The Bullpen Gospels - Dirk Hayhurst [111]
Juice was named so because he was a big ball of muscles. Since bulging biceps and monster quads were associated with illegal substances, we nicknamed him as such, even though he was as clean as the virgin snow. Minor league coaches and staff are subjected to drug tests just like the players, FYI. Juice spent most of his college years pumping iron and learning about the body. It would only make sense that he was built as his title suggested. However, for such a tough dude, he was a little sensitive, a trait we exploited whenever possible.
Juice obviously liked the girl he was watching. She worked for the Rough Riders, and that’s how he met her. He took her out just a little while ago, and they got their groove on, something Juice didn’t keep to himself. Now seeing her on the field surrounded by minor leaguers made him uncomfortable. He suddenly wished he’d been more discreet.
“Is that your girl over there, Juice?” Blade asked.
“She’s looks like she’s having a lot of fun next to number 24.”
“Yeah, I hear he swings a real big bat.”
“Chicks dig the long ball, Juice. You know that.”
“Shut the fuck up,” Juice growled.
“Oh man, sensitive! Sorry Juice, if you would have told us you were in love, I wouldn’t have brought it up.”
“I’m not in love with her.”
“Then you’d be okay if I asked her out?”
“She’d never go out with you,” Juice said. I forgot to mention, he was a little vain. It’s hard not to be that big and not dig your looks just a tad.
“Wow, dude. I may not look like you, but it looks like she digs guys in jerseys.”
“How many guys on the team do you think she’s been with?”
“That’s enough. Keep running your mouth, and I’ll rip your fucking arms off and beat you with them.”
The guys stopped stretching and stared at Juice. Blade smiled. “Did you just say you’d rip my arms off and beat me with them?”
“Shut up!” an angry Juice warned.
“You did! You did just say that. You seriously said you would rip my arms off and beat me with them. I’ve had a lot of threats in my day, but wow.”
“Juice, she’s got you whipped, bro,” Rob said.
“No, she doesn’t.”
“If you are willing to dismember another dude for her, I’d say you’re whipped.”
“Fuck you, guys. You’re all a bunch of savages anyway.”
“Us? All of a sudden you’re better than us?”
“Heads up!” Another ball came screaming in, and Juice picked it up and fired it back into the fence.
“Jesus bro, fucking relax. We don’t need you going all Hulk smash on anyone.”
“I can’t believe you think you are better than us, Juice. Us—your family,” Blade continued.
“I just don’t need your comments about my girl.”
“We don’t need you getting all pissed at us. You should be tearing off the arms of number 24 over there.”
Juice turned around and stared down the guy lingering in the area of his lady. He wasn’t even talking to her.
“Wow, you are rattled, bro.”
“No, I’m not.”
“I think she’s bad for your career.”
“Just shut up and get on the line. You got half poles today.”
“I don’t think I can do the running today, not in this unsafe work environment.” Rob again.
“Shut up and get on the line.”
“Why? Because if I don’t, you’ll rip my arms off and beat me with them?”
Juice dropped his head and smiled a bit but tried to fight it back in favor of his inner alpha male.
“There he is! There’s happy Juice. Come on out happy Juice; come on back to us!”
Juice smiled and suddenly all was well again. He took a deep breath, and the crowd of pitchers started laughing with him. “Repeat after me, Juice: bros before hos. Say it.” Juice shook his head. “Say it, Juice!”
“Bros before hos,” Juice mouthed.
“That’s more like it. Now that we got that squared away, seriously, can I ask her out?”
Chapter Forty
“Alright, Kangaroo Court is now in session, any fucking swear words from this point on and it’s a buck.” The crowd sat silently, with the oldest guys in the middle acting as judges. Ox,