Big League Dreams Ch. 05

"That's smart, if you want my opinion. Although I play a kids game for a living."

"I appreciate that. And you know full well that what you do is more than just play a kid's game."

Dinner passed easily, as Alison and I discussed topics we had never come close to broaching before. We touched on politics, our childhoods, and past relationships. Before I knew it, I was paying the check, and we headed out to our cars. Allison reached up and pecked me on the cheek before getting into her car, and I drove home realizing that it was the nicest evening that I had spent with a woman since I was with Erin, even without any sex. In fact, I realized that I hadn't really had a platonic female friend—unless you counted friends' wives or girlfriends, and I didn't—since college. In the back of my mind, I started to think about how Erin and I said we loved each other, but couldn't make a long distance relationship work. Was that love? What did I know?

For the rest of spring training, Allison and I tried to get together for dinner a couple of times a week, until the games started, which made it harder to make time. I found myself enjoying her company—she had a hidden wickedly funny sense of humor that was hilarious. And, it seemed, like most women who I had any sort of relationship beyond sexual, she enjoyed giving me shit—she had been doing so since she challenged me to play basketball all those years ago. Allison started texting me for advice about work issues, which I only had my common sense and baseball experience to draw on, and she was sympathetic when I had a couple of bad days on the field and started thinking the worst.

After the spring, Allison's work kept her busy, but she was able to tell me that she thought it was going well, and her duties became less menial and more interesting. The team was having another good season, and I was continuing to be the guy who did what he was asked, without much fanfare. I knew, though, that Jason and Teo and the guys appreciated the work I did, even if the spotlight shined on our excellent starting pitching and top closer.

It was the first night of a homestand in August, and I had done my pregame routine, and happened to see Allison in the stands, so I went over to check in with her. While we were talking, Bobbie Tolland, who covered the team for The Athletic, and who was, I thought, a good reporter and writer, wandered over. After saying "hi," I realized, a bit surprisingly, that it seemed like Allison and Bobbie already knew each other.

"Bobbie, how do you and Allison know each other?" I asked.

"Ray, we baseball loving women have to stick together," Bobbie replied, flashing her too-white smile. "And when Allison becomes GM, she'll remember that reporter who was nice to her when she first started," she continued, smiling. Although I suspected that Bobbie was blowing smoke up Allison's ass, I also figured that she was still trying to court a potential source, in case Allison actually got to the point where she could be useful to a reporter.

"Yeah, Ray. When she noticed me working for the team, she introduced herself, and we've had coffee together a few times."

"And drinks," Bobbie added with a laugh.

"And drinks," Allison agreed.

"From your conversation, though, it looks like you and Allison know each other pretty well, too, Ray."

"It's funny, Bobbie, but when I was in the low minors, Allison and her parents were my host family."

"No shit," Bobbie exclaimed. "Small fucking world, isn't it?"

"Yeah," I replied, as Allison nodded in agreement.

"Actually, Bobbie, Allison is the one who taught me my changeup."

All of a sudden, the atmosphere changed, and I could sense Bobbie shift into reporter mode. "This might be a fun little story, guys, whadda you think?"

I looked at Allison, and she was smiling. I gave her a small nod, and she returned the favor.

"OK."

"Great. Thanks." She took out her phone and started recording us.

"So, I was having trouble getting people out, and I was feeling like I was going to get cut, and have to get a real job. And I saw Allison, who was a pretty good softball pitcher in high school—"

"And hardball," she interrupted, proudly.

"And hardball," I agreed, nodding. "I told her I was trying to add a changeup, but nothing was working."

"So, I said, 'can I show you something?'" Allison interrupted.

*

The next morning, I woke to a text from Allison, "The story is up on The Athletic, and my Instagram is blowing up!"

Reading the story, I was impressed by Bobbie's writing, and her ability to really portray the situation as it happened. It was a nice human interest story, and it made Allison look good, and me look fortunate. Which was accurate. But it also gave me credit for mastering the pitch and riding it to the big leagues.

When I got to the stadium, a few of the guys who didn't know the story gave me some shit, but at the end of the day, it was a sweet story, and the fact that I learned the pitch helped the team almost as much as it helped me.

Allison told me later that she sensed a little more respect from her bosses, since they recognized that maybe she knew more about baseball than just having a degree in sports management, and they gave her a bunch of scouting reports to review, to see if she could spot another borderline player who might be able to succeed if given a push in a new direction.

Our division was stacked, and though we fought hard, we only made the wild card game, and didn't advance beyond that again. The press was arguing that it was time to make big changes to try to get over the hump, and everyone from the GM to Teo to pretty much every player, even our All-Stars, was, in some article or on some talk show, blamed for our shortcomings. I even had the pleasure of reading in one blog post that I was "an expendable mediocrity."

I was concerned, because I liked the team and the organization, and was just really getting comfortable. I figured that I had a successful season and I was still making a relatively low salary, so at worst, I'd be traded, but I didn't worry about getting sent down. But you never know.

A week or so after Thanksgiving, I was watching TV when my phone rang. It was Allison, which wasn't a huge surprise, because we had continued to talk during the offseason, but not as much as during the season. It was mostly about how her mother was fading away and how Terry was not taking it well. But this time, when I answered the phone, Allison was sobbing.

"She's gone, Ray. Mom's gone."

"When?"

"A couple of hours ago. We were with her at the hospice, and Daddy was holding her hand, and she kinda breathed funny, got a little smile on her face, and stopped breathing."

"I'm so sorry, Allison. Please send your Dad my condolences."

"OK." She continued to sob into the phone, and I listened, my heart breaking for her. "Uh, Ray?" She asked, sounding more like the teenage girl I first knew, and not the confident woman who had somehow become my closest friend.

"What, Allison?"

"Um, would you come down here for the funeral on Sunday?"

"Really?"

"Uh, I mean if it's not too much and you don't have any plans."

I realized that there was no way that I should do anything but get on the next flight. "Of course, I'll come. I'll get on a flight right away."

"Thanks, Ray. Y'know, you could stay in the apartment for old time's sake."

"OK. That might be fun. I'll text you when I know my plans."

"Thanks, Ray. I appreciate it, and I know that Daddy will, too."

*

Allison insisted on meeting me at the airport, claiming that it would be good for her to get out of the house for a little while, so I once again found myself riding through the town in the passenger seat of a big Mercedes sedan—but a newer model than when Sandy picked me up at the minor league park to bring me to their house for the first time. Having not yet experienced the death of a parent, I couldn't really fully understand what she was going through, and I didn't know what to say. We spent the ride making small talk and avoiding the elephant in the room. I noticed that Allison was in a nice black dress with a light black sweater over her shoulders, and that she looked tired and as if she had been crying.

As we drove through town, things looked pretty much the same, and the Pullman house still was beautiful and imposing.

Our first stop was the apartment, so that I could drop off my bag. It looked pretty much the same, with maybe a bigger TV in the living room. Remembering back to when I first saw it and was floored by the relative luxuriousness of the accommodations, I now saw it as just a nice, functional place to live. I guess I'd gotten a little spoiled over the years. I left my roller bag in the living room and met Allison outside to walk together to the main house.

When we went inside, I was struck at how the early Christmas decorations seemed out of place with the sadness of the people milling around the house.

Allison introduced me to some aunts, uncles, cousins and family friends before she led me to Terry, who looked like he had aged 20 years in the 5 or so since I last saw him. But he still had those huge, strong hands, and he thanked me for coming and for being Allison's friend after all this time. I said all of the right things, I think, before one of Terry's sisters, I think, collected him for some purpose.

We caravanned to the church for the funeral, which was painful, even for me who barely knew Sandy. I could see Allison weeping in the pews and when she struggled through a touching speech about her sometimes difficult relationship with her mother.

After the service, there was a reception in the church social hall. I recognized the Lowerys, and introduced myself, but they remembered me, and congratulated me on my success. They seemed surprised that I had come all the way south for the funeral, but I explained how coincidentally, Allison and I had crossed paths and become friendly. They showed me some pictures on their phone of Jillian's wedding, and I told them to send her my congratulations.

A tall young man, looking uncomfortable in his suit approached me. He looked a little familiar, but it was only after he stuck out his hand and said, "Ray. Will Turner," that I realized who it was.

"Hey, Will. Good to see you. Even if the circumstances aren't great."

"Yeah." He paused. "It was cool seeing you thank me for helping you with the pitch in that article in The Athletic."

"Oh. I'm glad you saw it."

"One of the guys at the store saw it and told me about it."

"You deserve the credit."

He looked down at his shoes for a second before looking at me. "Nah, Ray. You took the pitch all the way to the big leagues. I mean, I taught it to you, but couldn't even get a college scholarship with it."

I realized somehow that Will's life might have turned on that. Had he, like me, been able to harness the pitch, he could have gone to college, and who knows after that. But failing that, he ended up, still here, working in a store. Not that there's anything wrong with that, but it can't compete with the dream of a big league career.

After an awkward silence, I said, "Sorry, Will. Not that it will make up for anything, but anywhere I'm pitching, all you need to do is ask, and I'll get you tickets, OK?"

"Thanks, Ray. That'd be great."

I gave him my cell number so that he could text me.

"Ray?"

"Yeah, Will?"

"You and Allison aren't, you know, um, together?"

I chuckled as loudly as I felt appropriate at a funeral. "No, Will, we're just friends. And since I knew her parents from back then, I thought it would be nice come and pay my respects."

"Oh, because she always, um, oh, never mind." Will looked embarrassed. "Anyway, Ray, thanks."

"Thank you, Will. I mean it." He turned and hurried back to what I assumed were his parents.

Later that night, back at the Pullman's house, everyone else was asleep, and Allison and I had appropriated a bottle of Terry's best bourbon and were sitting quietly in the living room drinking. I would have been happy to go to the apartment and watch a little TV, but Allison insisted that she didn't want to be alone.

"By the way," I said, "I talked to Will after the funeral."

The basic sadness of her expression turned a little angry. "What did he have to say for himself?"

"Not much. Just that he liked being mentioned in the Athletic piece. That he was sad, I guess, that he never was able to make the pitch work for him."

"Yeah, well to hell with him," she said vehemently.

"OK, Allison. I told you all about my breakup with Erin. Why are you still so pissed off at Will?"

She took a swig of the bourbon, and made a cute little face as it burned on the way down. Luckily, it was really good, smooth bourbon, or she might have had a problem.

"Fine. It's not a big story. Will was my first, y'know. My first time. After prom, like the cliché. And then he kinda ghosted me, as much as you can in a small town like this."

"Did you ever find out why?"

"I heard that he really didn't want to do it, because of religion or something, but he did it willingly, I can assure you. He seemed pretty happy to see me naked, and all. I felt used, although I was probably the one who did seem to want it more. But apparently, once he did it, he didn't want the temptation. Which is such bullshit. "

"Really?"

"Yeah, that's what Jimmy Curtis told his girlfriend, who told me."

"I could see why you'd be angry."

She looked into her drink and at me, then back at the drink. "And he thought I liked someone else better, and was just with him because he was convenient."

"That doesn't sound like you."

"He was right, Ray," she whispered.

"Oh."

"I had a huge crush on you."

I felt my ears get hot, and I remembered Jillian's and Erin's warnings about Allison.

"But that makes no sense, Allison. You were just a kid and you hardly knew me."

"Yeah, but you treated me like a real person, not a kid. You listened to me. You were the only person who really seemed to see me then. Will was a nice guy. Sweet, loyal, loved baseball. But he couldn't hold a candle to you."

I knocked back the rest of the bourbon in my glass and poured another.

"But you had to know that nothing could have happened then. You were a teenager."

"In my mind, yes, but not in my heart." She paused. "I'm not a teenager now, Ray. And I'm not some innocent little girl. And I still feel the same way about you."

Holy shit, this escalated fast, I thought to myself. I stood up, "Allison, look, you're beautiful, smart, funny, and yes, you love baseball. And you've become one of my best friends. But I can't do this. Especially not now when you're sad and vulnerable. I think I should go now, and get on a flight home tomorrow."

She looked devastated. For me to reject her on top of her mother's death seemed cruel, but I wasn't interested or prepared for the fallout if I took her up on her implied offer.

"Let's talk in a few days, OK?"

That got a little smile. "Do you mean it?"

"Of course, I do."

I walked over to her chair and kissed her cheek. "Good night, Allison."

"'Night, Ray."

I turned and headed for the front door.

Lying in bed that night, I had to admit that if I had just met Allison for the first time, I'd be interested. And in reality, we were only like 6 years apart in age, which isn't a lot. Yeah, when I was 22 and she was 16, it would have been gross and probably illegal. But at 28 and 22, not so bad. But the problem was that I did know her when she was 16, and it still seemed creepy. Not to mention the fact that she'd had this crush on me all this time. It didn't seem right. But I actually valued her friendship. I had no idea if I could keep that, without the other, but I didn't think I had a choice.

Luckily, I was able to get an early flight in the morning and arranged for a car to pick me up early. Although I suspected that had I stuck around, I might have had a chance to have Betty's pancakes, I was willing to pass on them to avoid the awkwardness of eating them with Allison only a few hours after I rebuffed her.

*

I didn't talk to Allison for a couple of weeks, and I was surprised when her name appeared on my phone.

"Hey, Allison. How're you doing?"

"OK, Ray. Sometimes it's still hard, missing Mom and all, but you just have to get through the day."

"I guess so."

"It's OK that I called, right?"

"Of course. Any time."

"So we're still cool?"

"As long as you're still cool with me."

"Of course, Ray. I respect what you did. My feelings for you are real, but you acted like a gentleman. Which is one of the things I like about you."

"I'm not such a gentleman, Allison."

"You've never been anything less with me." She paused. "For better or worse, I guess."

I sighed audibly, but couldn't think of what to say.

Allison continued, "So, I wanted to tell you that I left my job with the team."

"Really? Why?" I was genuinely surprised. "Not because of me, I hope?"

"No, Ray. I talked to Pete Howard last week."

"The president of the team in town?"

"Yeah. Anyway, he offered me a job, basically the number 3 person on the management side. Although it wouldn't be in the majors, the money is actually a little better, especially when I'd be living at home, and the responsibility would be much bigger."

"That sounds amazing, Allison. A great opportunity."

"I know. Plus, I think Daddy needs me around. He's really depressed. He and Mom were together since high school, and he seems lost sometimes."

"Sorry to hear that. Tell him I'm thinking of him. But I really am happy for you. Although I'll miss seeing your smiling face around the team."

"Yeah, I'll miss you too, Ray. But we can still talk and text, right?"

"Of course."

"And when you guys play in Atlanta, I'll try to get to the game."

"That would be great. Let me know if you'll need my tickets."

"Maybe, although I do have other contacts, you know," she said laughing.

"I bet I end up working for you some day."

She chuckled. "That would be funny, wouldn't it?"

We ended the call. And while, on one hand, having her far away eliminated the problem of dealing with her interest in me, I really was going to miss her.

*

The next season was kind of a wash for me. I pitched fine, the team did fine, but the spark was missing. We fell short of the playoffs, and were only a couple of games above .500. There was a sense that big changes might be coming in the offseason, and I think everyone was on edge.

I did keep in touch with Allison, and she was thriving at her new job. Because it was the low minors, everything was staffed so lightly, that she was getting all sorts of responsibilities that she never would have gotten if she had stayed with the major league team. And she was working on getting her MBA at night. She hinted to me that she was dating, although nothing serious was happening. I was vague about my "dating" which continued to include a handful of short, no-strings relationships.

The other news that Allison passed along was that her father had gotten a surprisingly large offer to sell his business to a Chinese consortium, and he took it. That eliminated his having to worry about the business, and allowed him some peace of mind, not to mention more time to play golf and go hunting.

In the offseason, the team made a bunch of moves, clearing out some veterans on big salaries to bring in young players, a couple who were major league ready, but most were minor leaguers. From press statements, it was clear that Teo and his staff were on notice. Although it was clear that the team, as constituted, was not likely to compete for the playoffs, he was supposed to develop the young talent and make sure that the team was entertaining and competitive. Having known him in the minors, I knew he was up to the task.