SILAS
“Ready, Coach?”Ricky asked me as he bounced back and forth on his feet. The roar of the opening day crowd, not quite at capacity from what I could tell when I had peeked, was loud as the announcer introduced the Bats one by one.
Opening day at the first home game was always a lot of ceremony. Special guests singing the anthem after a big introduction for all of us as we ran onto the field, followed by our manager. My old manager in Washington had always joked that while we jogged onto the field, he could trot since no one was paying attention to him by the time it was his turn to be introduced.
How I wished I could trot with no eyes on me today, which was stupid since I’d jogged on to a field at the start of every baseball season for all my adult life. Fans were part of the package—an important one—but while I’d heard nothing but excitement today, I already felt the scrutiny from all the pairs of eyes that would watch me join my team.
“You should be first,” Chris, our catcher, said next to me as the guys headed to the field and lined up by the dugout.
“Yeah, Coach. Our famous manager,” Adrian, our pitcher for today’s game, joked as he nudged my shoulder.
For a group of guys I’d only known for a matter of weeks, I’d clicked with them pretty well. I was still navigating the manager dynamic, trying to be encouraging yet honest about what I expected from each of them and what I noticed they could capitalize on or improve upon, but they were young enough not to be swayed by ego and excited to play.
At least,mostweren’t swayed by ego.
I caught a glare from Nate before it was his turn, as he bobbed up and down, swinging his arms in and out before he ran onto the grass. I wasn’t sure if he was antsy, annoyed at the connections I’d made with the other players, or just in silent pain with his shoulder and trying to stretch it out without being noticed.
I could only keep an eye on it today and hope Nate and his shoulder wouldn’t be a hindrance to the team.
“I wonder what song they’ll use for the reel,” Chris said with a smirk tipping the side of his mouth.
“Guys, stay off Instagram,” I growled but bit back a smile.
“Try to give us a good lead before you head out there,” Adrian said. “If we get caught in the shot, we may go viral too. Not sure if I’m ready for that kind of fame yet.”
“Same, dude,” Chris said, pressing a hand to his chest.
“Let’s go,” I said, shoving Chris’s shoulder. “We’ve got a game to play.”
The reels didn’t bother me, or they didn’t bother me as much since I’d learned to laugh at them. My team, other than one cranky player, took me seriously and, so far, respected my opinion. If whatever popularity I still had sold more tickets, I was willing to play it up in the name of revenue for the good of the team.
I’d loved and hated the rush of opening day. The surge of adrenaline as I prepped for another season and prayed I coulddeliver the same or more than I had the previous year to show I still had it.
Now, I was going out there attempting to prove I’d had it in the first place.
I waved to the crowd as I ran out, smiling at all the fans on their feet holding signs for us. I caught a couple of signs with my name on them but didn’t try to read what they said.
If they mentioned my ass, I’d hear about it later anyway.
I slipped off my hat and held it over my heart as the anthem began. I scanned the crowd in front of me until my gaze snagged on Rachel, sitting two rows behind the dugout. Her gorgeous smile and tiny nod triggered a flood of warmth in my chest, potent enough to melt the tension from my shoulders.
This would be the only glimpse of her I could afford to take today, but knowing she was here wasn’t the distraction I would have expected it to be. It soothed me in an unexpected way, just like on that first day we met.
Rather than wonder for the millionth time what it was about her that affected me so much in so many ways, I used the calm she brought me to focus.
Whatever happened today, and in the games that followed, I’d make it work. This might have been my first time as a manager, but this game was more than just my job. It was who I was.
Impostors don’t get impostor syndrome.
I stole another glance at Rachel as the song ended, the guys taking their positions on the field in my periphery.
She always knew the right things to say.
As with most games, once it started, it all went by in a blur. Adrian was our strongest pitcher and had a shutout going into the seventh inning, and Nate had gone two for four, only striking out once. I spied a wince after he swung toward the later innings,but I had to trust him and Lee right now for assurance he could play.
I stepped out of the dugout, keeping my eye on Adrian as he gave up his second hit of the ninth inning. We still had a good lead, and I knew he’d want to go for a complete game, but I didn’t want him to exhaust his arm and take a hit in his earned run average if he didn’t have to. If he let one more batter on base, the game could get away from us pretty damn quickly.
I guessed this was a manager moment. For the most part today, I’d just encouraged the guys and offered support, even if Nate had grunted back or nodded at me. After getting behind on the count, the batter hit a pop fly, easily caught by Chris behind the plate.
