Third Base (The Boys of Summer, #1)(38)
I step onto the treadmill, put my ear buds in and push the speed button until I’m in a steady run. My heavy metal playlist blasts into my ears, blocking out my thoughts of Daisy and the f*cked up conversation we just had. Our weight room looks out over the field, reminding us why we’re busting our asses in here – so we can bust our asses out there for the fans, the town and our team.
The grounds crew is out, mowing and fixing minute holes in the dirt infield. When I was in college, I followed the grounds crew around to see how they did everything. It fascinated me and I thought if I couldn’t make it in baseball I get a degree doing that instead. This way I’d still be with a team, in a stadium and part of the atmosphere. My advisor thought I was stupid for thinking about it and talked me out of it. I ended up with the standard communications degree, guaranteeing me a telecasting job when I retire or become washed up.
Still, watching these guys out there, lying on the ground making sure each blade of grass is the same length, making sure the Renegades pattern is perfect and brushing the dirt in the proper direction amazes me. Everyone who works for a baseball club takes their job seriously, from concession stands, to souvenirs, to laundry. It’s a high-end operation here and if there’s ever any trouble, we never hear about it.
The treadmill next to me starts up. I glance over to find Bainbridge starting a slow jog. I push the button to slow down and pull out my ear buds, but leave the music playing. As far as I’m concerned, he’s my mentor and I feel like a shit for bothering him with the bullshit weighing on my mind, but I need help.
“Can I ask you a question?”
“Sure, what’s up?”
“So you know how I have an issue with that blog?” he nods, so I keep going. “Well, I’ve been seeing this girl and I’ve asked her not to look at it.”
“Why?” he asks, without breaking stride.
“Our second date, or meeting, she brought up something about rumors she’d heard and I told her that not everything she reads online is legit and that if she had questions, she should ask. Then, somehow, the blog came up in a conversation and I asked her not to look at that shit. Today, when I surprised her at school, she was looking at the website and when I asked her about it, she flipped out on me.”
Bainbridge sighs and I have a feeling I hit a sore subject. “I don’t blame you, but that shit is addictive to them. Lisa has emailed that blogger before about crap in our marriage even though I’ve asked her not to. Whatever happens in our house needs to stay there; she knows that, but she loves the attention.”
“Daisy says all journalists support freedom of speech.”
“The first part of the blog is great. I enjoy his critique of the game. He’s a real fan. The gossip part though – that shit has no place in baseball and takes away from the point of the blog, at least that’s how I feel.”
We continue to jog for a few minutes without talking. A few of the other guys come in and out of the gym, but lift weights or hit the massage room, leaving us alone.
“I think that whatever was going on with Daisy is effectively over.” Saying that out loud actually hurts. I really like her, but need to have her respect in regard to something as simple as not indulging in a blog she knows pisses me off. It all seems so petty now that I think about it, but I can’t help how I feel.
“You’re too young to be tied down, Davenport.”
Bainbridge steps off the treadmill and presses stop. He looks at me, pain masking his features. I stop running so I can give him my undivided attention.
“Lisa was a fan. I hit her with a foul ball in college. I felt bad and took her out to dinner and we hit it off. But she’s insecure and freaks out if I don’t answer when she calls or I don’t call her right back. Anything longer than five minutes and I’m screwing the secretary, the cashier or the waitress. God forbid I get up in the middle of dinner and take a shit because she accuses me of texting my girlfriend or looking at porn. If I try to make love to her, she’s accusing me of trying to appease her because I’m having an affair. Frankly, I can’t handle my wife, let alone a girlfriend.
“She wants to move home, back to Indiana – I don’t blame her. She’s alienated herself from the other wives and girlfriends, but I’m not ready to give up on my time here in Boston. I love it here. I love the team. I hear the rumors about Cooper Bailey and they scare the shit out of me. He’s young, has fresh legs and a killer arm. But I’m not ready to quit.”
He wraps his towel around his neck and shuts off his machine. “If I were you, I’d forget the girl. You’re young and chicks are eager to get to know you. If I could do it all over again, I wouldn’t have had a girlfriend when I started playing in the majors. The only things I don’t regret are my kids – the rest I could honestly live without.”
Bainbridge walks off, leaving me stunned. He doesn’t open up much, but when he does he pours it all out. I’ve always asked him for advice, but to hear him say that he wished he never married his wife is a bit of a shock. Now I know why he’s never introduced us, and why he either shows up to events solo or cancels.
I feel like my pleas have fallen on deaf ears!
After dropping three to the Yankees, the Renegades could only pull out one win with the Devil Rays. One would think that playing in Boston, the Renegades would have the advantage over a team who plays in the tropics. Apparently, one shouldn’t assume.