Page 41 of Curveball

“I will. Thank you.”

I turn to Layton and open the door wider. “Please,come in before my eighty-year-old neighbor talks us into her bedroom.”

He lets out a loud laugh before looking at my bare chest. “Am I…interrupting you? I can come back another time if you have company.”

I shake my head. “Not at all. I’m just unpacking. It was hot.”

I wave him inside and he walks through the door. Looking around, he whistles, “This place is great.” He points at my severely oversized television. “And that’s fucking awesome.”

I nod. “I’m a big sports fan. I love basketball and football. I like to watch it on a big screen.”

“Nice. Me too. I’ll watch with you sometime.” He sits on my new sofa and makes himself comfortable like we’re old friends. “If you want to work out together, I usually go over to the stadium in the early mornings. The young guys go later in the day, but my old ass likes the quiet of the morning.”

I smile. “So do I. I guess it’s part of aging. I can’t sleep in anymore and I’d rather get my workout in before I start my day. There seems to be a mix of old and young guys on this team. The Hurricanes were so young. I had a hard time keeping up with their late-night antics. The club scene is getting old.”

He chuckles. “I hear you. Trust me, I hear you. The young guys on this team hit the clubs until all hours. Us oldies keep it low-key at a local sports bar. The owner saves a private booth for us to kick back. I’m meeting Trey, Cheetah, and Ezra there tonight. You should join us. We’re the unofficial oldie Cougars club.”

I know all those names. Trey DePaul is the Cougars third baseman. He started his career in New York. I don’tremember the exact circumstances, but I remember there was some crazy spectacle over him being traded from New York to Philly a few years ago. It was all over the news at the time.

Cheetah is the nickname for Cruz Gonzales. He’s the centerfielder and widely considered the fastest player in the sport, hence the nickname, Cheetah. That leaves Ezra Decker, the longtime Cougars second baseman. He’s a solid player. They’re all over thirty years old. It’s truly nice to have a group like this. I’m feeling very fortunate and very excited for this new opportunity.

“Thanks, man. That sounds fun. I’d love to.”

Layton hangs around most of the day. He’s an awesome guy, and it’s really nice of him to befriend and welcome me.

At the allotted time, I take an Uber to a place called Screwballs. What a great name for a sports bar.

When I walk in, I see the four of them sitting in a corner booth that appears to be roped off from the rest of the patrons.

Layton immediately smiles when he sees me and motions for me to join them, which I do. After shaking all their hands, I decide to bring my family and teammate tradition to this team. It’s always been a bonding activity.

“Are you guys game for something a little different?”

They all nod.

“My father loses track of time like no one I’ve ever met. He’s a carpenter, and once he’s in his shop, hours go by and he’s clueless. When I was growing up, he was always late for everything, including dinner. Fearing my sister and I would turn into him, my mother started this game which I’ve brought to all the teams I’ve ever been on. Whoever is last to arrive has to offer up arandom fact. It’s just a small incentive to be on time and, frankly, you learn a lot from it. It’s kind of fun and always a conversation starter. It keeps you on your toes.”

Layton looks confused. “Like what?”

“I was last to arrive tonight, so I have to give you all some obscure fact. Let me think for a moment. Hmm. Baby elephants suck their trunks for comfort. It’s like thumb-sucking to them.”

Cheetah scoffs. “If I could suck my owntrunk, I’d never leave the house.”

We all laugh. I nod. “I think we all can agree with that statement.”

Layton asks, “Do you research this stuff? Give us another example.”

“I always have a bunch on hand at any moment just in case. You guys will like this one. A hippo’s jaw opens wide enough to fit a sports car inside.”

They all start playing with their jaws, as do most people when I give them that random fact.

Cheetah wiggles his. “I knew a girl like that once. Her name was Carissa.” He shivers. “Hmm. She could open that mouth so damn wide.”

Layton nods. “I remember her. That’s the girl who we—”

Cheetah interrupts, “That’s her.”

I look at them in question and Layton shrugs. “Sometimes Cheetah and I share women. Or watch each other with women. We have similar tastes.”

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