It was the top of the 9th. Last game of the season.
Two down. The runner on third inched down the line, ready to bolt for home.
Joe's knees ached, but the excitement kept his mind focused on the pitch.
He signaled low and in, and the pitcher complied.
Crack!
Sharp grounder to short.
The runner's cleats kicked up dirt as he flew home. Joe jumped in front of the plate, waiting for the throw.
The ball slapped into his glove. The runner's cleats came up. Joe braced for impact.
Crash!
Joe stood his ground, even as the breath was knocked from him.
He held the ball up for the umpire to see as the crowd cheered.
He took his time getting back to the dugout, catching his breath.
As he pulled the chest protector from over his head, he heard his coach call, "You're up, Joe. Do your thing."
He unclipped the shin guards and tossed them aside. He grabbed his bat and helmet and headed back to the plate.
It was a mighty swing, but a wimpy hit. The ball dribbled down the third base line.
Joe put his head down and ran like his butt was on fire.
He ran through the bag as the first baseman stretched for the throw. He wasn't sure whether he was safe or not, but then the crowd's roar let him know. He turned to grin at the first base coach, expecting a thumbs up. There was nothing but intensity on the first base coach's face as he pointed at second base with one arm and windmilled the other.
Joe was already running for second before he realized what had happened - the throw to first had gone wide and the ball was at the fence.
He slid into second, grinning and wheezing.
A moment later, he watched a long fly ball head to center field. He tagged up on second, and sprinted for third on the catch, easily making it on time.
Bottom of the ninth. Score still tied. One down.
Joe glanced to the dugout, raising an eyebrow at his coach.
His coach shook his head, slowly and firmly.
Joe knew he should play it safe.
Should wait for the hit.
Shouldn't risk everything on a hair-brained risky move.
But on the wind-up, his feet were already moving, as if they were in charge and he was not.
For a moment, he was terrified. But there was no turning back now, so he leaned forward, legs and arms pumping in a desperate effort.
He dove, arms stretched like Superman, stretching for the plate.
The catcher was blocking his way, but had taken the pitch too far in front of the plate after pushing the batter out of the way. Joe glimpsed the back 6 inches of the plate, exposed behind the catcher's shin guards.
The throw had beaten him, but he hadn't been tagged yet.
As he landed, he lunged. He felt the tag hit him hard on the head. He rolled away, momentum carrying him into the umpire's legs.
He lay there, tangled with the catcher and umpire, panting as the crowd's screams filled his ears.
Showing posts with label changeup. Show all posts
Showing posts with label changeup. Show all posts
Changeup, Chapter 26
Joe stared at the lights, bright as day above his head.
He was lying in the grass in center field. The team was on the road, and there had been no game tonight. Even empty, it was a sight to behold. He'd dreamed of standing on a big league field his whole life, and now he could do it whenever he wanted.
For the time being, anyway.
"Whatever's on your mind looks awfully heavy, Joe. Need some help carrying it?"
He hadn't heard or seen her coming, but her voice brought a small smile to his tense face.
She sat next to him, and he moved to place his head in her lap.
"I think it's over, Renee."
She frowned down at him.
"Huh. Not the way I pictured hearing that news."
Joe's eyes opened wide in terror.
"Not us! This." He waved at the lights.
He explained the situation.
"I could sell out, but they know I'm between a rock and a hard place, and I would be lucky to get pennies on the dollar. My dad's inheritance, wiped out in a little over a year. Betcha he'd be proud of me, huh?"
"I'm proud of you, Joe. You're doing things your way, and it's working. Otherwise, they wouldn't need to pull such shady shenanigans to beat you."
"Thanks. I could borrow the money, but how is going into debt honoring Dad's gift? I can't do that."
Joe sighed.
"What would you say if all this was gone?"
"I'd say you still owed me a hot dog."
She smiled.
"Look, Joe. I don't care if you're rich. You weren't when I met you. Riches haven't changed you, and I'd like to think your riches haven't changed how much I love you. We'll figure it out."
Joe relaxed. They stared at the lights in silence for a while, enjoying quiet company.
"Marry me?"
He was lying in the grass in center field. The team was on the road, and there had been no game tonight. Even empty, it was a sight to behold. He'd dreamed of standing on a big league field his whole life, and now he could do it whenever he wanted.
For the time being, anyway.
"Whatever's on your mind looks awfully heavy, Joe. Need some help carrying it?"
He hadn't heard or seen her coming, but her voice brought a small smile to his tense face.
She sat next to him, and he moved to place his head in her lap.
"I think it's over, Renee."
She frowned down at him.
"Huh. Not the way I pictured hearing that news."
Joe's eyes opened wide in terror.
"Not us! This." He waved at the lights.
He explained the situation.
"I could sell out, but they know I'm between a rock and a hard place, and I would be lucky to get pennies on the dollar. My dad's inheritance, wiped out in a little over a year. Betcha he'd be proud of me, huh?"
"I'm proud of you, Joe. You're doing things your way, and it's working. Otherwise, they wouldn't need to pull such shady shenanigans to beat you."
"Thanks. I could borrow the money, but how is going into debt honoring Dad's gift? I can't do that."
Joe sighed.
"What would you say if all this was gone?"
"I'd say you still owed me a hot dog."
She smiled.
"Look, Joe. I don't care if you're rich. You weren't when I met you. Riches haven't changed you, and I'd like to think your riches haven't changed how much I love you. We'll figure it out."
Joe relaxed. They stared at the lights in silence for a while, enjoying quiet company.
"Marry me?"
Changeup, Chapter 25
Joe stared at the letter. He had no idea what it meant.
He glanced over the top of it, and then gently let it fall from his fingers to the desk.
Ms. Primrose met his stare and raised an eyebrow.
"Ok, Annette. What does this even mean?"
"Ms. Primrose, thank you, and it means you have to come up with funding for a new stadium by the start of next season."
Joe coughed, and coffee splattered on the letter.
"What?!? Why?"
"New rule. Stadiums can't be more than 40 years old. Trying to maintain a big-league image, after all."
"How old is ours?"
"Kauffman Stadium is 41 years old."
"Then this isn't about the age of the stadium. Someone wants me out. What other stadiums are affected by this?"
"One. The Angels just announced a plan to build a new stadium. Most are unaffected because there's a grandfather clause for stadiums renovated since 2010."
"That's a relief! We just renovated."
"In 2009."
Joe's brow furrowed and his face flushed; his demeanor darkening uncharacteristically.
"Then it's not just someone, Ms. Primrose. They all want me out."
He crumpled the letter and threw it across the room.
He glanced over the top of it, and then gently let it fall from his fingers to the desk.
Ms. Primrose met his stare and raised an eyebrow.
"Ok, Annette. What does this even mean?"
"Ms. Primrose, thank you, and it means you have to come up with funding for a new stadium by the start of next season."
Joe coughed, and coffee splattered on the letter.
"What?!? Why?"
"New rule. Stadiums can't be more than 40 years old. Trying to maintain a big-league image, after all."
"How old is ours?"
"Kauffman Stadium is 41 years old."
"Then this isn't about the age of the stadium. Someone wants me out. What other stadiums are affected by this?"
"One. The Angels just announced a plan to build a new stadium. Most are unaffected because there's a grandfather clause for stadiums renovated since 2010."
"That's a relief! We just renovated."
"In 2009."
Joe's brow furrowed and his face flushed; his demeanor darkening uncharacteristically.
"Then it's not just someone, Ms. Primrose. They all want me out."
He crumpled the letter and threw it across the room.
Changeup, Chapter 24
"We have to stop him."
"He's changing everything."
"He doesn't care if his bottom line isn't going up."
"Doesn't he realize this is a business?"
"What are we going to do?"
"Well, I'm sure not losing to some kid!"
The room wasn't crowded, but the agitated chatter filled it just the same.
Mr. Simpson stood and cleared his throat. Silence filtered through the room.
"Gentlemen, thank you for meeting me today. Before we begin, I need to stress that this is not an officially sanctioned owners' meeting, and the commissioner knows nothing about what we're discussing today. Isn't that right, Mr. Commissioner?"
Everyone chuckled as the commissioner raised a glass from his table in the back.
"I'd like to invite Nathan Finnigan to tell us more about Joe, the new thorn in our side."
There were a few more chuckles, but Nathan didn't so much as smile as he stood.
He laid out the details much as he had the evening he had met privately with Mr. Simpson.
When he finished, Simpson spoke again. "Gentlemen, I have no problem accepting change, but I will not accept thinner margins and weaker bottom lines. If this is how he wants to play, then we need to figure out how to shut him out. Any ideas?"
No one spoke as they all stared at each other, scheming, and apparently coming up with nothing.
Eventually, someone spoke up. "What are his vulnerabilities, Nathan? Where's he weak?"
A smile finally cracked on Nathan's face.
"Cash. Joe's rich, but he's all in."
The smile spread from Nathan's face to every other one in the room.
"He's changing everything."
"He doesn't care if his bottom line isn't going up."
"Doesn't he realize this is a business?"
"What are we going to do?"
"Well, I'm sure not losing to some kid!"
The room wasn't crowded, but the agitated chatter filled it just the same.
Mr. Simpson stood and cleared his throat. Silence filtered through the room.
"Gentlemen, thank you for meeting me today. Before we begin, I need to stress that this is not an officially sanctioned owners' meeting, and the commissioner knows nothing about what we're discussing today. Isn't that right, Mr. Commissioner?"
Everyone chuckled as the commissioner raised a glass from his table in the back.
"I'd like to invite Nathan Finnigan to tell us more about Joe, the new thorn in our side."
There were a few more chuckles, but Nathan didn't so much as smile as he stood.
He laid out the details much as he had the evening he had met privately with Mr. Simpson.
When he finished, Simpson spoke again. "Gentlemen, I have no problem accepting change, but I will not accept thinner margins and weaker bottom lines. If this is how he wants to play, then we need to figure out how to shut him out. Any ideas?"
No one spoke as they all stared at each other, scheming, and apparently coming up with nothing.
Eventually, someone spoke up. "What are his vulnerabilities, Nathan? Where's he weak?"
A smile finally cracked on Nathan's face.
"Cash. Joe's rich, but he's all in."
The smile spread from Nathan's face to every other one in the room.
Changeup, Chapter 23
"Joe, there's a lawyer here to see you."
Joe frowned. He didn't like lawyers.
"What about? Am I being sued?"
His receptionist, Kate, shrugged. "Not likely. Works for you in Legal."
Joe frowned further. He didn't know he had a Legal department, but it made sense.
"Send him in, I guess."
"She'll be right in", Kate said pointedly.
A tall, dour woman with permanently arched eyebrows tapped in loudly, her high heels leaving a staccato echo in the hall.
"Hi, I'm Joe."
"Annette Primrose, your General Counsel."
"Pleased to meet you, Annette. Have a seat."
"Ms. Primrose, thank you." She sat, but remained ramrod straight. Joe unconsciously slouched a bit more to balance it out.
"What's this about, Ms. Primrose?"
"You have to stop these stunts."
"What stunts?"
"You know perfectly well what stunts, Mr. -"
"Joe. Just Joe. So what do I have to stop doing?"
"Hmph. The lottery you hold before each game by randomly calling a seat number for a fan to throw out the first pitch, or to be the bat boy for the game."
"There's no harm in that, and the fans love it."
"What about letting the kids run around the bases after the games? If there were an injury, you would definitely be sued."
"For letting kids be kids? I doubt it."
"It's my job to protect you from lawsuits. These are things I see as a potential risk for our organization. It's my duty to advise you against these activities."
Joe stared for a moment, almost amused at the consternation Ms. Primrose felt over some Little Leaguers.
That's when the idea struck.
"I appreciate it, Ms. Primrose. But please don't have a heart attack when that risk gets a bit more potential."
Though hardly possible, Ms. Primrose's eyebrows arched higher as she sat up even straighter in her chair.
"And just what do you have planned?"
"Every Little Leaguer in the world dreams of playing on a major league field someday, Ms. Primrose. And starting tomorrow, they'll get that chance."
Before every home game, Joe let a local little league team play a game on his field. The leagues played on a rotating basis, so teams from all areas of town got a chance to play. Admission was, of course, free. And if you cared about baseball enough to show up early and watch the kids, you got to stay and watch the pros.
Attendance soared.
Hi!
.
Joe frowned. He didn't like lawyers.
"What about? Am I being sued?"
His receptionist, Kate, shrugged. "Not likely. Works for you in Legal."
Joe frowned further. He didn't know he had a Legal department, but it made sense.
"Send him in, I guess."
"She'll be right in", Kate said pointedly.
A tall, dour woman with permanently arched eyebrows tapped in loudly, her high heels leaving a staccato echo in the hall.
"Hi, I'm Joe."
"Annette Primrose, your General Counsel."
"Pleased to meet you, Annette. Have a seat."
"Ms. Primrose, thank you." She sat, but remained ramrod straight. Joe unconsciously slouched a bit more to balance it out.
"What's this about, Ms. Primrose?"
"You have to stop these stunts."
"What stunts?"
"You know perfectly well what stunts, Mr. -"
"Joe. Just Joe. So what do I have to stop doing?"
"Hmph. The lottery you hold before each game by randomly calling a seat number for a fan to throw out the first pitch, or to be the bat boy for the game."
"There's no harm in that, and the fans love it."
"What about letting the kids run around the bases after the games? If there were an injury, you would definitely be sued."
"For letting kids be kids? I doubt it."
"It's my job to protect you from lawsuits. These are things I see as a potential risk for our organization. It's my duty to advise you against these activities."
Joe stared for a moment, almost amused at the consternation Ms. Primrose felt over some Little Leaguers.
That's when the idea struck.
"I appreciate it, Ms. Primrose. But please don't have a heart attack when that risk gets a bit more potential."
Though hardly possible, Ms. Primrose's eyebrows arched higher as she sat up even straighter in her chair.
"And just what do you have planned?"
"Every Little Leaguer in the world dreams of playing on a major league field someday, Ms. Primrose. And starting tomorrow, they'll get that chance."
Before every home game, Joe let a local little league team play a game on his field. The leagues played on a rotating basis, so teams from all areas of town got a chance to play. Admission was, of course, free. And if you cared about baseball enough to show up early and watch the kids, you got to stay and watch the pros.
Attendance soared.
Hi!
.
Changeup, Chapter 22
The room was dark, but the well-dressed elite within would have called it 'atmosphere'. A quiet piano plinked away tunelessly in the background.
The waiters wore tuxedos, but not as expensive as the tuxedos worn by the two men in the corner.
There were no prices on the menus. Prices didn't matter in places like this.
The older of the two men casually flipped his rotund wrist. There were no words and definitely no eye contact, but the waiter did as he was told. He opened the Le Chambertin and poured two glasses before he disappeared once more.
The older man never touched his glass. He leaned forward and trained his flint-speckled eyes on the younger man.
"Continue."
The younger man fidgeted nervously. He didn't know if he should ignore his as well, or if he should make sure to finish his glass of $1000 per bottle wine.
"I laughed at him at first, but Joe seems to know what he's doing. The things he's doing - they're working."
"Hogwash. He's a kid and his team is in last place. I have nothing to worry about. The league has nothing to worry about."
"Then you're not paying attention, Mr. Simpson."
"Enlighten me."
"Every home game this season has sold out."
"At $5 - $20 a ticket, that's not surprising. He's still not making as much as we are."
"Not on ticket sales. But the increased interest has created new fans. People love what he's doing. They can't keep merchandise in stock."
"Neither can we. Our Dominguez and Greenley jerseys have been selling out for years."
"And both of your stars are retiring this year."
"So he sells a few more jerseys than me next year. Again, why do I care?"
"Their endorsement deals are through the roof. And that's major money; corporate money. Long-term contracts."
"All right, you have a point. But when I win the World Series this year, again, I'll have all the endorsement deals I want."
"That's the point, Mr. Simpson. You won't win it again next year. You'll be stuck rebuilding the team for the next few years. You won't get the usual deals you've grown accustomed to. But that's still not your biggest worry."
Mr. Simpson frowned. He finally reached for his drink.
"He's getting the younger players at a fraction of the cost you are. He's hiring them all at league minimums. His payroll is the lowest in the league."
"Good. He'll never keep them that way."
"Wrong. They're signing extended contracts already. And the veterans are begging to renegotiate their contracts similarly."
"Why in the world would they do that, Mr. Finnigan?"
"He's splitting the team's profits with them. Across the board. For life."
Mr. Simpson's wine glass was empty.
The waiters wore tuxedos, but not as expensive as the tuxedos worn by the two men in the corner.
There were no prices on the menus. Prices didn't matter in places like this.
The older of the two men casually flipped his rotund wrist. There were no words and definitely no eye contact, but the waiter did as he was told. He opened the Le Chambertin and poured two glasses before he disappeared once more.
The older man never touched his glass. He leaned forward and trained his flint-speckled eyes on the younger man.
"Continue."
The younger man fidgeted nervously. He didn't know if he should ignore his as well, or if he should make sure to finish his glass of $1000 per bottle wine.
"I laughed at him at first, but Joe seems to know what he's doing. The things he's doing - they're working."
"Hogwash. He's a kid and his team is in last place. I have nothing to worry about. The league has nothing to worry about."
"Then you're not paying attention, Mr. Simpson."
"Enlighten me."
"Every home game this season has sold out."
"At $5 - $20 a ticket, that's not surprising. He's still not making as much as we are."
"Not on ticket sales. But the increased interest has created new fans. People love what he's doing. They can't keep merchandise in stock."
"Neither can we. Our Dominguez and Greenley jerseys have been selling out for years."
"And both of your stars are retiring this year."
"So he sells a few more jerseys than me next year. Again, why do I care?"
"Their endorsement deals are through the roof. And that's major money; corporate money. Long-term contracts."
"All right, you have a point. But when I win the World Series this year, again, I'll have all the endorsement deals I want."
"That's the point, Mr. Simpson. You won't win it again next year. You'll be stuck rebuilding the team for the next few years. You won't get the usual deals you've grown accustomed to. But that's still not your biggest worry."
Mr. Simpson frowned. He finally reached for his drink.
"He's getting the younger players at a fraction of the cost you are. He's hiring them all at league minimums. His payroll is the lowest in the league."
"Good. He'll never keep them that way."
"Wrong. They're signing extended contracts already. And the veterans are begging to renegotiate their contracts similarly."
"Why in the world would they do that, Mr. Finnigan?"
"He's splitting the team's profits with them. Across the board. For life."
Mr. Simpson's wine glass was empty.
Changeup, Chapter 21
Joe knew he was breaking the rules, but he didn't even hesitate for a moment as he turned on his old transistor radio.
He turned the volume all the way down, and then back up just a hair. He didn't have to waste any time finding the right AM station; his dial never moved from the broadcast of the Dukes, his hometown minor league team.
He couldn't cheer since it would alert his parents, but he could silently pump his fists in the air toward the invisible ceiling in his blackened room. Every hit, every stolen base, and especially every run was celebrated with the fervor of Christmas. Every strikeout, every double play and every long fly ball that didn't quite make the fence filled Joe with dismay.
Joe's folks sat in the living room. Joe's dad read the paper while Joe's mom worked a jigsaw puzzle.
"Ed? Did you hear that?"
"I know."
"Are you going to go talk to him?"
"No. Let him be, at least for tonight."
"You say that most nights."
When they finally headed off to bed, his dad stopped and opened Joe's door. He smiled as the light from the hall showed little Joe, in his footed pajamas, hugging the transistor radio as nothing but static eminated from the speakers.
He kissed Joe on the forehead and gently placed the radio on the dresser.
As he tucked him in once again, he whispered, "Good night, Buddy. Love you."
.
He turned the volume all the way down, and then back up just a hair. He didn't have to waste any time finding the right AM station; his dial never moved from the broadcast of the Dukes, his hometown minor league team.
He couldn't cheer since it would alert his parents, but he could silently pump his fists in the air toward the invisible ceiling in his blackened room. Every hit, every stolen base, and especially every run was celebrated with the fervor of Christmas. Every strikeout, every double play and every long fly ball that didn't quite make the fence filled Joe with dismay.
Joe's folks sat in the living room. Joe's dad read the paper while Joe's mom worked a jigsaw puzzle.
"Ed? Did you hear that?"
"I know."
"Are you going to go talk to him?"
"No. Let him be, at least for tonight."
"You say that most nights."
When they finally headed off to bed, his dad stopped and opened Joe's door. He smiled as the light from the hall showed little Joe, in his footed pajamas, hugging the transistor radio as nothing but static eminated from the speakers.
He kissed Joe on the forehead and gently placed the radio on the dresser.
As he tucked him in once again, he whispered, "Good night, Buddy. Love you."
.
Changeup, Chapter 20
Renee sat across from him, frowning nervously.
With one hand, she slid her appetizer around and around her plate. Her other fidgeted and rubbed an earring. No genie appeared.
"What's wrong?", Joe asked.
Renee's frown immediately dissolved as she glanced up at Joe. She smiled slightly.
"Nothing's wrong. I'm just nervous. It's a big night."
Joe laughed.
"I wasn't nervous when I met your dad."
Renee chuckled. "You planned that one right! Had I brought you to meet him, you would have had every reason to be nervous."
Joe smiled. "I'm a planner."
Renee laughed again.
"But really", Joe said. "You don't have to be nervous about meeting Mom. She's great. Easy-going."
"Am I?"
Joe stood and pulled out the table's only empty chair.
"Mom, this is Renee. Renee, this is my mom, Bee."
The waiter topped off drinks as initial pleasantries were exchanged. They ordered, then talked about Joe.
Joe hadn't quite seen this one coming. He thought he'd have to guide the conversation to make sure the ice was broken. Instead, they laughed like old friends. Renee listened to each of the stories Joe's mom told with enraptured interest, interjecting only with a question here and there. It turned out he wasn't really needed except to turn red and explain himself now and then.
He sputtered the embarrassing back story to the infamous giraffe escapade. After the laughter died down, Bee said to Renee, "Joe tells me you're a baseball nut, too."
Renee nodded enthusiastically. "Grew up on it. My dad didn't know how to relate to a little girl, so we bonded over baseball."
The conversation turned to the good old days.
Bee said, "What do you miss the most?"
Renee thought a moment. "Announcing."
Joe looked puzzled. "Announcing?!? You never told me you were an announcer."
Renee blushed. "I wasn't. But sometimes Dad would put on a big league game with the sound off and let me be the announcer. Seems silly now, but it was a lot of fun then. It made Dad enjoy the games no matter who won."
Joe turned to his Mom. "What do you miss?"
"Watching you. You loved it so much. You were never much of a pitcher, but I remember the first time you got put on the mound. Your team had a good lead, so the coach was kind enough to let some of you try out positions you wouldn't normally get to play. You pitched the last inning of the game."
Joe beamed. "I remember that! I was nervous, but settled in quickly. I struck out one of my friends on the other team. I couldn't believe I did so well!"
Joe's mom laughed. "No, you were terrible! You struck out your friend, but gave up 6 runs beforehand. You struck him out the second time you faced him that inning! But you didn't care; you were just excited to take the mound. You smiled ear to ear, from start to finish. I've always wondered what that felt like. I was so happy for you"
They stayed so long, they shut down the restaurant. They walked to their cars, the conversation hardly interrupted. Joe opened the door for Renee. The handle jammed. He sighed, embarrassed.
"Guess I'll have to finally replace this old thing."
"Why?", asked Renee.
"Runs fine", said Bee. "Don't toss something aside just because it's not fancy."
.
With one hand, she slid her appetizer around and around her plate. Her other fidgeted and rubbed an earring. No genie appeared.
"What's wrong?", Joe asked.
Renee's frown immediately dissolved as she glanced up at Joe. She smiled slightly.
"Nothing's wrong. I'm just nervous. It's a big night."
Joe laughed.
"I wasn't nervous when I met your dad."
Renee chuckled. "You planned that one right! Had I brought you to meet him, you would have had every reason to be nervous."
Joe smiled. "I'm a planner."
Renee laughed again.
"But really", Joe said. "You don't have to be nervous about meeting Mom. She's great. Easy-going."
"Am I?"
Joe stood and pulled out the table's only empty chair.
"Mom, this is Renee. Renee, this is my mom, Bee."
The waiter topped off drinks as initial pleasantries were exchanged. They ordered, then talked about Joe.
Joe hadn't quite seen this one coming. He thought he'd have to guide the conversation to make sure the ice was broken. Instead, they laughed like old friends. Renee listened to each of the stories Joe's mom told with enraptured interest, interjecting only with a question here and there. It turned out he wasn't really needed except to turn red and explain himself now and then.
He sputtered the embarrassing back story to the infamous giraffe escapade. After the laughter died down, Bee said to Renee, "Joe tells me you're a baseball nut, too."
Renee nodded enthusiastically. "Grew up on it. My dad didn't know how to relate to a little girl, so we bonded over baseball."
The conversation turned to the good old days.
Bee said, "What do you miss the most?"
Renee thought a moment. "Announcing."
Joe looked puzzled. "Announcing?!? You never told me you were an announcer."
Renee blushed. "I wasn't. But sometimes Dad would put on a big league game with the sound off and let me be the announcer. Seems silly now, but it was a lot of fun then. It made Dad enjoy the games no matter who won."
Joe turned to his Mom. "What do you miss?"
"Watching you. You loved it so much. You were never much of a pitcher, but I remember the first time you got put on the mound. Your team had a good lead, so the coach was kind enough to let some of you try out positions you wouldn't normally get to play. You pitched the last inning of the game."
Joe beamed. "I remember that! I was nervous, but settled in quickly. I struck out one of my friends on the other team. I couldn't believe I did so well!"
Joe's mom laughed. "No, you were terrible! You struck out your friend, but gave up 6 runs beforehand. You struck him out the second time you faced him that inning! But you didn't care; you were just excited to take the mound. You smiled ear to ear, from start to finish. I've always wondered what that felt like. I was so happy for you"
They stayed so long, they shut down the restaurant. They walked to their cars, the conversation hardly interrupted. Joe opened the door for Renee. The handle jammed. He sighed, embarrassed.
"Guess I'll have to finally replace this old thing."
"Why?", asked Renee.
"Runs fine", said Bee. "Don't toss something aside just because it's not fancy."
.
Changeup, Chapter 19
Tryouts lasted a week.
Joe watched on and off, but did not offer any input. He had expected most of the hopefuls to be hacks simply having a good time. He was surprised at how many had showed up with talent as well as a glove.
On the last day, he sat in a dugout watching with Mr. Finnigan. Mr. Finnigan was pacing, again. He was angry and more than a little anxious with the approach Joe had taken to fill the shortstop position.
"Tell me again why we're putting on this circus instead of bringing in a pro."
"A 'pro' is one thing, Mr. Finnigan. A washed up star coasting into retirement is another. Not only would that be more expensive, but nobody fitting that description could be expected to try as hard as a rookie."
Mr. Finnigan paced, his scowl growing.
"We're making fools of ourselves. I'll bet the other owners are laughing themselves to sleep every night knowing we'll put anybody on our team."
Joe smiled.
"I bet the other owners already have shortstops."
Lou came into the dugout, a stack of bats over his bony shoulder.
"Who would you pick, Lou?"
Lou looked up at Joe, started.
"Me?
Lou glanced nervously at Mr. Finnigan, and then said, "I'd pick that Carson kid."
Mr. Finnigan snorted derisively. "Him? He's 17!"
Lou's eyes narrowed and his jaw set as he said, "He's quick on his feet. Nothing gets past him in the gap between second and third, and he attacks sharp hits instead of flinching from them."
Mr. Finnigan laughed, but his tone was curt. "He swings at everything. He had no patience at the plate."
Lou was undaunted. "Doesn't matter. Comes with experience. You can't teach someone hustle or drive. I can teach him patience."
"Not your job, Lou. Leave the bats in the corner on your way out."
"It is now", said Joe. "You're fired, Mr. Finnigan."
Joe watched on and off, but did not offer any input. He had expected most of the hopefuls to be hacks simply having a good time. He was surprised at how many had showed up with talent as well as a glove.
On the last day, he sat in a dugout watching with Mr. Finnigan. Mr. Finnigan was pacing, again. He was angry and more than a little anxious with the approach Joe had taken to fill the shortstop position.
"Tell me again why we're putting on this circus instead of bringing in a pro."
"A 'pro' is one thing, Mr. Finnigan. A washed up star coasting into retirement is another. Not only would that be more expensive, but nobody fitting that description could be expected to try as hard as a rookie."
Mr. Finnigan paced, his scowl growing.
"We're making fools of ourselves. I'll bet the other owners are laughing themselves to sleep every night knowing we'll put anybody on our team."
Joe smiled.
"I bet the other owners already have shortstops."
Lou came into the dugout, a stack of bats over his bony shoulder.
"Who would you pick, Lou?"
Lou looked up at Joe, started.
"Me?
Lou glanced nervously at Mr. Finnigan, and then said, "I'd pick that Carson kid."
Mr. Finnigan snorted derisively. "Him? He's 17!"
Lou's eyes narrowed and his jaw set as he said, "He's quick on his feet. Nothing gets past him in the gap between second and third, and he attacks sharp hits instead of flinching from them."
Mr. Finnigan laughed, but his tone was curt. "He swings at everything. He had no patience at the plate."
Lou was undaunted. "Doesn't matter. Comes with experience. You can't teach someone hustle or drive. I can teach him patience."
"Not your job, Lou. Leave the bats in the corner on your way out."
"It is now", said Joe. "You're fired, Mr. Finnigan."
Changeup, Chapter 18
2400 people showed up for the open tryouts.
The press showed up in such great numbers that Joe spent much of his time answering reporters' questions.
"Why did you fire Dempsey?"
"Why are you holding open tryouts?"
"Did you know your AAA farm team shortstop, Frank Hampton, is upset he didn't get called up?"
Joe had sat on the roof of the third base dugout to watch the tryouts. He'd been trying to stay out of the coaching staff's way as they weeded out the hopefuls, but his poorly chosen spot was quickly seen. He finally turned to face the reporters.
"These tryouts are open. I don't see Frank Hampton here. Guess he didn't want it that bad. As for Dempsey - he cheated, so he's gone. Every one of our players will be required to sign an addendum to their contract agreeing not to cheat in any way. If they're caught doing so, their contract will be voided. As for the tryouts - I've just been given a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. Why not pass that opportunity along?"
Joe hopped off the dugout into the field and walked away from the reporters. He wandered down the left field line, thinking.
He startled a bit when the left field fence popped open. He looked up and saw an older man, carrying a bucket.
"Sorry", Joe said. He stepped to the side to let the man go through.
"No problem. You must be Joe." The man stuck out a wrinkled hand. "I'm Lou."
Joe shook Lou's hand, which was surprisingly strong.
"Good to meet you, Lou. What do you do here?"
"Little of this, little of that. Right now's I'm raiding the bullpen for some more balls. We're using everything we can find today."
Lou touched the tip of his hat and stepped around Joe as he headed back toward the field. He stopped, and then turned back slightly.
"Gotta hand it to you, Son. Ain't never done it like this before."
Joe nodded. "I've never done it before at all!"
.
The press showed up in such great numbers that Joe spent much of his time answering reporters' questions.
"Why did you fire Dempsey?"
"Why are you holding open tryouts?"
"Did you know your AAA farm team shortstop, Frank Hampton, is upset he didn't get called up?"
Joe had sat on the roof of the third base dugout to watch the tryouts. He'd been trying to stay out of the coaching staff's way as they weeded out the hopefuls, but his poorly chosen spot was quickly seen. He finally turned to face the reporters.
"These tryouts are open. I don't see Frank Hampton here. Guess he didn't want it that bad. As for Dempsey - he cheated, so he's gone. Every one of our players will be required to sign an addendum to their contract agreeing not to cheat in any way. If they're caught doing so, their contract will be voided. As for the tryouts - I've just been given a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. Why not pass that opportunity along?"
Joe hopped off the dugout into the field and walked away from the reporters. He wandered down the left field line, thinking.
He startled a bit when the left field fence popped open. He looked up and saw an older man, carrying a bucket.
"Sorry", Joe said. He stepped to the side to let the man go through.
"No problem. You must be Joe." The man stuck out a wrinkled hand. "I'm Lou."
Joe shook Lou's hand, which was surprisingly strong.
"Good to meet you, Lou. What do you do here?"
"Little of this, little of that. Right now's I'm raiding the bullpen for some more balls. We're using everything we can find today."
Lou touched the tip of his hat and stepped around Joe as he headed back toward the field. He stopped, and then turned back slightly.
"Gotta hand it to you, Son. Ain't never done it like this before."
Joe nodded. "I've never done it before at all!"
.
Changeup, Chapter 17
"GO, JOE!"
She sat on the uncomfortable bleachers, which were rickety and hardened with time. Though she was swimming in it, Joe's tiny mom wore the team's t-shirt. "Sunrise Little League All-Stars" was printed in large red letters on the front. She hadn't complained the only size left was an extra large. She'd just smiled with pride.
Normally, Joe's mom was shy; quiet and reserved.
Not today.
Though she'd sat at hundreds of games, today was different. Her son had made the all-star team.
Joe could hear her over the crowd after every play he made; every swing he took.
When he stole second, she was on her feet.
And when he dove into home, safe by a hair, he was pretty sure she lost her voice.
His team lost that day, but Joe found it hard to hang his head as he gazed towards the bleachers.
There stood his 5'2" mother, beaming and tall on her 7 foot step stool of pride.
.
She sat on the uncomfortable bleachers, which were rickety and hardened with time. Though she was swimming in it, Joe's tiny mom wore the team's t-shirt. "Sunrise Little League All-Stars" was printed in large red letters on the front. She hadn't complained the only size left was an extra large. She'd just smiled with pride.
Normally, Joe's mom was shy; quiet and reserved.
Not today.
Though she'd sat at hundreds of games, today was different. Her son had made the all-star team.
Joe could hear her over the crowd after every play he made; every swing he took.
When he stole second, she was on her feet.
And when he dove into home, safe by a hair, he was pretty sure she lost her voice.
His team lost that day, but Joe found it hard to hang his head as he gazed towards the bleachers.
There stood his 5'2" mother, beaming and tall on her 7 foot step stool of pride.
.
Changeup, Chapter 16
Joe studied the list.
The number of names surprised him. He knew a baseball team was more than the starting nine, but he hadn't thought the number of people who now worked for him would be this high.
Ticket takers. Parking attendants. Cleanup crew.
Human resources. Physical trainers. Stats analysts.
Travel agents. Media relations. Sales and marketing.
He looked up from the list, sat back in his chair and sighed. He glanced at the man sitting across the desk from him.
"And where do you fit into all this, Mr. Finnigan?"
Nathan Finnigan was a tall man. He wore a tailored suit and his shoes shined. Not a hair out of place on his middle-aged head. Joe imagined he'd fit in better on Wall Street than in Kansas City.
"I make sure it all runs smoothly, Joe."
"So everyone reports to you?"
Mr. Finnigan smiled and waved a hand in Joe's direction.
"Not everyone."
"So what do I need to know, Mr. Finnigan?"
"You need a new shortstop, but you need him cheap and temporary."
"Why?"
"Your current one is out for half the season."
"Injury?"
"Suspension. Used performance enhancing drugs. But the good news is you don't have to pay him while he's suspended, so you have $9 million freed up to find a temporary replacement."
"We pay our shortstop $9 million a year?!?"
"$18...9 is for half the season."
"If he's a cheater, I don't want him. Cut him."
"Can't do that, Joe."
"Why not?"
"Harold Dempsey is still under contract. Cutting him means paying him, big-time. Besides, he's your star player."
"Then what do you suggest? How do you bring in someone good enough to play shortstop, but expect them to do their best knowing they're not going to stick around?"
"Easy. Find a star on his way out, an old-timer. Offer him $3 million for a one season contract. He'll play half the season, and then go on the injured reserve for the second half, but he won't mind because he's collecting for the entire season."
"You can put someone on the injured list if they're not injured?"
"Someone's injured when I say they're injured, Joe."
Joe stared at Mr. Finnigan for a while, absorbing the facts of life. He decided to switch topics for a moment.
"I want to make tickets more affordable for families, Mr. Finnigan."
"Of course, Joe! We have a family night every other month. Tickets for $5 a person."
Joe stared again.
"Cut Dempsey. And general admission tickets are $5 a person. Every game this season."
It was Finnigan's turn to stare, but he quickly recovered.
"I'll need to know who you want me to replace him with. I'll have a list of eligible players to you by the end of the day."
"Don't need a list, Mr. Finnigan."
"Who do you have in mind?"
"Not who, Mr. Finnigan, what. Put out a press release. Open tryouts for starting shortstop start tomorrow."
.
"You need a new shortstop, but you need him cheap and temporary."
"Why?"
"Your current one is out for half the season."
"Injury?"
"Suspension. Used performance enhancing drugs. But the good news is you don't have to pay him while he's suspended, so you have $9 million freed up to find a temporary replacement."
"We pay our shortstop $9 million a year?!?"
"$18...9 is for half the season."
"If he's a cheater, I don't want him. Cut him."
"Can't do that, Joe."
"Why not?"
"Harold Dempsey is still under contract. Cutting him means paying him, big-time. Besides, he's your star player."
"Then what do you suggest? How do you bring in someone good enough to play shortstop, but expect them to do their best knowing they're not going to stick around?"
"Easy. Find a star on his way out, an old-timer. Offer him $3 million for a one season contract. He'll play half the season, and then go on the injured reserve for the second half, but he won't mind because he's collecting for the entire season."
"You can put someone on the injured list if they're not injured?"
"Someone's injured when I say they're injured, Joe."
Joe stared at Mr. Finnigan for a while, absorbing the facts of life. He decided to switch topics for a moment.
"I want to make tickets more affordable for families, Mr. Finnigan."
"Of course, Joe! We have a family night every other month. Tickets for $5 a person."
Joe stared again.
"Cut Dempsey. And general admission tickets are $5 a person. Every game this season."
It was Finnigan's turn to stare, but he quickly recovered.
"I'll need to know who you want me to replace him with. I'll have a list of eligible players to you by the end of the day."
"Don't need a list, Mr. Finnigan."
"Who do you have in mind?"
"Not who, Mr. Finnigan, what. Put out a press release. Open tryouts for starting shortstop start tomorrow."
.
Changeup, Chapter 15
"You want to do what?!?"
"You heard me, Mike."
"I don't even know how to go about it. As you can imagine, I've never dealt with a client that had this much money. I've never handled this sort of transaction. There's going to have to be brokers, lawyers and consultants involved."
"Look, I'm not expecting you to be the expert or do it all yourself. I just know that I can trust you and I was hoping you'd coordinate this whole thing."
"I'll put together a valuation and then send you over a proposal to approve. This isn't going to be an overnight process, Joe."
"I understand. Thanks, Mike."
-
It didn't happen overnight, but three months of meetings, contracts and negotiations later, Joe dropped his pen on the desk, the ink drying on the last signature.
The baseball season was over, but it still took the top headline in the paper:
ROYALS GET NEW OWNER
Joe smiled as he glanced at the article. He only skimmed, as there weren't any details he wasn't already aware of.
He had butterflies in his stomach as he stepped up to the podium. He found it funny this was the part he was most nervous about. He'd just completed a purchase he could only have dreamed of 6 months ago, and he was sweating a few journalists. The irony made him smile, which made him look far more relaxed than he felt.
The questions came fast, and Joe's head swam. Where had he gotten the money? Were there other investors? Did he have any experience running teams before? No college degree? Would that put him at a disadvantage? Would the team stay in Kansas City, or did he plan on moving them?
Joe tried to keep up, but his one and two word answers only let the questions queue faster.
Finally, one journalist in the back caught his attention. "You're the youngest team owner in baseball history. What do you think you'll differently, and why?", she asked.
Joe paused to collect his thoughts. He thought about the games he'd seen with Dad. He thought about the thrills he'd felt watching the World Series and the All-Star games. The players he'd looked up to - Rickey Henderson, Joe Carter, Bo Jackson, Nolan Ryan.
He stepped around the podium, slowly but confidently, like a pastor preparing for an alter call.
"I love baseball. Have since I can remember, and probably before that. My dad was a great man, and that's what we shared - baseball. Playing, coaching, watching, analyzing, cheering; we did it all."
"Baseball was about believing. Believing you could get the hit. Believing your team would win the Series. When they didn't, you believed there was always next year."
"It was affordable. It brought communities together. Even during the Great Depression, stadiums were packed with families. Today, I look around and over half the stadium is empty...just like baseball is today."
Joe paused while he fished something out of his coat pocket.
"This is the ball my dad and I played with since I was able to sit up and roll it across the floor to him. It's signed by George Brett and Whitey Herzog. You may have heard of them; they're in the Hall of Fame. The cover's coming off and it's far from the shiny white it was when they signed it. That's because we played baseball with it. Today, someone would simply sell it on eBay and pocket the cash. Then it would sit in a display case on some soulless executive's desk in a gray high rise."
"I want kids to enjoy baseball again, like they used to. I want families to turn off the TV and put down their PlayStation controllers and come to the ballpark. I want them to bond and build memories as fond as mine."
"Baseball used to be the national pastime, and if I have my way, it will be again."
"You heard me, Mike."
"I don't even know how to go about it. As you can imagine, I've never dealt with a client that had this much money. I've never handled this sort of transaction. There's going to have to be brokers, lawyers and consultants involved."
"Look, I'm not expecting you to be the expert or do it all yourself. I just know that I can trust you and I was hoping you'd coordinate this whole thing."
"I'll put together a valuation and then send you over a proposal to approve. This isn't going to be an overnight process, Joe."
"I understand. Thanks, Mike."
-
It didn't happen overnight, but three months of meetings, contracts and negotiations later, Joe dropped his pen on the desk, the ink drying on the last signature.
The baseball season was over, but it still took the top headline in the paper:
ROYALS GET NEW OWNER
Joe smiled as he glanced at the article. He only skimmed, as there weren't any details he wasn't already aware of.
He had butterflies in his stomach as he stepped up to the podium. He found it funny this was the part he was most nervous about. He'd just completed a purchase he could only have dreamed of 6 months ago, and he was sweating a few journalists. The irony made him smile, which made him look far more relaxed than he felt.
The questions came fast, and Joe's head swam. Where had he gotten the money? Were there other investors? Did he have any experience running teams before? No college degree? Would that put him at a disadvantage? Would the team stay in Kansas City, or did he plan on moving them?
Joe tried to keep up, but his one and two word answers only let the questions queue faster.
Finally, one journalist in the back caught his attention. "You're the youngest team owner in baseball history. What do you think you'll differently, and why?", she asked.
Joe paused to collect his thoughts. He thought about the games he'd seen with Dad. He thought about the thrills he'd felt watching the World Series and the All-Star games. The players he'd looked up to - Rickey Henderson, Joe Carter, Bo Jackson, Nolan Ryan.
He stepped around the podium, slowly but confidently, like a pastor preparing for an alter call.
"I love baseball. Have since I can remember, and probably before that. My dad was a great man, and that's what we shared - baseball. Playing, coaching, watching, analyzing, cheering; we did it all."
"Baseball was about believing. Believing you could get the hit. Believing your team would win the Series. When they didn't, you believed there was always next year."
"It was affordable. It brought communities together. Even during the Great Depression, stadiums were packed with families. Today, I look around and over half the stadium is empty...just like baseball is today."
Joe paused while he fished something out of his coat pocket.
"This is the ball my dad and I played with since I was able to sit up and roll it across the floor to him. It's signed by George Brett and Whitey Herzog. You may have heard of them; they're in the Hall of Fame. The cover's coming off and it's far from the shiny white it was when they signed it. That's because we played baseball with it. Today, someone would simply sell it on eBay and pocket the cash. Then it would sit in a display case on some soulless executive's desk in a gray high rise."
"I want kids to enjoy baseball again, like they used to. I want families to turn off the TV and put down their PlayStation controllers and come to the ballpark. I want them to bond and build memories as fond as mine."
"Baseball used to be the national pastime, and if I have my way, it will be again."
Changeup, Chapter 14
Joe stared at the computer screen.
It was one thing to imagine a sudden windfall. The fancy houses and fast cars, parties and carefree living. It was quite another thing to handle the brass tacks and decide what to really do with it.
He knew most folks with sudden money blew through it in the blink of an eye. He'd been entrusted with too much to want to throw it all away.
He researched lottery winners. Very few could still be thought of us 'winners'. One went bankrupt, got divorced and ended up living in the woods behind the mansion he used to own.
He searched for 'how to spend a fortune'. Basically every article could be summed up with the word 'Carefully'.
Joe sighed and closed the laptop lid. He set the laptop on his coffee table, stood and stretched.
It had been three weeks since he'd gone to a ball game. He'd been focusing on handling the stock certificates. He was burnt out on money matters. Time to relax.
He picked up the phone and dialed Renee.
"Of course I'll go to a ball game with you," she replied. "But I'm worried."
He frowned. "What for?"
"Are we just baseball buddies, Joe?"
He was glad to be on the phone, since his face was now quite red. "I...uh...I'll pick you up in an hour", he stammered.
Driving over, he changed his mind. They'd gone to the minor league games a couple times now. Money wasn't an issue - why not a big league game?
He was whistling as he walked her back to the truck and opened her door.
When he turned toward downtown Kansas City, she finally asked, "Okay, Joe. What do you have up your sleeve?"
"We're seeing the Royals tonight!"
Parking was $10. Joe had never understood paying for parking. It was like buying a ticket for his truck, who didn't care for ball games all that much.
"Got any seats by the third base dugout left?", Joe asked the attendant behind the counter.
"Sure do. That'll be $61", came the response from the microphone.
"We can sit somewhere else," Renee said. "I don't need to sit up close for $60."
"$61," the microphone corrected.
"It's okay," Joe replied. He figured it would take some time before he stopped feeling sticker shock every time he bought something.
"Per ticket", the microphone added.
Joe grinned a grin he did not feel and slid his card under the glass.
"Joe, I don't want you thinking you have to impress me all the time. We can have fun anywhere."
"I appreciate that, but today's special. We're celebrating!"
"Oh? What's the occasion?"
"New opportunities! Fresh starts! Hot dogs!"
$20 later, they each had a beer and a hot dog.
They watched as the Royals took on the White Sox in a pitcher's duel.
"What are you going to do now, Joe?", Renee asked.
"What do you mean?"
"Well, you've been out of work for a while, and it's been a little over a month since...", her voice trailed off, tainted with uncertainty.
"Since Dad", Joe finished. "Well, to be honest, I haven't decided yet. I've mostly been dealing with paperwork and taking care of Mom."
"But you can't do that forever."
"No, I can't. I'm just not sure what's on deck for me."
Their conversation was cut short by a spray of soda and a howl of frustration. A man in the aisle behind them had tripped while returning to his seat. The meal he was trying to bring his family was scattered everywhere.
"I'm sorry! I'm so sorry!"
"It's okay", Joe said. "Here, let us help you clean up."
The man was beet red with anger and embarrassment. His wife was seething.
"I can't believe you did that! Now what are we going to do? Can't afford to buy anything else, and the kids are hungry!"
Joe handed her the rest of his napkins and headed back towards the concessions area for more. After drying himself up a bit, he bought more hot dogs and a couple large sodas.
"Here you go", Joe said as he distributed the food to the grumpy family.
There was a chorus of surprised "Thank you!"s. That seemed to cheer them up, Joe thought.
After he sat back down, the man and his wife began chatting with Joe and Renee.
"Everything's just so expensive these days. I remember when I was a boy, I could see the Yankees play the Dodgers for $2. And a hot dog was a quarter!"
"These days, we can either buy the 'cheap' seats and sit so far up we can't tell what's going on, or we have to pay through the nose to sit here. So we can only afford to go to one game a year."
They commiserated for several innings, telling of favorite players and games.
Joe glanced around the stadium. It wasn't even half full.
What had happened to it? The game he loved. It had no spirit anymore. It was nothing but a machine.
For a moment, Joe felt depressed.
Then a sudden play on the field; the Royal's runner rounding third and charging for home. The crowd on its feet.
And the boy behind him, screaming with unfettered excitement, jumping in anticipation, followed by furious fists of victory.
And Joe knew what he was going to do next.
.
It was one thing to imagine a sudden windfall. The fancy houses and fast cars, parties and carefree living. It was quite another thing to handle the brass tacks and decide what to really do with it.
He knew most folks with sudden money blew through it in the blink of an eye. He'd been entrusted with too much to want to throw it all away.
He researched lottery winners. Very few could still be thought of us 'winners'. One went bankrupt, got divorced and ended up living in the woods behind the mansion he used to own.
He searched for 'how to spend a fortune'. Basically every article could be summed up with the word 'Carefully'.
Joe sighed and closed the laptop lid. He set the laptop on his coffee table, stood and stretched.
It had been three weeks since he'd gone to a ball game. He'd been focusing on handling the stock certificates. He was burnt out on money matters. Time to relax.
He picked up the phone and dialed Renee.
"Of course I'll go to a ball game with you," she replied. "But I'm worried."
He frowned. "What for?"
"Are we just baseball buddies, Joe?"
He was glad to be on the phone, since his face was now quite red. "I...uh...I'll pick you up in an hour", he stammered.
Driving over, he changed his mind. They'd gone to the minor league games a couple times now. Money wasn't an issue - why not a big league game?
He was whistling as he walked her back to the truck and opened her door.
When he turned toward downtown Kansas City, she finally asked, "Okay, Joe. What do you have up your sleeve?"
"We're seeing the Royals tonight!"
Parking was $10. Joe had never understood paying for parking. It was like buying a ticket for his truck, who didn't care for ball games all that much.
"Got any seats by the third base dugout left?", Joe asked the attendant behind the counter.
"Sure do. That'll be $61", came the response from the microphone.
"We can sit somewhere else," Renee said. "I don't need to sit up close for $60."
"$61," the microphone corrected.
"It's okay," Joe replied. He figured it would take some time before he stopped feeling sticker shock every time he bought something.
"Per ticket", the microphone added.
Joe grinned a grin he did not feel and slid his card under the glass.
"Joe, I don't want you thinking you have to impress me all the time. We can have fun anywhere."
"I appreciate that, but today's special. We're celebrating!"
"Oh? What's the occasion?"
"New opportunities! Fresh starts! Hot dogs!"
$20 later, they each had a beer and a hot dog.
They watched as the Royals took on the White Sox in a pitcher's duel.
"What are you going to do now, Joe?", Renee asked.
"What do you mean?"
"Well, you've been out of work for a while, and it's been a little over a month since...", her voice trailed off, tainted with uncertainty.
"Since Dad", Joe finished. "Well, to be honest, I haven't decided yet. I've mostly been dealing with paperwork and taking care of Mom."
"But you can't do that forever."
"No, I can't. I'm just not sure what's on deck for me."
Their conversation was cut short by a spray of soda and a howl of frustration. A man in the aisle behind them had tripped while returning to his seat. The meal he was trying to bring his family was scattered everywhere.
"I'm sorry! I'm so sorry!"
"It's okay", Joe said. "Here, let us help you clean up."
The man was beet red with anger and embarrassment. His wife was seething.
"I can't believe you did that! Now what are we going to do? Can't afford to buy anything else, and the kids are hungry!"
Joe handed her the rest of his napkins and headed back towards the concessions area for more. After drying himself up a bit, he bought more hot dogs and a couple large sodas.
"Here you go", Joe said as he distributed the food to the grumpy family.
There was a chorus of surprised "Thank you!"s. That seemed to cheer them up, Joe thought.
After he sat back down, the man and his wife began chatting with Joe and Renee.
"Everything's just so expensive these days. I remember when I was a boy, I could see the Yankees play the Dodgers for $2. And a hot dog was a quarter!"
"These days, we can either buy the 'cheap' seats and sit so far up we can't tell what's going on, or we have to pay through the nose to sit here. So we can only afford to go to one game a year."
They commiserated for several innings, telling of favorite players and games.
Joe glanced around the stadium. It wasn't even half full.
What had happened to it? The game he loved. It had no spirit anymore. It was nothing but a machine.
For a moment, Joe felt depressed.
Then a sudden play on the field; the Royal's runner rounding third and charging for home. The crowd on its feet.
And the boy behind him, screaming with unfettered excitement, jumping in anticipation, followed by furious fists of victory.
And Joe knew what he was going to do next.
.
Changeup, Chapter 12
"It's all set, Joe."
"Thanks, Mike. I'm glad you're handling this. I wouldn't know who to trust otherwise."
"Known you since you came up to my knee, Joe. I'm glad to help you through this anyway I can. The trust is set up in your name, just like your dad directed in his will."
"What about Mom?"
"He left her his retirement accounts. The house is paid for and she'll receive monthly payments. She's fine."
"I still feel like I'm stealing from her."
Mike laughed.
"Don't, Joe. Your dad wanted it this way."
"But Mom said he thought the stock certificates were worthless."
"He did, at first. Then when he saw me about his retirement accounts, he mentioned them. Said his dad had held on to them as a lesson for him. Never trusted banks or investments after the crash. He lost everything, you know."
"I've heard the stories."
"I told your dad they were worth quite a bit. He said he wanted to leave them to you. Didn't even want to know the amount. Just wanted to know you'd be fine."
"This is crazy. I'll be more than fine!"
Mike laughed again.
"I know, Joe. Have fun."
.
"Thanks, Mike. I'm glad you're handling this. I wouldn't know who to trust otherwise."
"Known you since you came up to my knee, Joe. I'm glad to help you through this anyway I can. The trust is set up in your name, just like your dad directed in his will."
"What about Mom?"
"He left her his retirement accounts. The house is paid for and she'll receive monthly payments. She's fine."
"I still feel like I'm stealing from her."
Mike laughed.
"Don't, Joe. Your dad wanted it this way."
"But Mom said he thought the stock certificates were worthless."
"He did, at first. Then when he saw me about his retirement accounts, he mentioned them. Said his dad had held on to them as a lesson for him. Never trusted banks or investments after the crash. He lost everything, you know."
"I've heard the stories."
"I told your dad they were worth quite a bit. He said he wanted to leave them to you. Didn't even want to know the amount. Just wanted to know you'd be fine."
"This is crazy. I'll be more than fine!"
Mike laughed again.
"I know, Joe. Have fun."
.
Changeup, Chapter 11
Joe stared vacantly at the pitcher's mound.
He had no idea what the score was. Wasn't even paying attention to who was in the field and who was batting.
He'd come to the game out of habit, mostly. The ballpark always took his mind off things, but not today.
He hadn't even realized he'd brought the glove, but there it was on his hand. Still smelled of the oil Dad rubbed into it twice a year. Floppy with age, but sustained with care.
It was the most valuable item in his dusty box of treasures.
The crack of the bat didn't snap him out of his brooding, but the excited jabbers of those around him did. He looked up to see a foul ball hurtling at him. He only had time to stand up halfway before he instinctively snatched it out of the sky.
A few folks clapped, as they always did, but Joe didn't notice. Didn't even smile as he fell back into his seat.
"Nice catch!"
Renee plopped into the seat next to him.
"Howdy, stranger."
It was only a little, but now Joe smiled.
"Gotcha something", he said. He held the ball up to Renee.
"Aw, you shouldn't have." She grabbed the ball, gently brushing his hand with hers, then tossed it in the air and caught it. "I'll bet you have a hundred of these."
"Actually, I've never caught one before. Been to more games than I can count at more parks than I remember, and this is the first one."
"And yet you gave it up so easily?"
He grinned, a little wider this time.
"I could use the company, and I was afraid you wouldn't stay otherwise. Had to bribe you."
"An excellent bribe, Joe. A hot dog just might seal the deal."
--
They laughed as they ate, ketchup smearing on chins and innings passing far too quickly.
Joe told her about his dad. Learning to throw. Mustering the courage to catch. Learning strategy as they drank a Slurpee and watched the Saturday afternoon game on TV once the weeds were pulled and the grass cut.
Renee recounted similar stories. Daddy-daughter dates at this very ballpark. She remembered asking her daddy why the batter struck out when he'd managed to foul off a pitch and learning that's how bunts worked with two strikes.
Joe recalled watching Kirk Gibson limp around the bases in the 88 World Series, pumping his fist after his game-winning home run. "You just saw history, Son", Dad had said.
Once, Renee had impressed a group of old men with her baseball knowledge. She was only 6, but was yelling louder than they were after a particularly bad squeeze play. The batter had tipped the bunt straight up, easily letting the catcher make a double play and dashing her team's hope of a tying run.
"BAT up, BALL down on a bunt!" she'd screamed.
The old guys loved it so much she'd spent the rest of the game chatting with them and hollering at the umps.
Joe and Renee hardly looked up until the 7th inning stretch. They sang "Take Me Out to the Ballgame" at the top of their lungs.
As they sat back down, foolish grins on their faces, Renee picked up the glove.
"Was this your dad's?"
Joe nodded. His grin was gone.
Renee instantly realized.
"I'm so sorry, Joe. How long has he been gone?"
"Two weeks."
She said nothing. Just put her arm around his shoulder while he stared into left field.
.
He had no idea what the score was. Wasn't even paying attention to who was in the field and who was batting.
He'd come to the game out of habit, mostly. The ballpark always took his mind off things, but not today.
He hadn't even realized he'd brought the glove, but there it was on his hand. Still smelled of the oil Dad rubbed into it twice a year. Floppy with age, but sustained with care.
It was the most valuable item in his dusty box of treasures.
The crack of the bat didn't snap him out of his brooding, but the excited jabbers of those around him did. He looked up to see a foul ball hurtling at him. He only had time to stand up halfway before he instinctively snatched it out of the sky.
A few folks clapped, as they always did, but Joe didn't notice. Didn't even smile as he fell back into his seat.
"Nice catch!"
Renee plopped into the seat next to him.
"Howdy, stranger."
It was only a little, but now Joe smiled.
"Gotcha something", he said. He held the ball up to Renee.
"Aw, you shouldn't have." She grabbed the ball, gently brushing his hand with hers, then tossed it in the air and caught it. "I'll bet you have a hundred of these."
"Actually, I've never caught one before. Been to more games than I can count at more parks than I remember, and this is the first one."
"And yet you gave it up so easily?"
He grinned, a little wider this time.
"I could use the company, and I was afraid you wouldn't stay otherwise. Had to bribe you."
"An excellent bribe, Joe. A hot dog just might seal the deal."
--
They laughed as they ate, ketchup smearing on chins and innings passing far too quickly.
Joe told her about his dad. Learning to throw. Mustering the courage to catch. Learning strategy as they drank a Slurpee and watched the Saturday afternoon game on TV once the weeds were pulled and the grass cut.
Renee recounted similar stories. Daddy-daughter dates at this very ballpark. She remembered asking her daddy why the batter struck out when he'd managed to foul off a pitch and learning that's how bunts worked with two strikes.
Joe recalled watching Kirk Gibson limp around the bases in the 88 World Series, pumping his fist after his game-winning home run. "You just saw history, Son", Dad had said.
Once, Renee had impressed a group of old men with her baseball knowledge. She was only 6, but was yelling louder than they were after a particularly bad squeeze play. The batter had tipped the bunt straight up, easily letting the catcher make a double play and dashing her team's hope of a tying run.
"BAT up, BALL down on a bunt!" she'd screamed.
The old guys loved it so much she'd spent the rest of the game chatting with them and hollering at the umps.
Joe and Renee hardly looked up until the 7th inning stretch. They sang "Take Me Out to the Ballgame" at the top of their lungs.
As they sat back down, foolish grins on their faces, Renee picked up the glove.
"Was this your dad's?"
Joe nodded. His grin was gone.
Renee instantly realized.
"I'm so sorry, Joe. How long has he been gone?"
"Two weeks."
She said nothing. Just put her arm around his shoulder while he stared into left field.
.
Changeup, Chapter 10
Joe placed the box on the coffee table next to the no-longer-steaming mugs and lifted the lid.
On top was Dad's old baseball glove. Joe picked it up and reflexively slipped his hand inside. He felt the familiar worn leather, smelling of sweat, oil and grass. The smells of baseball. Dad had bought the glove at a garage sale for a nickel when he was a boy. It was too big for him then, but he'd used it his whole life, even up through his two short years in the AA minor leagues.
He slowly set the glove down next to the box as he continued through its contents like an absent-minded archaeologist. There were some papers he'd look through later and a photo album of Joe's early years. Then he saw it.
The ball.
The one he'd rolled back and forth with Dad when he was too small for a glove. The one he'd eventually learned to catch and throw with in the back yard. The one that was signed by Whitey Herzog, but had been used so much the cover was coming off. He'd once asked Dad why he used the ball when it had a Hall of Famer's autograph, which was now nothing but a few scratches on the leather.
"Because it's a ball, not Whitey himself!", his dad had said, laughing.
Joe slowly came back into the moment. He'd been staring at the ball, turning it over and over in his hand.
He picked up an envelope from the stack of assorted papers. He opened it gingerly since it seemed very old.
"What's this?", he asked Mom.
"Old stock certificates from your great-grandfather. They've been passed down for ages."
Joe looked at the five sheets of brittle paper in his hands.
"Do you know what this is worth, Mom?"
"Probably not much. There's only a couple of them."
"That's all it takes", said Joe.
At the top of each sheet were the words "General Electric Company".
They were dated 1892.
What old treasures have you found?
.
On top was Dad's old baseball glove. Joe picked it up and reflexively slipped his hand inside. He felt the familiar worn leather, smelling of sweat, oil and grass. The smells of baseball. Dad had bought the glove at a garage sale for a nickel when he was a boy. It was too big for him then, but he'd used it his whole life, even up through his two short years in the AA minor leagues.
He slowly set the glove down next to the box as he continued through its contents like an absent-minded archaeologist. There were some papers he'd look through later and a photo album of Joe's early years. Then he saw it.
The ball.
The one he'd rolled back and forth with Dad when he was too small for a glove. The one he'd eventually learned to catch and throw with in the back yard. The one that was signed by Whitey Herzog, but had been used so much the cover was coming off. He'd once asked Dad why he used the ball when it had a Hall of Famer's autograph, which was now nothing but a few scratches on the leather.
"Because it's a ball, not Whitey himself!", his dad had said, laughing.
Joe slowly came back into the moment. He'd been staring at the ball, turning it over and over in his hand.
He picked up an envelope from the stack of assorted papers. He opened it gingerly since it seemed very old.
"What's this?", he asked Mom.
"Old stock certificates from your great-grandfather. They've been passed down for ages."
Joe looked at the five sheets of brittle paper in his hands.
"Do you know what this is worth, Mom?"
"Probably not much. There's only a couple of them."
"That's all it takes", said Joe.
At the top of each sheet were the words "General Electric Company".
They were dated 1892.
What old treasures have you found?
.
Changeup, Chapter 9
He'd driven all night. He'd been worried about falling asleep at the wheel, but it ended up not being lack of sleep that left his eyes tired and dry.
His mom was waiting as he pulled into the driveway. The lawn where he'd tossed the ball with Dad every evening of every summer was overgrown.
She fell into his arms. He held her up, both of them crying with no tears left to fall.
"I'm sorry, Mom. I'm so sorry."
He helped her up the steps and through the door. He eased her down onto the couch and sat down in the armchair next to her.
"It was so quick, Joe. He was fine, then he was sick, then it was...over."
"I know. We didn't see it coming."
"He did, Joe. He's known for a year. It was the cancer. He never told me about it."
Joe sat for a moment in stunned silence. After a while, it sank in and no longer surprised him.
"That's how Dad was, Mom. Never wanted to worry anybody. Thought it was his job to watch out for everyone, not the other way around."
"So foolish! But the doctor said it would have been too late anyway."
"Then it was his choice."
"Not his choice to make!"
Joe didn't know what to say to that. He sat with his hand on Mom's arm for a moment while she choked back angry sobs.
Then they sat in silence, two survivors holding on after the storm.
After a few minutes, Joe quietly got up and headed to the kitchen. He started a pot of coffee and put a few dishes in the washer while it brewed.
He placed the mugs on the table in front of them, steam rushing to disappear a few inches above the rim.
"Joe, I have some things for you."
Joe looked at the banker's box Mom was handing him. The box had 'JOE' written on the side in neat black Sharpie. He recognized Dad's writing immediately. He hadn't noticed the box earlier. Mom must have retrieved it while he was in the kitchen. He glanced at her quizzically.
"A few things he wanted you to have, Joe. He's kept this box for years. Said he'd give it to you when your were ready."
Joe blew dust off the lid and stared at it for a moment.
"I guess that's now, Joe."
What's inside?
.
His mom was waiting as he pulled into the driveway. The lawn where he'd tossed the ball with Dad every evening of every summer was overgrown.
She fell into his arms. He held her up, both of them crying with no tears left to fall.
"I'm sorry, Mom. I'm so sorry."
He helped her up the steps and through the door. He eased her down onto the couch and sat down in the armchair next to her.
"It was so quick, Joe. He was fine, then he was sick, then it was...over."
"I know. We didn't see it coming."
"He did, Joe. He's known for a year. It was the cancer. He never told me about it."
Joe sat for a moment in stunned silence. After a while, it sank in and no longer surprised him.
"That's how Dad was, Mom. Never wanted to worry anybody. Thought it was his job to watch out for everyone, not the other way around."
"So foolish! But the doctor said it would have been too late anyway."
"Then it was his choice."
"Not his choice to make!"
Joe didn't know what to say to that. He sat with his hand on Mom's arm for a moment while she choked back angry sobs.
Then they sat in silence, two survivors holding on after the storm.
After a few minutes, Joe quietly got up and headed to the kitchen. He started a pot of coffee and put a few dishes in the washer while it brewed.
He placed the mugs on the table in front of them, steam rushing to disappear a few inches above the rim.
"Joe, I have some things for you."
Joe looked at the banker's box Mom was handing him. The box had 'JOE' written on the side in neat black Sharpie. He recognized Dad's writing immediately. He hadn't noticed the box earlier. Mom must have retrieved it while he was in the kitchen. He glanced at her quizzically.
"A few things he wanted you to have, Joe. He's kept this box for years. Said he'd give it to you when your were ready."
Joe blew dust off the lid and stared at it for a moment.
"I guess that's now, Joe."
What's inside?
.
Changeup, Chapter 8
To read the first 7 chapters, click the Changeup link above.
--
Joe’s phone rang.
"Hello?"
"Hi, Joe. It's mom."
Joe's heart sank. Her voice was shaking, and he knew. Knew it in the pit of his stomach. He sank onto the bar stool near his kitchen counter.
"Mom, what's wrong?"
"It's Dad, Joe." She choked back a sob and struggled on. "He died last night, Joe."
Dad had been sick all last week, but Joe hadn't thought it was that bad.
"I...I thought he had a cold..."
"Joe, Dad's been sick for a while. He had cancer. He didn't want us worrying about him, so he never told any of us."
Joe sat for what seemed forever, staring at his kitchen floor. What were they going to do now? He was mildly surprised by the tears hitting the linoleum. Hadn't noticed he was crying.
"I need you here, Joe. I need you. There's some things we have to take care of, and I don't think I can do them alone."
Joe sat in stunned silence. He'd always meant to tile that floor.
"Joe?"
He inhaled sharply as his mom's voice snapped him back to the present.
"Come home, Joe."
He hung up the phone, moving in slow motion. He was dizzy and there was a rock in his throat and he felt lost. He slid to the floor and hugged his knees.
"Don't give up, Joe. 0-2 doesn't mean you're done yet. Get back in the box."
.
--
Joe’s phone rang.
"Hello?"
"Hi, Joe. It's mom."
Joe's heart sank. Her voice was shaking, and he knew. Knew it in the pit of his stomach. He sank onto the bar stool near his kitchen counter.
"Mom, what's wrong?"
"It's Dad, Joe." She choked back a sob and struggled on. "He died last night, Joe."
Dad had been sick all last week, but Joe hadn't thought it was that bad.
"I...I thought he had a cold..."
"Joe, Dad's been sick for a while. He had cancer. He didn't want us worrying about him, so he never told any of us."
Joe sat for what seemed forever, staring at his kitchen floor. What were they going to do now? He was mildly surprised by the tears hitting the linoleum. Hadn't noticed he was crying.
"I need you here, Joe. I need you. There's some things we have to take care of, and I don't think I can do them alone."
Joe sat in stunned silence. He'd always meant to tile that floor.
"Joe?"
He inhaled sharply as his mom's voice snapped him back to the present.
"Come home, Joe."
He hung up the phone, moving in slow motion. He was dizzy and there was a rock in his throat and he felt lost. He slid to the floor and hugged his knees.
"Don't give up, Joe. 0-2 doesn't mean you're done yet. Get back in the box."
.
Changeup, Chapter 7
Joe had no idea what he was going to do.
He wasn't going to beg Chester for his job back. He didn't care how desperate he got; he wasn't going back there.
Desperate was strong and Desperate was near. He had to think of something, and quick.
But first he had a ball game to attend.
He had almost forgotten Jim's invitation, but as he sulked and worried around the house, he remembered. It would be a welcome distraction, although it would do nothing to change his situation.
Joe parked his truck and walked toward the stadium. Guess he'd have to drive the old thing a bit longer.
Joe saw Jim waiting for him near the ticket counter. Jim gave a nod and raised one hand in acknowledgement.
"I didn't know whether you'd show up", Jim said as they made their way to their seats.
"Are you kidding? It's a ball game!"
"I like your outlook on life!"
The first inning was already in progress as they made their way to their seats. Joe made his way down a row and glanced at his ticket. Someone was in his seat. He hated that. Couldn't people read?
He tapped the ball cap of the guy in his row.
"Excuse me. I believe you have my seat."
The cap looked up. Joe found himself looking into a bottomless set of green eyes.
"Joe, I'd like you to meet my daughter, Renee."
Joe was speechless.
"Pleased to meet you", said Renee. "Now sit down so I can see!"
Joe sat as he heard the crack of the bat. He looked up and saw a lazy fly ball head toward left field. It was an easy catch for the second out of the inning, but it was a bit deep which allowed the runner on first to advance to second. Two down.
Joe clapped.
"Don't get your hopes up", Renee said.
"But now we have a runner in scoring position!"
"Won't matter. That's Carlos Probanogo. I can run faster than he can. It'll take an extra bases hit to bring him around."
"Have a little faith!" Joe retorted.
The next batter singled to left, but Probanogo stayed put. Runners on first and second.
The next at-bat yielded a sharp grounder down the line. The third baseman trapped it and waited for Probonago to make it to the bag so he could slap the tag on him.
"Ok, so he has no speed. But that was plain mean; he could have just stepped on the bag. Didn't need to wait for him!"
"He was just proving my point!"
They ended up winning the game 4-2. Joe hadn't had that much fun watching a game in a long time. Renee was a firecracker.
What do you think so far?
.
He wasn't going to beg Chester for his job back. He didn't care how desperate he got; he wasn't going back there.
Desperate was strong and Desperate was near. He had to think of something, and quick.
But first he had a ball game to attend.
He had almost forgotten Jim's invitation, but as he sulked and worried around the house, he remembered. It would be a welcome distraction, although it would do nothing to change his situation.
Joe parked his truck and walked toward the stadium. Guess he'd have to drive the old thing a bit longer.
Joe saw Jim waiting for him near the ticket counter. Jim gave a nod and raised one hand in acknowledgement.
"I didn't know whether you'd show up", Jim said as they made their way to their seats.
"Are you kidding? It's a ball game!"
"I like your outlook on life!"
The first inning was already in progress as they made their way to their seats. Joe made his way down a row and glanced at his ticket. Someone was in his seat. He hated that. Couldn't people read?
He tapped the ball cap of the guy in his row.
"Excuse me. I believe you have my seat."
The cap looked up. Joe found himself looking into a bottomless set of green eyes.
"Joe, I'd like you to meet my daughter, Renee."
Joe was speechless.
"Pleased to meet you", said Renee. "Now sit down so I can see!"
Joe sat as he heard the crack of the bat. He looked up and saw a lazy fly ball head toward left field. It was an easy catch for the second out of the inning, but it was a bit deep which allowed the runner on first to advance to second. Two down.
Joe clapped.
"Don't get your hopes up", Renee said.
"But now we have a runner in scoring position!"
"Won't matter. That's Carlos Probanogo. I can run faster than he can. It'll take an extra bases hit to bring him around."
"Have a little faith!" Joe retorted.
The next batter singled to left, but Probanogo stayed put. Runners on first and second.
The next at-bat yielded a sharp grounder down the line. The third baseman trapped it and waited for Probonago to make it to the bag so he could slap the tag on him.
"Ok, so he has no speed. But that was plain mean; he could have just stepped on the bag. Didn't need to wait for him!"
"He was just proving my point!"
They ended up winning the game 4-2. Joe hadn't had that much fun watching a game in a long time. Renee was a firecracker.
What do you think so far?
.
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