Page 62 of Trip Through Your Wires

Shit, this is why he called us in here. One of us is being drafted and the other is not. It’s the kind of news that could strain even the best of friends, no matter how happy one is for the other.

“Yup,” he nods. “Only, not as you think. It’s not an offer for one of you, but both.”

Cruz leans in as if he didn’t hear what Coach just said. “I’m sorry, can you repeat that?”

Coach draws in a deep breath and then drops his hands, resting his forearms on the desk. “Last summer, the owners in MLB unanimously voted to approve the addition of two new franchises to the league.”

“The expansion,” I nod. “Denver and Florida.”

“Um-hmm,” he nods. “Marlins and Rockies.”

“What’s that got to do with us?” Cruz asks.

“Well,” Coach looks at him, then me. “You two are being eyed as a pitcher/catcher combo for the Rockies debut season.”

“What?” We say at the same time, both sitting up straight.

“Are you serious?” Cruz asks the question I was just about to.

“Serious as a heart attack,” Coach nods. “In November, there is going to be an expansion draft in New York for both teams to build out their rosters in advance of the ’93 season, and Rockies would like to include not one but both of you in it.”

Cruz and I look at one another in stunned silence. I know what he’s thinking because I’m thinking it, too.

We’ve both had the same dream to play in the big leagues. He on the mound at Yankee Stadium, and me, behind home plate at Shea catching for the Mets. Neither of us doubted we would achieve those dreams. But neither of us thought for a second we’d achieve them together, on the same team. It’s the whole reason we went to Cherry Cove last summer. One last hurrah before we started what we thought would be our last year at Highland. To think it may not be the end of something, but a beginning, is mind-blowing.

“Isn’t that unheard of?” I manage to ask. “A pitcher and catcher being recruited as a package deal?”

“Well, yeah,” Coach nods, “it is. At the same time, it is not completely unheard of for scouts to be interested in teammates.”

“But a pitcher/catcher duo?” Cruz repeats my question, emphasizing its importance.

There was a bond between pitchers and catchers. One that could be tight or tenuous. But it was one of the most important connections on the field and was not to be taken lightly. It’s why catchers and pitchers reported to spring training first. Catchers needed to be leaders, and pitchers drivers. A dynamic of talent and ego that could be explosive, but with the right chemistry, electric.

I knew the connection that Cruz and I had went beyond baseball. Sure, I had a friendship with each of the guys in the bullpen—a good catcher didn’t align himself with one, but built and nurtured relationships with all—but Cruz and I knew there was something special about our duo, and it wasn’t just because we’d gone to hell and back last summer.

When Cruz was on the mound, and I was behind home plate, the game felt different. I knew what pitches to call based on how he was throwing during warmup, and he never made me chase shit out of the dirt. Truthfully, I hadn’t loved the game or had as much fun as I did these past two years playing ball with him.

Maybe the scouts for the Rockies saw this. Maybe they saw something special in our dynamic that they felt could help them have a headline-grabbing first season. Still, it was unheard of for a pitcher and catcher to get recruited together because of the very reasons that made them important.

Whereas a catcher led and rallied the team, a pitcher carried the weight of the game on his shoulders. Their comfort on the mound was paramount. When Cruz was having a bad day, I knew how to pull him out of it. He performed best when I was behind home plate and we both knew it. He knew my bad days, and I knew his, and when the synergy was there, it was off the charts.

“Yeah,” Coach admits, “it’s a once in a lifetime request, no doubt about it. But it probably has something to do with the fact you two are the best catcher/pitcher duo in D1 and will no doubt help bring attention to their first year in MLB.”

“So it’s a PR stunt?” I arch a brow.

“The draft is becoming that way overall,” he nods. “All that fanfare about which team picked up which players and how much they paid. But this offer doesn’t appear to be about the headlines considering they want to add you to their team, not the farm division.”

“Wait.” I hold up my hand, this time I am the one leaning in wanting him to repeat what he just said. “Straight to the majors? No stopping in double or triple A?”

Most baseball players spendfour to five years in the minor leagues before making it the big leagues. It varies of course, with some called up earlier, and some playing for as many as ten years in the farm division. In some cases, players never make it to The Show at all.

“That’s why they asked me to talk with you. It’s a ticket straight to the majors. You would finish this season with Highland, then head to Tucson next February for the club’s first spring training.”

“And school?” I ask, curious what that would mean for the fall.

“The university will help make sure your requirements are completed between summer school and a full load next semester so that you can graduate with your classmates next spring. Schedule permitting, of course.”

“So let me get this straight,” Cruz says in disbelief. “With this offer, we get to finish this season, get our degrees, and play in the majors next year?”

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