Baseball and Other Lessons (Devil's Ranch Book 2) (35 page)

“The thing is, Matt, there are only two years left on your contract. Considering your injury, and the fact that three of our pitchers are entering free agency in the off-season, we need to find a way to bring in another ace.”

“Wait. So you want me to coach so you can bring in my replacement?” He couldn’t believe it. He’d been with the Wranglers organization his entire career—which was unheard of these days— and had even taken less money just so he could remain with the team. He’d been nothing but loyal, and this was what he got for that loyalty?

Screw that.

Knowing he was on the edge of saying a lot of things he could never take back, Matt opened the conference room door and hastily made his way outside. Sweltering heat greeted him.

In the distance he could hear the sounds of bats hitting baseballs, accompanied by the occasional smack of a ball into a leather glove.

God, he’d missed those sounds.

There was a picnic table under the shade of a large oak tree on the side of the building, and Matt made his way over and sat on the table, looking out at the street in front of him. Cars whizzed by, occasionally drowning out the sounds of the ballpark behind him.

Meanwhile, he felt like he was stuck, caught between two completely different worlds.

One was the one he’d known for over ten years, the world he loved and had been lucky enough to make a career out of. The other was one he’d also known for years, almost his entire life, really, but that was still somehow new to him.

On one hand, there was baseball. On the other, there was Jenn.

Both of them held his heart in their hands.

The hell of it was that without the implied threat of shipping him off somewhere else, Matt would have seriously considered the offer to coach within the Wranglers organization. Considering he still wasn’t completely sure what he wanted to do once he retired, it was a start, an offer. It was a way to remain involved with the game—and the organization—he loved long after he’d stepped off the mound.

The implied threat, however, made him want to hop on the next plane back to Del Rio and walk away from baseball and straight into Jenn’s arms.

Considering leaving her this morning had been one of the hardest things he’d ever done, the thought was tempting.

He wasn’t a quitter, though, so high-tailing it back to Texas wasn’t an option he was willing to choose at this point.

Matt heard footsteps behind him, and then Reed appeared beside him, looking uncomfortable.

“Listen, Matt, that didn’t come out like it should have.”

“I’m not sure there were too many other ways for that to come out, Reed.”

The other man sighed. “The thing is, we want to keep you in this organization. The fans love you, and everyone who works for the Wranglers respects you.”

“It sure doesn’t feel like you respect me much right now, Reed.”

He sat on the table next to Matt. “I probably respect you more than anyone I’ve ever known. You do things the right way. You’re a student of the game. You treat it seriously. You take care of yourself. You give back. You have so much more to offer than a nasty breaking ball—which the team does appreciate, by the way—and I would just hate to see you throw that future away by coming back too early and getting injured again.”

“You do realize that ninety-nine point nine out of every one hundred pitches doesn’t directly hit the pitcher, right? What happened to me was pretty rare, statistically speaking.”

“We know that. The problem is that the media and your average fan doesn’t know that, especially considering the number of high-profile pitchers who have been hit by comebackers over the past few years.”

“And they’re all pitching again.”

“They’re also much younger than you are.”

“Jesus, Reed, you make me sound like I’m ancient.”

“In baseball years you are ancient.”

Reed spoke the truth, but Matt still didn’t like to hear it. “Be that as it may, we have a real shot of winning the World Series this year. After how close we were last year, I don’t want to let the team down.”

“The only way you would let the team down is by coming back too soon and getting hurt again.”

Matt shook his head. “Whereas to me, I’m letting the team down by not playing. I’ve been cleared. Hell, I’ll even wear one of those dorky looking protective padded caps if it’ll make you feel better.”

“Those have to be custom fitted.”

“I’m sure we could get a rush order.”

Reed snorted. “If we had more time I would feel a lot more comfortable letting you pitch again.”

“We don’t have time, though, Reed. You and I both know the minor league season ends in three weeks and then the conference playoffs begin. We have time to get me three, maybe four rehab starts before then.”

“I should have known you would make this difficult.”

Matt brushed his comment aside. “Just give me a chance to prove I’m okay, Reed. Give me a few starts in the minors, see how I’m pitching and if I’m mentally solid out on the mound. Even if you and the team decide my stuff isn’t there, at the very least I’ll be able to be in the dugout for the end of the season and the playoffs and provide some of that leadership you say you respect so much.”

“I don’t know, Matt. It’s too risky.”

“It’s not like you don’t have an insurance policy on me.”

“It’s not about the money.”

“Bullshit. It’s always about the money.”

“Not this time, not when player safety is involved.”

Cars flew by in front of him. “Just one chance, Reed, that’s all I’m asking.”

“And what happens after that one chance?”

Matt grinned, knowing if he hadn’t managed to completely sway Reed he was damned close. “You give me another.”

Chapter Twenty-Four

“Ladies and gentlemen, do
we have a treat for you this beautiful Friday night. On the mound for your Oklahoma City Twisters is Wranglers Ace Matt Roberts in his first rehab start since being hit by a line drive just over two months ago and undergoing brain surgery. Stay tuned, because this promises to be a game you don’t want to miss.”

Jenn bit her thumbnail as she listened to the Twisters’ feed via the minor league baseball app she’d downloaded on her phone.

Matt had called her late Tuesday night and told her about the ambush at the Oklahoma City offices, and how he’d managed to convince Reed Thornhill to let him pitch again. Jenn wasn’t surprised that Matt had successfully argued his case——the man could be incredibly convincing when he wanted to be—but the thought of him out on the mound again had nerves dancing in her belly.

He’d assured her that he was going to wear a special hat to help protect his head, but she had her doubts regarding its effectiveness, especially considering from everything she’d read most players refused to wear them because they were uncomfortable. Google searches had also shown her photos, though, and she had a feeling most of those players simply didn’t want to look un-cool.

They’d talked and texted throughout the week when they’d had a chance—he’d been busy throwing bullpen sessions and taking in scouting reports, and she’d been busy with in-service since classes began next Monday.

“And we’re back as the Twisters defense takes the field here in the top of the first inning. Carl, tell us about the River Cats’ offense.”

“Well, Jack, the Sacramento River Cats’ offense has been one of the best in the minors over the past month, posting a team batting average of .398 with twelve homeruns, twenty-six RBIs and twelve stolen bases on thirteen attempts. Their lead-off hitter, Eric Cole, has reached base safely in twenty consecutive games, the longest running streak in the minors right now, and their clean-up hitter, Enrique Palomas, has a batting average of .423 over the past month.”

“Sounds like the Twisters have their work cut out for them tonight. Your Twisters lineup looks like this: Arturo Blanco in center and leading off, Will Bowen is your shortstop and number two hitter in the lineup. First baseman Hank Adams batting third with left fielder Ed Young in the clean-up spot. In the five-hole is third baseman Ernesto Salvador and batting sixth is right fielder Michael O’Brien. DHing tonight is Jackson McCoy, followed by catcher Adrian Soto at eighth in the order. Batting last is second baseman Thomas Everett, who Twisters fans will notice has dropped down in the batting order over the past week or so.”

“Yeah, Everett’s had some problems seeing the ball the past couple of weeks and Twisters manager Wallace Carter felt dropping him down in the batting order might help take some pressure off the youngster.”

“Right you are, Carl. And on the mound we have Matt Roberts in his first rehab start with the Twisters since that horrific line drive to the head just over two months ago.”

“Honestly, Jack, I’m surprised he’s back so soon, especially considering how long it’s taken other pitchers to come back after suffering similar injuries.”

“Well, you have to think that the Wranglers organization is being very cautious with Roberts’ rehab stints and that he’ll be on a short leash. You’ll also notice he’s wearing one of the padded caps that was approved by MLB a few years ago. Even though they’ve been available for a while, players have mostly opted not to wear them, citing discomfort and heat as their primary reasons.”

“Well, there’s also the fact that they don’t look very cool.”

“I would hope players are taking their health more seriously than how their uniform looks, but when you’re dealing with a lot of young guys, mostly between the ages of eighteen and twenty-five, you do have to wonder if looks don’t play a part in the decision to wear or not wear the protective gear.”

“Ah, the folly of youth.”

“And the umpiring crew has signaled the game’s ready to begin. Adrian Soto jogs towards home plate as Eric Cole steps into the batter’s box. Roberts shakes off a few signals before approving one, winds up for the pitch and oh, just outside for ball one.”

“Jack, that fastball was clocked at ninety-six miles per hour.”

“It sure appears that Roberts’ velocity hasn’t been affected any. Roberts approves the pitch selection, winds up and wow, that was a nasty twelve to six breaking ball. In there for a strike.”

“All Cole could do is stand there and take it.”

“Cole signals for time and steps out of the batter’s box, adjusts his gloves and his helmet before stepping back up to the plate. The thirty-five-year-old veteran right-hander fires a fastball right down the middle for strike two.”

“So far Roberts is looking very comfortable out on the mound.”

“Roberts approves the signal from Soto, winds up and gets Cole with a slider just inside the strike zone. Cole can’t believe it and walks away shaking his head as River Cats first baseman Mario Gonzales makes his way to the plate. Gonzales gets ready and takes the first pitch for a strike.”

“Jack, that looked to me like another slider, low and on the outer edge of the plate.”

“I do believe you’re right, Carl. And Gonzales takes ball one. Man that was barely outside of the strike zone. Here’s pitch number three of the at-bat, a fastball down the middle fouled off by Gonzales. Roberts sets, nods to Soto, and Gonzales makes solid contact and holy mackerel sends it flying right back to Roberts, who ducks then easily reaches up and snags it for out number two of the inning!”

“Jack, I imagine everyone in the Wranglers front office saw that just then and felt a brief moment of panic.”

“Carl, I imagine everyone here at the ballpark and everyone listening on the radio almost had a heart attack when they heard the way that ball came off the bat, and then the gasp from the crowd. Roberts, however, made a heck of a play to grab that as it flew past him, and smiled as he climbed back up on the hill.”

Jenn’s heart was racing. Could she listen to any more of this? She looked down at her thumbnail. Crap. She’d bitten it and three of her other nails on that hand off. Oh, God, this was driving her crazy.

She couldn’t not listen, though, so she left the game on as she tried to do other things, like finalize lesson plans, dust the mini blinds and finally read a book. After browsing through the new releases she finally settled on re-reading an historical romance she’d read a while back and had completely fallen in love with. The hero was a mathematical genius who did the accounting for a gaming hell in London, and the heroine was a geeky science and mathematical genius in her own right—a bluestocking in Regency terms—who decided to explore the darker side of London before settling down to married life. It was fun, sexy, and made her cry just a little bit.

In other words, it was the perfect thing to get her mind off of the baseball game she couldn’t seem to turn off.

As she flipped through virtual pages on her e-reader, she listened to the game with half an ear and her stomach in her throat. She was in the middle of chapter four when they pulled Matt in the top of the fifth inning. He’d given up two hits on forty-six pitches, striking out six batters and showing full command of all of his pitches. Pretty damned good, considering he hadn’t even picked up a baseball in over two months.

She listened to the applause as he left the field, and reached for her phone. She turned the radio feed off—she loved baseball, but her nerves were shot right now—and then texted Matt.