Sweet Spot: Homeruns #4 (7 page)

I
wasn’t
ready to head back to the hotel after my talk with Cody. I hadn’t been prepared for the emotional roller coaster I’d been riding since stepping foot on the bus earlier in the morning, and I really wasn’t in the mood to put up with any of Mark’s shit. Then again, it might’ve been a smarter choice to head back to the hotel in hopes that he’d already gone out for the night. I blamed the sleep deprivation caused by having a piece of shit roommate for thinking it was a good idea to pull out my cell phone.

“I was beginning to wonder if and when you’d call me,” my dad answered the phone on the second ring. While we had a pretty good relationship during the off-season, the moment I walked out the front door to leave for spring training, I’d essentially cut him out of my life. I hurt him, but I’d been holding on to this foolish notion I had to distance myself from him or people would assume I was trying to somehow influence my placement at the end of spring training.

“Yeah, sorry about that,” I apologized. “I was actually wondering if you had plans for dinner tonight.”

“I do, but it’s nothing I can’t postpone.” As he spoke, I could hear him tapping away at the keys on his laptop, likely already emailing his assistant to make the necessary adjustments to his schedule.

“No, it’s cool. I know you have other things to do,” I told him. “We can go out another night.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Dad scolded me. “I’ve barely seen you over the past few weeks. It’ll be good to sit down and catch up. If you want, grab a change of clothes and you can crash here tonight.”

The off-handed comment made me wonder if this was why Dad hadn’t intervened when the room assignments had been set. He had to have known how much it was going to fuck with my head to be strapped with someone like Mark Butler. But I wasn’t going to take him up on the offer, because there were rules in place for all minor league players and I had to be held to the same standards.

“Thanks, but dinner’s fine,” I told him. “I just need to head back to the hotel so I can get changed.”

“Sounds good,” Dad responded. “I’ll pick you up out front in about an hour. I’ll call when I’m close.”

Shit. I hadn’t planned this out well at all. I didn’t want anyone to see him pulling up in front of the hotel and me getting into his car. “You don’t have to go out of your way. I can take a cab over there once I’m ready.”

“Nicholas…” I stiffened at the stern tone in his voice. It was the one that warned me he was about to give me a piece of his mind. “There’s no reason for you to take a taxi anywhere. I know what you’re worried about, but you have to let it go. I’ve let you hide away for four years, keeping track of how you’re doing through the reports on my desk every week, but that needs to stop. Everyone within the organization knows you’re my son, and you trying to ignore our relationship is only drawing more attention to the situation. I would’ve thought you’d gotten over your issues after the last two years. You’re doing really well, and everyone’s been pleased with your progress so far this year. What are you going to do if you get called up at some point? Are you going to avoid your mother and sister because you don’t want anyone to see you driving to the house? It’s ridiculous.”

“You’re right,” I agreed, my voice so timid I barely recognized it.

“I know I am.” He chuckled. “Now, get changed and meet me out front. No arguments.”

We hung up as the elevator doors opened. Dad had said what he’d wanted to say; now it was time for me to think about his words. That was his way. He knew I’d tune out if we kept arguing about it, so he spoke his mind and walked away. No doubt we’d continue the conversation later. The question was, was I ready to listen to him and stop making an issue of my parentage? He was right—other than a few random comments, no one seemed to think about it when I was out on the mound as long as I was putting in the same amount of work as everyone else.

When I stepped off the elevator into the lobby a short while later, I took a look to see who might be hanging around. There was no one. Dad was right. Somewhere along the road, my insecurity morphed into paranoia, and I’d come close to letting it destroy my relationship with my parents. Hell, I’d almost let it destroy everything. I had no clue how I was going to do it, but it was time I took Dad’s advice and quit worrying about everyone connecting my career to his.

“You look good,” Dad greeted me as I slid into the passenger’s seat of his Saab.

“Thanks.” For the second time in a day, I wasn’t sure what to say. I owed him as much of an apology as I’d owed Cody, but with my family, I was struggling to figure out what it was I needed to apologize for.

Dad drove us to a small steakhouse outside of town, where we were promptly led to a table in the back of the dining room. I looked over the menu, debating how much I could order without seeming like a complete pig. Then again, Dad had been in my shoes years ago, so he probably wouldn’t think twice if I ordered one of everything on the menu. As all of these thoughts raced through my mind, I remembered Cody’s diatribe earlier about how my dad understood what it was like to be in the minors and was trying to make it a better place in whatever way he could. I wondered if that was actually true, because we sure as hell hadn’t seen any results in our locker room or paychecks.

The silence between us was uncomfortable once the waiter had taken our orders. I could tell Dad was trying to give me the opportunity to tell him what’d sparked tonight’s phone call. That was the question I’d love an answer to as well, because now that we were here I had nothing to say. Well, that wasn’t true, but I still wasn’t sure it was a good idea to say the words lingering on the tip of my tongue.

“You seem to have a lot on your mind tonight,” Dad observed before taking a sip off his scotch. “Is everything going okay so far? From what I’ve heard you’re doing well, but now that you’re sitting there so quietly, I’ll admit I’m worried.”

“No, Dad, it’s going fine,” I assured him. Because it was, for the most part. Yeah, I wasn’t thrilled that I still hadn’t figured out who I could blow to get an invitation to work out with the big league squad, but I was trying to not let my placement piss me off.

“Good. I know you don’t like hearing anything I have to say during the year, but I’m proud of you.” I didn’t realize how badly I’d wanted to hear those words from him. I’d let myself believe he couldn’t be both a supportive parent and my boss, and that’d left me very isolated and alone. Lonely. “You’ve grown so much over the past few seasons, and I can’t wait for what’s still to come. And for what it’s worth, I’m speaking as your father, not the GM. I really wish you’d believe I do know how to be both to you.”

“Dad, we’ve been over this before,” I reminded him. “It’s not so much not believing you can keep the two roles separate, but I don’t want anyone attacking you if I fail.”

“You won’t,” he insisted. “I’ve seen more than you might realize, and if there’s one thing I know, it’s that you’re a damn good pitcher. I don’t want to get ahead of myself, but I have to tell you that if you keep working as hard as you have been and listen to the coaches, there’s a good chance a few years from now the analysts will be comparing you to Sean.”

Now he was treading on dangerous ground. “Don’t say shit like that.”

“Why not? It’s the truth.” He leaned back in his seat and swirled the amber liquid in his glass. “I’m hoping you’ll still be with the team when it happens, but whether it’s Milwaukee or another club, you have a bright future ahead of yourself as long as you can win the mental game.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I asked defensively.

Dad flagged down the waiter and ordered another round of drinks. I should’ve told him I didn’t want another, but I kept my mouth closed. My tolerance was down because I’d quit drinking over a month before leaving for spring training. A lot of the guys went out after practice every day, but I stayed out of the bars so I could prove I was ready to move up.

“Nick, when it comes to the mechanics of the game, there’s very little left for you to learn,” he informed me. “Yes, you can hone your skills to keep improving on everything you already know, but you have every skill you need in order to be a great pitcher. You’re confident in your strengths, you are quick to read the hitter when he’s in the box, and your mind is like a steel trap when you’re reviewing footage for upcoming games.

“The problem is, that’s only half of what makes a good player. The rest of it is the piece you’re still struggling with,” he continued. I wasn’t sure I wanted to hear what he had to say, but I could tell he was simply speaking as my former baseball player father, so I allowed myself to listen to his wisdom. “I thought you’d gotten over the mental block last year, but I can see you’re tense again. And it’s hard for me, as both your father and a GM, to watch you struggle when I know it’s because of me.”

“It’s not your fault,” I assured him. Because he was right—this was my problem, not his. “And you’re not telling me anything I haven’t come to realize. Hell, we’re not the only father and son in our position, but I feel like I’m the only one freaking out about what others think.”

“Have you considered reaching out to any of them?” Dad suggested. The waiter dropped off our meals and asked if we needed anything else. Dad excused him and kept going. “I’ve talked to Max Hoyt and he said Trevor went through a lot of what you’re feeling. He might be willing to help give you some ideas.”

I couldn’t do that. No way was I about to admit my insecurities to someone I barely knew. I’d watched Trevor and studied his career. If he worried about his relationship with his father, it didn’t show. He was a force to be reckoned with. “I’ll think about it.”

“I hope you do.” He still sounded worried about me. “Now, I know there’s something else bothering you. Would you like to talk about it?”

I blinked rapidly as I tried to figure out what he was talking about. I thought back to the past winter, trying to figure out if I’d seemed upset about anything. While I knew what bothered me almost daily, I didn’t think I’d let on to my family how miserable I’d been.

“Other than when you were coaching or training last winter, the only time you left the house without a guilt trip was when Corey got married,” Dad offered when I couldn’t come up with what he might be alluding to. “And after you came home from the wedding, you seemed even more miserable than you had been.”

“Gee, way to make me sound pathetic,” I scoffed. “You know I don’t do well when I’m not on a set schedule.”

“That’s not it,” he challenged me. “Look, I have a pretty good idea what you’re trying to hide away from all of us, but it’s not my place to be the one to put it out there.”

“Well, you’re going to have to give me a clue, because right now I have no idea what you’re waiting for me to say,” I argued.

Dad stacked his flatware and napkin on his plate and pushed it to the edge of the table. He folded his hands on top of the table and leaned in, closing his eyes as he tried to figure out a way to say whatever had him so concerned. When he opened his eyes, they shone with an emotion I couldn’t put my finger on. He pursed his lips and cocked his head to the side, still remaining completely silent.

“Nick, I know we didn’t have the type of relationship you wanted when you were younger, and that’s my fault,” he apologized. “When I tell you I know what you’re feeling right now, it’s because I do. I still remember vividly what it’s like to be a young player who’s trying to do everything he can to make it to the big show. There were times I let my priorities get out of whack and even once when I almost lost everything. I was so focused on trying to make it that I lost sight of everything that’d matter after the last time I stepped onto the field. At the time, retirement was still some abstract concept years down the road, and I took my personal life for granted.”

Wow, now that he’d started talking, he didn’t seem like he was going to quit anytime soon. I looked at him and tried to remember any of the events he was telling me about. The years he spent struggling through the minors while Mom and I were at home. I was only six when he made it to the majors, so it’d been easy for me to forget that he’d been in my shoes once upon a time.

“I think as you watch your teammates and friends falling in love and getting married, it’s bothering you because you’re still alone,” he told me, causing me to choke on a piece of steak. I waved him off when he got up to thump me on the back the way he did when I was a kid. “Sorry, I guess that was a bit abrupt. But after your mother brought it up, it made sense. Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad you’re not like a lot of the guys, going out and screwing just for the sake of release, but it’s got to get lonely not having anyone who cares.”

“I have plenty of people in my life,” I countered. It was a fucking lie. I had my family, but that was it. I’d held everyone else at a distance. “Sometimes, I think I’m the lucky one because I don’t have to worry about anyone waiting for me at home and whether or not this will be the year they decide enough is enough and leave.”

“I know you have people who could be considered friends. That’s not what I’m implying,” Dad clarified. “And while you’ve done a good job spinning this in your mind, I think you’re bullshitting both of us right now. If you were really happy, I wouldn’t say anything, but you’re not. And that’s another mental block you need to get over so you can play. I just… I want you to know your mother and I will support you if you decide you want to make a change. And no matter who you choose to spend time with, it won’t make any difference to us. You do know we’ll love you no matter what, right?”

He knew. My eyes shot around the room, trying to figure out the nearest exit. My heart raced and it became nearly impossible to breathe. I’d been keeping this huge secret and it was all for nothing because he already knew. I had no fucking clue how, since I’d always been obsessively careful, but he knew. Shit, this was huge.

“Nick, are you okay?” Dad pushed his glass of water toward me and I emptied it in one gulp. Hell no, I wasn’t okay.

“How’d you know?” I asked. I wasn’t going to insult him by making him think he might’ve been wrong.