the stretch. Our hitting went cold toward the end of the season, but we squeaked into the playoffs as the second wild card. Unfortunately, we lost the play-in game, and I didn't pitch, so it was a pretty crappy day all around. As was the next day, when we emptied our lockers and said our goodbyes.

As the season wound down, I began to think about how I was going to spend the offseason. I didn't need to work, but lacking any sort of guarantee for next year, I figured that I might as well. But where? As a major league pitcher with an actual resume, I could find work pretty much anywhere coaching pitchers. So, should I go home with my parents and work with my old buddy? Stay in the city, so I'd have access to the team's facilities? Or spend the time back with Erin, which would be my first choice, if she thought it was a good idea. Luckily, when I broached the subject, she did think it was a good idea, so I found a nicer place in town to rent for the offseason, and made the same arrangements that I had the previous year both for work and for working out. Personally, I saw this as my chance to see if Erin and I could make it work.

And as long as the offseason lasted, it worked. I really wasn't working all that hard, other than on my own body, so I was able to make myself available when Erin was. I helped her and Liam with Grandma and Sean. Liam and I hung out some evenings when Erin was busy, or too tired to go out, and I met his girlfriend, Carmen, a Black/Hispanic bodybuilder who looked like she could break me in half, but was still dwarfed by Liam. Carmen enjoyed mocking the relatively small amount of weight that I lifted, but never in a malicious way. I admit that I gave some thought to what the two of them were like in the bedroom, but not in any detail.