Page 92 of Trip Through Your Wires

“Well….” I take another bite of my sandwich and think as I chew.

A career in baseball wasn’t cut and dry. Just because you were drafted, didn’t mean you made it. If you were lucky, you had ten years, tops, and some of those years were spent in the minors, with no guarantee you would ever play a pro game. Only ten percent of ball players who signed contracts played at least one game in the majors. That was pretty slim margins.

But the Rockies were offering a chance at bypassing years on a farm team and going straight to the majors. That rarely happened. In the history of baseball, only twenty players to date have ever gone straight to the majors. This made having a career to fall back on not only smart, but important.

What the Rockies were proposing would not only fast track Cruz and I to our dream but give us a chance to get our degrees so we would have them to use not if our career ended, but when. It was literally the best scenario.

“I don’t know brother,” I admit. “I love this game, and I have dreamed about the Mets ever since I was a kid.”

Cruz leans forward, pressing both elbows into the table as he dips a curly fry in ketchup and pops it into his mouth. “I hear a but in there.”

“We’d be starting in the majors, man. You know how rare that is. And…” I lean in, unable to deny the excitement of the other part. “We’d be playing together. That would rule, Cabron.”

“I know,” he smiles. “I told Ellery the same thing.”

“You did?” I reach for my drink and take a sip.

He wipes his hands on a napkin and sits back. “Of course.”

“And the Yankees?” I play with my straw.

He shrugs. “Their bullpen is strong. If they did make an offer, and that is a big if, I don’t think I’d see much play time for a while, and honestly man, I’m not sure I want to wait. I’ve got what, five years ahead of me before my arm peaks and the velocity starts to slow down. I’d rather put it to work than wait. I want to play ball, have a good career, then be with my family. I am clearer on that now than I have ever been.”

I tap my fingers on the table, processing what he’s just said. “So are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

He reaches for his sandwich and takes a bite. “I think I am, brother.”

***

“Jakey,” mom says, as I stare down at my plate. “More corned beef?”

“Hmm?” I look up.

“Second helping,” she smiles warmly. “Would you like more?”

“Oh, yeah,” I shake my head and look down, not remembering when I finished my food. “But I can get it.”

I reach for the serving fork laying on the platter in the center of the table and spear another strip of meat, bringing it to my plate, then reach in the bowl next to it, scooping another serving of potatoes. I can’t believe I zoned out like I did. Then again, when you’ve been given an offer that will change your life, it’s probably a normal response.

“Everything okay?” she asks when I take a bite.

“Mm-hmm,” I nod. “Just thinking.”

Mom reaches for her wine and takes a sip. “About?”

When Cruz and I walked into Coach’s office yesterday, he sat us down and cut right to the chase. He’d received offers from the Rockies management and had been asked to present us both with formal offers. We had two weeks to make a decision, and Coach advised us to talk with our families and consult a lawyer before doing so.

“Well….” I set my fork down, deciding there was no time like the present to tell my parents. “I got an offer.”

“An offer?” She shakes her head, not understanding at first, then it dawns on her and she drops her fork. “Oh, an offer. Honey, are you serious?”

“Yup,” I nod and look over at my dad.

He looks at me, unmistakable pride filling his face, then pushes back and stands up. “Son of a bitch,” he laughs and opens his arms. “You did it, son.”

I step into his broad chest and he gives me a hug, clapping me on the back. I may be a big guy, but my dad is, too. It’s funny because we may not share DNA, but we look like we are related, size wise.

“So,” he steps back, gripping my shoulder proudly. “How does it look, and who is it for?”

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