The Bullpen Gospels - Dirk Hayhurst [41]
“Son of a bitch,” I said.
“You’re alright,” Bruce said. I sighed. He probably wanted to reprimand me about not staining my jock so bad. It wasn’t my fault, I’d been sick.
“Have you seen Larry?”
I thought about not answering. It didn’t matter; they’d find him eventually.
“Did you check the training room?”
“Yeah, he’s not there.”
“Did you check the lunchroom?”
“Not there either.”
“Well, then he’s probably taking a dump. Check the bathroom. Though I suggest you wait for your own good.”
Bruce left.
Larry was gone, just like that. I didn’t pursue Larry. There was no way to stop what was in motion. So after changing, I hit the cafeteria, finding a seat with Brent and Frenchy. After a few moments of silence, Brent asked in a whisper, “Did you hear they released Varner?”
“Varner? Varner? That’s ridiculous. He was doing great. He’s had nothing but success. Why?”
“I don’t know. I think it’s because he had that positive drug test.”
“Yeah, but you know he wasn’t doing anything. I mean, look at the kid. He’s not exactly the model of fitness,” I said. Varner was a stocky reliever, known for his in-season diet of Doritos and Mountain Dew. He was a member of the notorious “Bad Body Bullpen,” a group of very successful relievers who had a “little more” to love.
Varner got popped for banned substances last year, though he looked no different. In fact, he may have put on weight. “He probably took some shady product that lied about its ingredients. It happens more than people think.”
“Doesn’t matter. It’s about the image that comes with it. People think steroids, which might as well be pedophile as soon as it’s tagged to your name. No one thinks honest mistake,” Frenchy said.
“I suppose, but wow, I did not see that one coming. And, if you didn’t know, they just released Larry too.”
“Larry, huh? Well, I hate to say it, but that one makes sense to me,” Brent said.
“Yeah, me too.” I exhaled deeply. “Even Larry felt like it was coming. Still, it sucks. He was my roommate.”
“Sorry, bro.”
“What can you do? I mean, it’s part of the game….” I attempted to rationalize it to myself, but it didn’t feel any better.
“He was too injury prone.”
“I know, and they seem to be weeding out guys who have injuries.”
“Makes me wonder what kind of injuries you’re allowed to have.” Brent had torn a muscle in his foot last year and missed a large chunk of time.
“Well, judging on how the guys with any type of arm trouble are dropping like flies around here, I’d say the one kind of injury you can’t have has to do with the arm.”
“Unless you’re a big money pick. If they have a lot invested in you, then you get some grace.”
“It’s funny, but it’s a lot like who has the big stack at a poker table, isn’t it?” I asked.
Frenchy chimed in, “I think they are going to cut more guys tonight too.”
“Really?” I thought I’d dodged the bullet.
“Yeah, I heard some guys talking about how they can’t cut everyone in the same day because of the way it would mess up the on-field rotations.” That’s true, they’d need bodies to fill positions, if even for just one more day.
“You guys know everything, regular pipelines of information. Have you bugged the coaches’ locker room?”
“Think about it. It makes sense.” Unfortunately, it did. I was supposed to pitch today.
“Can you imagine knowing you’re going to stick around for one day just so you can take up a field spot while someone else gets work in?” Brent asked.
“I’d be pissed. I’d want to know I wasn’t wanted as soon as they decided on it,” Frenchy affirmed.
I said nothing.
There was no sure way to tell why anyone got released. Some things played bigger parts in the process than others, but any of us could go at any time. Though some players are safer than others, this wasn’t like Survivor Peoria. There’s no immunity,