The Bullpen Gospels - Dirk Hayhurst [82]
“Exactly. I could have dropped dead right then and there,” Rosco said.
“Wow! You guys got took by a retarded kid,” Pickles blurted.
“Man,” Rosco corrected.
“Good, I’m glad you got took. Serves you guys right,” I said, my arms crossed like a nun.
“Why are you so offended? I thought you’d be inspired! There’s hope for you!”
“Hope that you guys will pitch in and buy me a hooker?”
“I just had a great idea guys!” Slappy declared. He got up, walked behind me, and placed his hands on my shoulders. “I know a great cause we could use our quarter toss money for!”
Chapter Twenty-five
The bus home from Modesto was very much like the bus to it. We arrived early, near the crack of dawn, with a game looming hours away. I went home to my borrowed bed, slept late, went to stretch, and spent another night in the bullpen. The following day brought another game, then another, and another, and so on. Soon the days and nights began to blur together. Sometimes I pitched.
When I did take the mound, I did great. I didn’t change my style and it wasn’t always amazing, but I was successful. I was confident. I didn’t worry about what happened once I let go of the ball. I didn’t see the Baseball Reaper anymore, and I didn’t fight myself. I was pitching the best I ever had in my four tours of the Cal League—far too well for any defeatist thoughts. The team was great, funny, entertaining. My host family was fantastic. I began to feel like a superhero again, as if I could do great things through my success.
On the top of that list of deeds was swooping into my parents’ house. During this visit I imagined they would all be happy to see me. No one would be fighting or drinking or crying. We’d all talk about baseball and about how great it was that I was in the big leagues. I’d turn out my pockets, flush with cash, and we’d go out and get a new car and a new house and a new life. It was a good dream. Hell, I’d even buy grandma a new washing machine.
One night, on an off day, I lay in bed thinking about that beautiful vision and the time line I was on to make it come true. I needed to move forward, and I began to wonder if I would or if I was too stale a product in the eyes of the Brass to escape from A-ball. Then, my cell phone rang. The Lake Elsinore trainer was calling.
“Hey Will, how’s it going?” I asked.
“Hey Dirk, I’ve got some news for you.”
I thought about the last trainer who called me with news. “Am I going to like this news?”
“You should, you’re heading up to Double-A. Congratulations! You earned it. Your flight leaves tomorrow, so you need to come in and get your bags and your medical folder.”
“Wait. What?”
“Yeah, I know it’s sudden, but you know how it is. The team’s in Corpus Christi right now, part of an eight-day road trip. I’ll give you the rest of the details when you pick up your stuff. I’ll meet you at the field.”
“Holy shit. What time?” I sprung out of bed.
“In an hour. Can you make it?”
“I’ll be there.”
“Cool, see you then, and congratulations.”
And as I closed the cell phone, I also closed my time in A-ball. In a matter of eight hours, I would be gone. I would disappear from Lake Elsinore, leaving all my friends behind without so much as a good-bye. I thanked my host family, packed my bags, and caught a plane early in the morning to a new team in a new town with a whole new set of circumstances.
Chapter Twenty-six
In the cab, riding from the airport to the field in Corpus Christi I decided to call my parents and tell them the good news—the first call home I made since my assignment to Lake Elsinore. Like any job, getting promoted is a good excuse to call family and boast. I was excited.
I rang the newly replaced house phone. My dad, much to my surprise, picked up with a tired “Ya?”
“Hey, Dad.”
“Hey.”
“How’s it goin’?”
“It’s goin’.”
“Is Mom around?”
“Who knows.”
“Well, I got some good news. I got called back up to Double-A.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Yeah, I’m on my way there now. Good news, huh?”
“I thought you were gonna quit,” he said, in a queer, almost disappointed