Night Games (27 page)

“Nah, it was a team effort, Liam. I’m just the one who made an ass out of himself.”

“What are you talking about? That’s going to be remembered as one of the most heroic plays in sports history. People are already talking about you like you’re some kind of legend. The phoenix that rose from the ashes to reclaim the title.”

That makes me smile as he gets through to Terry. I wasn’t expecting that kind of positive spin on it. Maybe it didn’t look as bad as I thought.

I’m not surprised Liam had no problem getting Terry on the line. That man never stops. He never shifts out of business mode. He’ll probably start formulating his plan of attack for next season first thing tomorrow morning. He’s not one to rest on his laurels. I guess the job demands it. The Kings never settle for second best. They’re always looking ahead to the future, and now I might not be a part of it. I could already be a relic of the past.

“Hold on, Terry. Chase? They don’t know where Grey is, but Heimlich’s on it. I’m just going to step outside for a minute and discuss my findings with Terry. I’ll be right back. Sit tight.”

“Don’t want to talk in front of me, Liam? Think it’ll be too upsetting for my delicate little ears?”

“You don’t need to hear this shit repeated over and over. You should be happy right now.”

“Tell Tony to save me a case of champagne. I’m gonna need it.”

Liam shoots me a wry grin before exiting the room.

There’s a lot of commotion outside the door. The press must have gotten wind of me being in here. Liam’s assistant, Wendell, looks freaked. He’s a young kid right out of college. This is all new to him.

“Don’t worry, man. If they get in, they get in. I’m going to have to face them eventually. I can’t hide away forever.” I prop my elbows behind me, bracing myself for the bombardment.

But then I hear a voice I’d know anywhere.

“You gotta let me in there, sir. I have to see him, and I’m not taking no for an answer.”

Grey.

She’s here. She somehow made her way to me. Heimlich couldn’t even track her down in his own stadium. That girl of mine is amazing.

“Hey, Wendell. Go let her in. Sounds like the cop is giving her a hard time. Let’s go easy on him, huh? Before she throttles him.”

Wendell flashes me a grin as he sticks his head out into the fray.

“It’s okay, officer. She’s allowed.”

“You’re damn right I’m allowed.”

Grey shoves her way past the cop, looking flushed and beautiful. Her eyes are open wide and tendrils of hair are falling out of her ponytail, framing her face. Her laptop bag is slung over one arm. She was probably tweeting live during the game for Gayle. Her online persona, The Lady in Waiting, was an instant smash. She even traveled to some of the away games with me during the season to report for the site—undercover of course. Her posts get more hits than some of the regular beat writers for the
Post
and the
Daily News
. If they only knew it was her.

“Oh my God, Chase. Are you okay?” She’s at my side in an instant, caressing my cheek with the back of her hand. “I’m sorry it took me so long to get to you. I was afraid they already took you somewhere, but then I saw Liam out there and I knew you must still be here. They wouldn’t send you anywhere without him.”

I tilt up her chin and capture her lips with mine. I don’t want to talk. I just want her to kiss me.

Wendell, obviously uncomfortable by our display of affection, discreetly slips out of the room to give us some privacy. I hear the ruckus outside before he closes the door, but I barely notice it. I’m too caught up in Grey to pay attention to anything else.

“Don’t change the subject.” Grey pulls away, her lips swollen from what I was doing to them. “How’s your knee?”

“C’mon, I wanna celebrate a little. Can’t you indulge me?” I tease, nuzzling her neck.

“Not until you tell me what’s going on.” She pushes back on my shoulders, dragging my lips away from her. “How could those morons jump all over you like that?”

“They got caught up in the moment. You can’t blame them. I was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. C’mon, Grey. You weren’t a little excited when you saw that we won?”

She bends down to examine my knee, running her fingertips over the surface. I still have the pants to my uniform on with one of the legs cuffed up. Liam wanted to cut away the fabric to relieve the circulation, but I wouldn’t let him. I’m not going to have a chance to get anywhere near my locker, and if they’re going to transport me, at least I can roll it down until we get to the hospital.

“Was I happy that you won? Yes. Was I happy that you were totally hidden from view? No.” She takes my lower leg in her hands, gently moving my knee. She’s been to enough therapy sessions with me to know the drill. “On a scale of one to ten, how bad does it hurt?”

Her brown eyes are penetrating mine. She’ll know if I’m trying to make light of it. “It feels like it did after my first game in Stockton. Achy, tight, inflamed.”

Grey exhales loudly, lowering her head so I can’t read her expression. “What went wrong before they tackled you?”

“The cold, mainly. It locked up. I was trying to keep it warm between innings by going inside the clubhouse, but I had to hit in the bottom of the eighth and then I was on the base for the next three outs since no one was able to drive me in. I didn’t have a chance after that. I had to grab my glove and get right back out there. So that’s what did it.”

“It just sucks. It held up through the entire season, and then you took all of the necessary precautions during the playoffs, even going back on your crutches between games. And to have your teammates take you out—” She swallows a sob, the months of worry caving in on her.

“It was never a hundred percent to begin with. You know that. I worked with what I had.”

“And did a damn good job. Batting .312, 65 RBIs, 15 homers—you came back stronger than ever.”

“And I’ll do it again if I have to.”

“But you heard what Dr. Brownstein said. He somehow patched you together barring another catastrophe. Your knee can only take so much—”

“Let’s just see what the MRI says before we jump to conclusions, all right?”

I don’t mean to snap at her, but I’ve already run through everything she’s saying in my mind. I know this could be it. I could have played my last game at Kings Stadium. I thought I was at this point once before, but this could really be it now. And it terrifies me. Nothing beats going out on top, but I wanted to go out on my terms, not hobble out the door.

Liam comes rushing back in with Wendell. “Chase, we gotta move you now. Do you want to swing your arms around us or do you want to use the wheelchair? It’s up to you.”

“Are we still mobbed with reporters out there?” I ask, listening to the noise outside the door.

“Yeah. I’m afraid there’s even more now. The press conference with Tony just wrapped up so they’ll be heading for the clubhouse. You’re the sound bite everyone wants. Viewers are probably going nuts, wanting to see that you’re all right.”

“You might want to diffuse the situation,” Grey says, looking at me. “You don’t want a stampede following you to the hospital. Everyone’s going to want a piece of you.”

“Honestly, I feel like waiting them out. I’ll sit here all night if I have to.” I cross my arms in front of my chest and Grey rolls her eyes.

“That wouldn’t be wise. Right, Liam?” Grey prompts.

“I wouldn’t recommend it, no. The sooner you get looked at, the better,” Liam concurs as they both stare a hole through me. “I’m not a doctor. And if Terry realizes you’re still here, he’s gonna ream me out for it.”

“See, Chase? Do you wanna get Liam in trouble? Stop being so stubborn,” Grey implores, motioning to Wendell. “Bring the wheelchair around. He won’t get jostled as much and it’ll protect him somewhat.”

Wendell does as instructed, and Liam helps me climb off the table. The next time I enter this clubhouse, I might be just a washed-up ballplayer and no longer an active member of the team. Tony won’t be penciling my name in the number two spot on his lineup card. I don’t want to see it slip away. I can’t let it go. Baseball has been my whole life. I have a better idea of who I am with Grey at my side, but it scares the crap out of me all the same. I’m not as one dimensional as I used to be. But first and foremost, I still consider myself a baseball player. I never thought I’d have to grapple with losing it all so soon. I thought I’d bought myself more time.

I was one out away from having it all before fate laughed in my face.

Epilogue

Grey

After we received the MRI results that had effectively ended his playing career, Chase took the news hard. The following winter was rough. He was despondent and moody a lot of the time, but I knew it would pass. He was in denial, but I knew as soon as he accepted what had happened to him that he’d be able to move on, start anew.

I was determined to cheer Chase up and get him to stop thinking about no longer being a player anymore. We retreated to my trailer, and since there’s nothing much to do in Stockton, we stayed in bed most of the time. One thing led to another, trying new positions to compensate for his knee injury, and lo and behold, I ended up pregnant. It came as somewhat of a shock because we hadn’t even been trying. It just sort of happened.

And the results of the pregnancy stick I held sure brought Chase out his funk.

We had known we’d get married someday, but we had decided not to rush into anything. However, the news of an impending child kind of moved things along. There was no way that Chase’s mom was going to let her grandchild be born out of wedlock. She launched into wedding preparations immediately. If J.J. could get married and start a family, then so could Chase as far as she was concerned.

But neither of us wanted anything big and elaborate. My dad was still mourning my mom and Erin was starting something new with Brody. The glare of the media spotlight had somewhat dimmed, but any whisper of a wedding surely would have stirred things up again. Chase was fine with getting married in Stockton and keeping the setting small and intimate.

We decided on inviting only our closest friends and family to our mountaintop ceremony. Jack agreed to clear more of the land so we could set up tables, chairs, and even a portable dance floor. We got the priest from my church to do the honors, and on a glorious day in June when I was six months pregnant, I became, for better or for worse, Mrs. Chase Whitfield.

I was bulging out of my dress under the white, billowy tent, but I didn’t care. I was really and truly happy. Randy and Jacob, dressed in matching tuxes, helped walk J.J.’s infant son, Jordan, down the aisle carrying the satin pillow containing our rings. And even though my dad tearfully gave me away above the rock where Chase and I first kissed, I still missed my mom more than words could express.

As the summer sun glistened against the crystals on my veil, I fought back tears because I had always imagined having her here with me on my wedding day. I deeply felt the lack of her presence. It was a void that no one was able to fill, even as my dashing groom stared at me in adoration as we exchanged our vows. It was still a bittersweet moment for me because the love I felt in my heart for Chase was tempered by the absence of my mother. I guess it was one of those times in life where, as an adult, a person realizes important days like this are never perfect, but it’s best to celebrate the good in them and not dwell too much on the bad.

And Gayle wouldn’t let me stay down for long. She made me chuckle at every opportunity, reminding me of the many mishaps that had gone into the creation of my gown. Gayle had offered to help take me for fittings since Erin was too busy with the kids. It hadn’t been an easy job since every time I’d visited the exclusive boutique in Manhattan that Chase’s mom recommended they’d had to keep letting out the seams. But Gayle had reminded me they had the privilege of dressing Chase Whitfield’s wife on her big day. She’d let them know that the exclusive wedding portrait would be featured on TheQueenOfDiamonds.com and they would receive full editorial credit for the design, and that kind of silenced their grumblings over my expanding stomach.

Once the season got underway, reality began to seep in. Chase realized that he wasn’t going to play every day, and he didn’t fight it as much. I got him to watch some games on TV. He still kept in touch with Pedro and Scott on a regular basis, and Bruce and Kyle reached out every so often. They let him know what was going on behind the scenes and how guys were holding up.

One afternoon during the All-Star break, Andy and Gayle invited us out for lunch. We were in New York at the time, visiting J.J., so we accepted. My column was still appearing on TheQueenOfDiamonds.com, although not as frequently. I had taken a step back to help Chase stay occupied with all of the downtime he had on his hands. I didn’t want him to dwell too much on the past and what could’ve been.

After lubricating Chase with a scotch on the rocks, Andy proceeded to tell him about how the network was looking for a color commentator, someone who was able to do games mostly on the weekends when viewership was high. The fans were clamoring to see him. They missed turning on their TVs and seeing number three at short.

Chase was reluctant, spouting off a million and one excuses. But after a long talk with Gayle, I knew this would be a good first step for him. He needed to get back out there. No matter if he was able to play or not, he’d always be a member of the Kings. Gayle even conducted an online poll on her site and a whopping ninety-six percent of fans still named him as their favorite all-time player. That seemed to convince him.

He was cagey in the booth, not wanting to reveal too many details about his personal life. Andy bunted some easy questions at him, but he clammed up, and dead time on air is something no one’s tuning in to hear. Once Andy got him talking about the game, he seemed to loosen up, but it was an awkward fit. He never really got into the groove of it.

But Brooks Davison, the player who’d replaced him from Triple A, caught his attention. He started keeping track of his stats, what pitches he could hit, and which ones he was having trouble with. He watched him in the field and how his defense was improving. He had good hands going to his left, and he hung in there on the tough plays. Scott and Kyle were impressed with him, but Chase wouldn’t approach him directly. He didn’t think Brooks would appreciate any constructive criticism coming from him, seeing as how he had been revered at that position and all. He didn’t want to put any more pressure on him.

Chase commuted back and forth to what was now ‘our’ penthouse in New York to complete his stint in the broadcasting booth. I traveled with him up until the end of August, when I’d become as a big as house. The dog days of summer caused my ankles to swell and just made carrying around thirty extra pounds that much harder. At that point, Chase had to put up with me being cranky and miserable, so I think he rather enjoyed his excursions into the city to catch up with his teammates. He always had one of them stay over when he was in town. Not that I didn’t trust him or think that he’d get into any trouble, but he was still adjusting to life after baseball, and being in the city brought it all rushing back. I didn’t want him to be alone if I couldn’t be there to help him through it.

After the season ended and the Kings failed to repeat as champs after falling victim to Boston in the ALCS, Tony Liotta made a phone call to Terry Bloom. He missed Chase’s leadership in the clubhouse, how he motivated the guys and got them to stay focused during a long and arduous season. He didn’t realize how much he had depended on his shortstop to keep things running smoothly until he wasn’t there anymore. He was the first one to admit that he had taken him for granted. He wanted Terry to find some way to entice him back to the team.

And on Christmas morning, Terry called offering Chase the position of first base coach. And it was the first time since he had reinjured his knee that I think he regained his footing. He’ll get to suit up in his number three jersey again and take the field. Sure, he won’t be able to play, but he’ll be right in the thick of things again.

But what I think excited him the most was the chance to mentor Brooks Davison. He can teach him everything he learned, share his wisdom with this young player who rose through the ranks of the organization, just like he did. Last season, he didn’t think it was his place to give him any pointers, but now he is going to badger the heck out of the poor kid. But thankfully, the two of them got along extremely well. Once Chase opened up, Brooks took everything in like a sponge, relishing the one-on-one instruction from a future Hall of Famer.

Pitchers and catchers are reporting for spring training in a couple of days, and Chase wants to be there before they arrive. My mind is in a tizzy.
Where did I put those socks?
I was up all night with little Nan, so she better cooperate so I can get her father all set for his first outing as the Kings’ new first base coach.

I’m running around the house, trying to find something for Chase to wear. But looking at the teething baby on my hip, I can’t help but take a moment to remember the day she entered the world. It makes me smile to know just how far we’ve all come.

***

On the Sunday in September when Nan was born, I was over my dad’s house for a family dinner Erin had prepared. Chase had them promise to keep an eye on me while he was gone since I was so close to my due date. He hadn’t wanted to leave my side, but I’d talked him into it because the Kings were going to honor Kevin Spalding, the left fielder he’d won the World Series with his rookie year and I knew he wouldn’t want to miss it. He hadn’t seen him in years, and I figured it’d be a good way for the two of them to catch up.

But Nan had other plans. She was going to make her arrival difficult on her father. My water broke when I was helping Erin wash dishes at the sink. The boys were playing outside with Brody, and he said he’d put them to bed, hoping to bring them by the next day to see their new cousin. My dad drove Erin and me to the hospital as she frantically called Chase.

The game was over but he was stuck in traffic on his way back. Noah was driving him, of course, and Erin gave him an earful, telling him to ride on the side of the road if he had to. This baby wasn’t being born without her father present.

My contractions were pretty far apart when we got there, and a nurse at the emergency entrance quickly wheeled me into the first available room in the maternity ward. She knew who I was. Everyone in Stockton knew who I was, damn it. But just this once I didn’t feel bad about taking advantage of the special treatment.

Chase kept calling Erin with updates on his expected arrival time, but Noah was only inching him closer. They still were about two hours away. I thought I was going to be in labor all night, so I didn’t panic. First-time deliveries are usually long and drawn out. At least that was what the OB-GYN on call had told me, and Erin seemed to confirm it, since it had taken Randy sixteen hours to enter the world.

But then Nan decided to pick up the pace, and the contractions started coming fast and strong. I’d never felt such excruciating pain in my entire life. It was like I was being ripped open from the inside out. Having a baby wasn’t anything like how it’s portrayed on TV and in the movies—it fucking hurts.

After that, I didn’t know how much time passed or where Chase was. I was fully absorbed in my breathing and trying to find a comfortable position when every time I moved it felt like my lower back was on fire. Erin tried her best, dabbing my face with a wet washcloth and feeding ice chips into my mouth, but I was inconsolable. I didn’t have my regular doctor. I didn’t have my mother. I didn’t have my husband. All I wanted was Chase, but he wasn’t there.

I was just about fully dilated when the nurse brought the doctor back into the room, urging me to push. This was it, and Chase was going to miss it. I couldn’t stop our daughter. She wanted out. Straining with everything I had, I felt beads of sweat drip down the back of my hospital gown. I thought the blood vessels in my forehead were going to burst from the exertion. The doctor cheered me on from behind his face mask. Yeah, what do men know? There was no way in hell I was doing that again. It was like I was being split in two.

And just when I was ready to give up, Chase raced into the room, out of breath, his sneakers squeaking across the floor. Since on camera he was only seen above the waist, he had on jeans and Nikes accompanied by a white button-down shirt and suit jacket. It was a weird mishmash, like he just stepped out of an episode of a 1980s sitcom. His tie was hanging loosely around his neck, so he must have been fidgeting with it in the car. Even so, I wanted to strangle him with it for putting me in this predicament.

When he got a good look at what was going on in front of him, he turned as white as a ghost, probably shocked by what was going on between my legs.
Good. Serves him right,
I thought.
Let him see what he’s been missing.
Childbirth isn’t pretty. He had a hand in this too. I wouldn’t have been in this position if it weren’t for him.

“How nice of you to join us, Mr. Whitfield,” the doctor remarked casually. “Did the Kings win?”

“Yeah, five to three,” Chase responded automatically.

“Excellent. Okay, Grey. I’m going to need you to push again for me,” the doctor urged. “The head’s about to crown.”

I have to admit that I didn’t handle my daughter’s entrance into the world very well. A string of profanities flew out of my mouth at the doctor’s request. I cussed him out and then I started in on Chase. If I remember correctly, he shrank into the corner as I called him every name in the book. Erin tried to quiet me, but I wasn’t having any of it. I took everything out on him—my pain, my fear, my disappointment.

The doctor had the nerve to laugh, like the intensity of my reaction was nothing new to him. Like he’d seen it all before. Instead, he kept telling me to push and be a brave girl. I wanted to kick him in the teeth, but I couldn’t feel my legs.

With one last-ditch effort, I clenched my jaw and felt Nan slide out of me. Within seconds, she started crying, and the nurse and Erin began to cheer. Chase was too afraid to approach the bed, so Erin had to drag him over to cut the cord. It was only when they placed Nan in my arms that I began to simmer down.

“I’m so sorry, Grey. I shouldn’t have—”

“Chase, enough. You’re here now. That’s all that matters. Just don’t think we’re naming her after one of the Kings. Kyla isn’t happening.”

“I know we promised not to think of a name for her until we saw her, but I think we should name her after your mother.”