Big League Dreams

Big League Dreams: Chapter 05

I started this story a while ago, before COVID-19 and before the likely contraction of baseball's minor leagues. So, it exists in a fantasy world where these things didn't happen.

I hope that the quality of the story allows you to ignore that.

Also, while I never specifically say what baseball organization is featured, it is based on one team, which is pretty obvious, especially if you have read some of my earlier stories.

But I've taken liberties with locations of minor league teams, and my descriptions of the minor league cities and towns are completely fictional.

I'd suggest reading the prior chapters to understand what's going on.

This is the conclusion. Thanks for reading and for your positive feedback!

Jason called me in for a meeting when I arrived at spring training after further improving my strength and flexibility during the offseason. He told me, frankly, that while I was likely to head north with the major league team, nothing was certain, which I understood. Having come close last season, there was an emphasis on winning while we had this strong team together, because, as always, players get hurt, or leave as free agents or in trades, so every game was considered important.

He made it clear that he believed that I had the ability to have a full major league season, as long as I was able to keep my focus. Considering that it didn't seem like I'd have Erin to distract me, a fact that I confided to him, I assured my coach that my head would be in every game, for every pitch.

I had a successful spring, and the team really seemed focused as we headed north with one goal in mind—not just making the playoffs, but winning a World Series. Unfortunately, my professional success was not mirrored by personal success. Although Erin and I started the separation talking and texting regularly, that faded away, to the point that it had been a couple of weeks since we had been in contact before we headed out of Florida to start the season.

My agent (yes, I had one), arranged for me to rent a comfortable, but not crazy expensive furnished apartment not too far from the stadium, in a complex that had a pool and a gym among other amenities, which was perfect for my "lifestyle." Still hoping to work things out with Erin, I wasn't planning on partying or scouring the bars for women. My plan was to focus on my work and avoid distractions.

And that's how thing worked out initially. The team played well, I filled my role adequately, and we were in the hunt for a playoff spot. I essentially shuttled between my apartment and the stadium, occasionally joining the guys for a beer, and even heading into the city for the occasional night out. Sadly, Erin refused both of my invitations, one to come to the city, and the other to come on a road trip, pleading that she was too busy, but I could read the signs and stopped trying. This time, when we went to L.A., I had dinner with Allison one night after a day game, and she told me about the job she had gotten with the team after graduation. She must have done well at college and impressed the front office during her internships, because those jobs were hard to get.

In late July, we had a stretch where our starters couldn't get out of early trouble, compounded by a couple of extra inning games. Jason called me into his office, which was concerning, since I had been pitching well, and had even stretched out and thrown multiple innings a few times when we needed it.

"Hey, Ray, look, sit down," he said, pointing at the couch. I could tell that nothing good was up. I knew that if I had been traded, Teo would have been the one to tell me, so I had a bad feeling where this was going. "Look, I'm sorry, but we need a fresh arm up here, and since you have options left, we sorta have to send you down for a bit."

"I kinda figured," I replied flatly.

"Yeah. It isn't anything about the way you're pitching at all. You're doing great. It's just a numbers thing. It'll only be for two weeks—the minimum is 15 days to be precise, unless, god forbid, someone gets hurt and we can bring you back earlier."

"Trust me, I'm not gonna wish for that."

"I know that you're not that kind of guy. And after that, I promise you'll be right back here. You have my word."

"OK, thanks, I guess."

"Ray, this happened to me a couple of times early in my career. It's no biggie. They will be given strict instructions on how to use you, so that you are ready to get right back to it when we call you back up."

"Makes sense, I guess. When do I go?"

"Today. Your replacement is arriving soon, so your clock starts to run today. Go home, pack a couple of bags, and Adam will email you your boarding pass. There's a suite at the Marriott waiting for you, but head straight to the park for tonight's game."

"OK." What more could I say? This totally sucked, although it was at least better than being designated for assignment and getting taken off the major league roster, or being traded. I'd have to deal with it, and come back strong. I stood up to leave.

"Ray," Jason said softly. "Don't let it get you down. And don't give anyone a reason to leave you there. We need you here for the stretch."

Jason's confidence in me and support was a major reason why I stuck in the big leagues, or at least that's what I thought. "I appreciate it, man. See you in fifteen days."

"Fifteen days, buddy."

I left, gathered up my equipment and in a daze called a car to take me home.

After gathering my stuff, I got a car to the airport, which was nearby, and while I was waiting for the plane, I checked the schedule for the AAA team on my phone. Figuring that I might as well take a shot, I texted Erin. "Getting sent down to AAA for two weeks. Roster issue, nothing bad. Can I see you? We have a day game Sunday, so dinner, maybe?"

If waiting for a flight from New York to a small upstate city because you are being demoted would make time seem to run slowly, waiting for a text from your maybe girlfriend made it run even slower.

It seemed like days before my phone dinged. "Yeah, sure, Ray. Sunday dinner at the burger place? 7:00 at the bar for a beer first? And sorry."

That seemed pretty cold, but at least she was meeting me. As someone who no one ever thought would make it as a ballplayer, I knew about hope.

*

Remarkably, there were only a handful of familiar faces when I got to the stadium. Most of the guys I played with had either been promoted, traded or released, which is common at the AAA level. But there were enough people I knew to give me some level of comfort. And for the most part, the reaction that I got was, "good to see you, sorry about this, and what's it like up there?" I promised myself that I wouldn't be one of those major leaguers who refused to try to fit in because they thought they were better than their situation, so I answered everyone's questions. And because I was told that I wouldn't be used that night, I was relaxed, but still went through my pregame routine of running and stretching, because strange things sometimes happened and you had to be ready.

Frankly, all I cared about was not fucking up and not getting hurt. OK, actually, what I cared about was seeing Erin on Sunday.

In retrospect, I should have seen it coming.

Eager as I was, I got to the bar early, and caught up with Gerry, who I hadn't seen since I left town the last time. He was happy for my success, and sympathetic about my hopefully minor detour.

"So, you and Erin? Still going strong?" he asked while wiping down the bar with a white towel that had seen better days.

I shrugged. "I don't think so, Gerry. But I'm gonna find out soon, I think."

Gerry stopped wiping the bar and looked at me. "Sorry, man. What's the problem?"

"The problem is that I'm hopefully going to be pitching in the city for a while, and she doesn't want to come."

"Why not? I figure anyone would want to get outta this place."

"Her grandma's not well, her brother needs help, and her school and work are here."

"And obviously, you're not gonna turn down the big league to stay here."

"Obviously."

With the wisdom of a bartender, Gerry looked in my eyes. "Ray, my mother always used to say, 'if it's meant to be, it's meant to be.'"

I nodded and took a drink from my beer. "I love her, Gerry, but you're right. It might not work."

"And if it isn't Erin, Ray, there's someone out there for you. You're a good guy."

"Thanks, man. I appreciate it." I lifted my glass to him in a toast, and he gestured with his head toward the door, indicating that Erin was here.

I turned to see her. I'd like to say that she looked amazing, but honestly, she looked tired and sad. I mean, she was still beautiful, but I could tell that she hadn't slept much, and was feeling the weight of the world on the strong, gorgeous shoulders that I missed rubbing. My stomach dropped, because I knew what was about to happen.

She waved when she saw me, and she smiled, but there was no joy in it. I met her by a table, and we awkwardly kissed, a further indication of bad things to come.

"Beer?" She nodded and I waved to Gerry, who brought Erin a draft. We sat at a small table.

"Erin." I started, but she interrupted.

"Let me, Ray." I nodded. "Ray, I've never felt about anyone the way I feel about you. You're the first guy I really let inside my defenses. But my place is here. With Grandma, and Sean, and my research and teaching. And your place is there. Most of the year in the city or on the road, and a couple of months between seasons. I wish I could be like the other girlfriends or wives, and be there for you. For us." She paused, and used a napkin to blot her eyes. "And it won't work from a distance. I can see how we pull apart when we're not together. So, I think that we just need to make a clean break."

I felt myself tearing up. "Erin, you know that I love you. And I want us to be together, and I can't see how that works, unless you move with me. Bring Grandma and Sean. We can get a house on Long Island. We can figure it out." I used my napkin to wipe the tears from my own eyes.

She shook her head, slowly, and I couldn't help but admire the way that her hair swung back and forth. "You know that won't work, but I appreciate it, Ray." She took my hand and squeezed it. "I love you too, Ray. And that's why I have to do this." She stood up, turned around and walked out the door.

It was as if the whole world disappeared as I watched her walk away from me. I didn't notice the music on the jukebox or the sound of the other customers talking. I'm not sure how long I stared at the door after it closed behind her.

"Ray? You OK?"

Gerry was tapping my shoulder and holding a fresh beer. "On the house, Ray."

"Thanks, Gerry. It's over."

"Yeah, I figured as much. Sorry."

"Thanks." I took a drink as Gerry went back to the bar. And I continued to drink, watching the door, although I knew in my heart that I'd never see Erin Connelly again.

*

As promised, I was back in the majors 15 days after being sent down, and I vowed never to let that happen again, options or no options. When I got back, we were still in the race, and between my focus not to get sent back again, and the lack of any romantic distractions, I pitched well, and helped the team most times that I pitched—or at least didn't hurt them. Although I mostly spent my free time alone, I started to hang out occasionally with the other single guys, and I'll admit to a couple of one night stands when my needs and a good opportunity coincided. But, to be fair, it was always pretty easy for a professional athlete to find someone willing to share your bed. I promised myself not to get entangled again, not to fall in love again, so that I wouldn't have my heart broken again.

I got to pitch in the playoffs, on a national broadcast, and I pitched well and the team won the game. But we lost the series in the seventh game, and that was that. Our quest for the World Series ended, on our opponent's field, on a weak single off a great pitch by Fonzie that plated the winning run. Which goes to show the difference between success and failure in anything can sometimes be small. And it was painful watching the joyful celebration going on as we trudged dejectedly off the field.

I decided to stay in the city for the offseason and not work, other than continuing to improve my fitness and flexibility. Although the city can be harsh during the winter, there are times, especially during the holidays, that it is beautiful and exciting, if crowded with tourists. Occasionally, I'd think about how much fun it would have been with Erin, or some other woman, but I quickly banished that thought. Certainly, I never would have wanted to spend that time with any of the occasional women who passed through my bedroom during the offseason.

Spring training approached, and I decided to report early. There was nothing keeping me in the city, and I figured that I might as well go where it was warm, get in some work, and maybe impress management with my eagerness. Although comfortable at that point with my place on the team, you really never know. I checked into the hotel and drove my rental car to the training facility to check in. Some of the other guys were there, but it was more relaxed than it would be when the rest of the pitchers and catchers reported.

Jason and I had a nice chat about goals and plans, and then I changed, and went out to do some running and maybe some light throwing. As I was jogging down the first base line, I heard a familiar voice yelling, "Ray. Ray Poole." I looked over to the sideline, and to my utter shock, there was Allison Pullman, dressed in shorts that showed off what were objectively attractive, athletic legs, a team staff golf shirt, sunglasses and a baseball cap with her ponytail sticking out the back. Honestly, even if I didn't know who she was, I definitely still would have given her a second look.

I jogged over. "What are you doing here?"

She gave me a stunning smile. "I had a great year with the Dodgers. But Mom isn't doing well—"

"What's the matter?" I interrupted.

"Breast cancer, Ray. And it isn't good." Her smile had turned into sadness.

"I'm sorry. She's such a great woman."

"Yeah, I know. I don't think I appreciated it when I was a kid."

"We never do, Allison. You can't beat yourself up."

She nodded. "Anyway, I wanted to be on the East Coast, to be closer, but the only team that had a spot for me was this one. And, OK, Dad made a few calls."

"There's nothing wrong with using connections in this world."

"I guess. So I thought I'd surprise you. Didn't know you were coming early."

"Yeah, I had nothing to keep me in the cold, so I figured I might as well report early."

She looked at me intently. "So, you and Erin?"

I looked down at my shoes. "It's over. She wouldn't move to the city and of course, I wouldn't stay in the minors, by choice at least. And we never did well at a distance."

"I'm sorry, Ray. She was nice."

"Yeah." I paused, and changed the subject. "What exactly are you doing for the team?"

"My title is 'Administrative Assistant, Baseball Operations,' which really means that I do whatever needs to be done, I guess. Similar to what I did with LA last year. The goal is to work hard, learn, and maybe make the occasional suggestion that people like."

"That's great, Allison. I'm really proud of you."

"Thanks. You've actually been an inspiration to me."

"Really?"

"Yeah. I mean, when I met you, you were a marginal prospect at best, right?"

"Right."

"But you worked hard, used your brains. And my pitch," she added, smiling, "And you made it to the majors. I know how hard it is for a woman to make it in baseball, but I'm determined to do what I need to become a GM."

I began to see Allison in another light. She wasn't the teenager who went from sullen to flighty and back all the time. She was an adult, with brains, a dream, and a plan, and she had put herself on the path to achieve it. Or at least something close. "Allison—wanna grab dinner tonight? We can really catch up, and you can tell me more about your mom and dad."

She pulled out her phone and checked her schedule. "Yeah, that would be great, Ray. My nights are generally quiet, at least until the official reporting day." She paused. "I gotta go. Text me when you are ready, and we can figure something out."

"Sounds good, Allison. See you later." I jogged off, and Allison headed up the steps to the concourse, presumably to attend to some menial task reserved for the most junior person on the staff.

When I met Allison at a casual restaurant that wasn't too far from my hotel, I did a little double take. I had realized before that she had become a pretty woman, but she seemed more put together. Her clothes seemed nicer and fit her better, her hair, no longer covered by a cap, was cut in a flattering way, and she wore a small amount of makeup.

"You look great, Allison," I said after we had a chaste hug and air kiss.

She looked down. "Thanks. Aida Moreno, the highest ranking woman in the Dodgers organization, said to me last year, that if I wanted to be a baseball executive, I needed to dress the part."

"Dress for the job you want, not the job you have, right?"

She smiled, "That's exactly what Brenda said. And she gave me some fashion pointers, and other stuff."

"Well, whatever she told you, worked. I'd hire you for my front office," I said, smiling. Of course, I thought, if she had the job she wanted, she'd be my boss, and not vice versa.

We sat down for dinner, out on the terrace, because it was a comfortable night, and the waitress came to take our drink orders.

"I have a glass of Chardonnay," Allison ordered. Noticing my raised eyebrows, she said to me, "Ray, I'm 22 years old."

"That seems about right, Allison, but it's still a little strange for me." She shrugged, since how I felt about her legally drinking was immaterial.

I ordered a local craft beer, and we began poring over the menu and discussing our choices.

When the waitress returned with our drinks, Allison ordered a complicated looking salad with grilled chicken, and I went for a small steak with roasted veggies on the side.

"So, tell me about your parents."

"I guess the big thing is mom's cancer." She looked sad. "She was feeling tired, she went to the doctor and got diagnosed. Apparently, there's not much to do, although there are some treatments that could keep her active for a while, but eventually, um, you know."

"I'm really sorry, Allison," I reached out and put my hand over hers to comfort her, and gave it a squeeze before pulling back. "Your mom was always so nice to me. Make sure you tell her I say 'hi."

"I will, Ray." She took a sip of wine to steady herself. "Dad is slowly retiring so that he can spend time with Mom. He's giving more and more responsibility to his senior managers. He and Mom are going to try to take a trip to France, if she's up to it."

"That would be nice for them, I think."

"Yeah, they've never been to Europe. Neither have I, actually."

"I went once, with some college friends after junior year. It was fun." I took a sip of beer. "Did your Dad ever discuss you taking over the business?"

She got a funny look on her face. "When I was in college, he kind of broached the subject, y'know, without ever directly asking me. But I told him flat out that my dream was in baseball, and he understood it, and never pressed me." She paused, thinking. "I mean, when I thought about it a little, I realized that when they're both gone, I could end up as the owner, and since I don't have any interest in owning a textile factory, it's better off being run by people who do."