Page 17 of The Trouble with Players

We unpacked the chairs from her trunk then walked the short distance to the entry. Most people who didn’t know the area probably wouldn’t have even known the field was behind a set of buildings on the main road. There was no big sign, and certainly no grandstand—just a few bleachers on both sides and lots of grassy areas to sit. Even though some of the guys would be going pro, they weren’t there yet, which made the draw for games rather lackluster—but free. They’d get their day, my dad always said. He’d know. He played for almost eighteen years in the big leagues after starting right here in the Cape League where he’d met my mom—a local girl—and then had me. The thought of how happy they must’ve been when they first met roiled my stomach. The future must have looked so bright for my mom who’d grown up in this small town. Funny how things had a way of changing.

“Hi, Stu,” I said as we reached the gate.

“Look at you all grown up,” the old greeter gushed.

“It happens to us all,” I said.

“No lie,” he agreed. “I hear Crew Burke’s living with you this summer.”

“So it seems.”

“The guy’s a beast,” he said as he stepped aside so we could enter.

“That’s one word for him,” I mumbled as I followed Gina to a spot in the host family section. I opened both of our chairs while she was busy looking for Cody on the field.

“Peyton!” someone shouted.

I spun around to find Sam on the field leaning against the fence. His uniform fit him well. The short sleeves on his red shirt showed off his impressive biceps. “Hey.”

He smiled. “Glad you came.”

“Whoa,” I said. “We didn’t get that far, buddy.”

He laughed. “Did you really just say that?”

“She did,” Gina interrupted, never surprised by anything that left my lips.

“Enjoy the game,” he said.

“I will now that we got a good view of right field and nowhere near that reprehensible shortstop.” I shivered at the thought.

“Do you even know who our shortstop is?” he asked.

I shook my head.

He laughed as he walked away and tossed the ball to one of his teammates.

“He’s really cute,” Gina said. “And he likes you.”

“He’s all right.”

“Might you break your no-dating-baseball-players rule for him?” she asked.

“Nope.”

Once we secured our spot on the hill, we grabbed a hot dog and a drink from the concession stand. From there, we watched a local girl sing the national anthem as the players and fans stood facing the flag in centerfield.

Gina and I returned to our chairs as the first pitch was thrown. I scanned the field for familiar faces. I spotted Sam in right field, and Gina pointed out Cody behind the plate in catcher’s gear. I scoffed once I saw the shortstop.

Of course, it was Crew.

I didn’t recognize the pitcher, but the announcer said that he stood at six five and attended the University of Tennessee. He struck out the first three batters, and the Sharks jogged off the field. I tried not to look at Crew—since every other fan seemed to be, but he was like a magnet drawing me in. He filled out his uniform like a major leaguer, and the ball cap pulled down to his eyes gave the impression that he was focused on nothing but the game.

At the bottom of the first inning, Cody walked up to the plate as their leadoff batter. He was introduced as attending the University of Kansas. Gina tried not to act too excited, just clapping from her chair, but I knew she was bursting to jump to her feet—especially when he hit a single to left field. The next batter attended the University of Texas and hit into a double play causing the fans around us to groan as he and Cody were called out and jogged off the field. The third batter stepped up to the plate. As soon as his name was announced, the fans roared—scratch that. The female fans roared. “Crew Burke from the University of Alabama.”

My stomach dropped.

Gina’s mouth formed an O. “He goes to your school?”

---