Page 117 of The Future Play

“I just don’t want to lose what I’ve worked for. I don’t want to be the butt of the joke. The guy who couldn’t hack it in the majors.” I meet her eyes, trying to lighten the mood. “And end up podcasting from my parents’ basement.”

She smiles softly, but there’s an edge of sympathy there that I hate.

“That was never your fate. Let yourself adjust. By the way, have you eaten breakfast? You seem like you’ve been eating less lately, and I’m not sure I can keep living with you if you start meticulously counting calories.”

“Thanks. Glad to know what your deal breaker is.”

She gives me a sweet smile. “Food is one of the best parts of life. I won’t apologize for that.”

“And you never have to,” I remind her. I hate that she ever feels poorly about her body. “Don’t worry. I had a protein shake earlier and I’ll grab something else in a bit.”

She eyes me with that mama bear concern, but lets it go. “Okay.”

I turn back to the fridge and get her a glass of orange juice.

She smiles up at me when I slide it in front of her, and for a moment, I feel a shred of peace and normalcy. This is how things used to be. It’s how I want them to be again. I just need to get my head out of my ass and get through this rough transition.

My stomach burnsas I walk toward Marc’s office. I’m not great at asking for help, or even admitting I need it. I neverrealized how easy Aaron made things on me by always noticing there was a problem and calling me on it.

When I get to Marc’s door, I hear laughter from within, and I second-guess knocking. But the door is cracked, and Corey Matthews, who is lounging in a chair by the desk spots me instantly.

“Hey, rookie. Need something?”

“Uh, I can… come back.”

My stupid cheeks burn, but Marc appears at the door with a look of mild concern on his face.

“Everything okay?”

“Yeah, I just wanted to talk with you about—do you think there’s anything I can be doing differently? Working on?” I’ve never had to ask that question. Aaron always said I was great at taking direction, but he also gave me direction constantly.

I suddenly feel very coddled.

Marc gestures for me to come into his office, then gives Corey a look likeget out, but he doesn’t move. The privileges of being the pitching coach’s chosen family. But then that makes me think of the vibe between Aaron and me, and it gives me a shred of hope that maybe this is the right call.

I need to get over myself and admit I need help if I want to fix things.

“I don’t feel like I’m hitting my stride the way I want to, and I’m curious if you’ve seen anything I can work on.”

Marc looks at me. “I’ve made a few little notes, but you’re still new. Still settling in. We’ve played against some hard teams with great hitters. I don’t think there’s anything you’re doing wrong. We can make some tweaks to what you’re working on, but you know how much of this game is mental, and all the training in the world won’t help with that. If you think that’s a part of it, consider going to see the sports psychologist for the team.”

I blow out a long breath. Psychologist? I guess it’s an option, but I’ve always been able to get myself through these things before.

“What did you used to do?” Corey asks.

“What do you mean?”

“If you had rough patches or losing streaks, what did you do?”

“Usually, I’d get together with my friends—the guys I came up with, especially Aaron—and play. We’d have fun, and they’d help me out. But I’ve also never had a losing streak like this before.”

Corey sighs and mutters something under his breath. “Look, I think you’re doing fine for a rookie. Plus, you don’t need to worry about being the star while they still have me.”

“You can get out of my office any time,” Marc says to him. Then he looks at me. “Take it one game at a time. Let’s see how you do today, okay?”

I give a quick nod. “Yeah. Thanks.”

His words run through my mind as I walk out of the room.

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