Chapter 21
Hunter
I talk a big game, and I know it. I’ve been my own biggest hype man for years. It started when I was in junior high and I watched this video by a guy named Derrick Lujan. He was an all-star shortstop for Seattle, and he went on this crazy hit streak where he got a hit for fifty games in a row. Not quite Joe DiMaggio’s stat of fifty-six, but still flirting with greatness. His videos focus on mindset, and he said the biggest muscle a player can work is his ego.
I took that advice to heart that night, and the very next day, before I took the mound, I told myself I was the best in the county. I threw my first complete game. A year later, I had two no-hitters. Then in high school, I set a record for strike-outs, and even threw a perfect game.
All because Derrick Lujan taught me to exercise my ego.
Well . . . that ego just landed me in Coach Shuster’s office after throwing a one-hitter against the toughest team in our division—with an open slot in the starting rotation in Texas. And my parents both here because someone told them to fly in.
I pretty much put it together about an hour before I took the mound, but I didn’t dare utter it out loud. I feel it in my bones, though. I’m getting called up.
“Hunter, great game tonight, son,” Coach says as he slips into his office, along with Coach Burdick. They close the door, and Coach Shuster motions for me to take a seat on the bright orange couch. Everything in this stadium is either blue or orange, I swear.
“Yes, sir,” I say, doing as he says. I ball my hands together and rest my elbows on my knees, my gaze bouncing between my two coaches. My palms are so sweaty, and my mouth is watering again. If I vomit through this news, I’ll never live it down.
“You know why I called you in here, Hunter?” Coach Shuster says.
I start to nod on instinct, and my eyes prick with tears.
“I think so, yeah.” My voice is suddenly hoarse. Fuck, this is hitting me harder than I imagined. I worked so hard for this. I can’t believe it’s really happening.
“You’re going to need to pack your bags this weekend. Come Monday, you’re on a flight to Dallas, and you’re starting in Arlington.”
His words come at me through a narrow tunnel, everything in the room muffled by the sudden thumping of my heart. I nod more aggressively now, and tears fall down my cheeks as an elated sob shakes my chest and I stand.
“Shit, this is embarrassing,” I laugh out.
“Meh, we all do it. It’s a big moment. Marriage. Baby. Getting called up. And not necessarily in that order,” Coach Burdick says.
I hug him first, running my fist over my nose while he can’t see me.
“Go make me proud, Hunter,” he says.
“Yes, sir. I will. I promise.”
I turn to face Coach Shuster next, first gripping his hand, then embracing him.
“Thank you, Coach. Thank you for everything,” I blubber. He chuckles at my breakdown and slaps my back a few times with a heavy hand.
“I didn’t have to do much. You came ready to go. You were ready for this in college, Hunter. You’re going to do great. Just try not to come back here to rehab an injury, huh?”
I breathe out a laugh as we part.
“No, sir. I mean yes, sir. I mean . . . fuck. I’ll try not to get hurt.”
Both coaches chuckle at my sudden inability to speak in coherent sentences, and then Coach Burdick cracks open the office door and my parents step inside to share the news.
“You two knew, didn’t you?” I hug my mom tightly, the tears flowing good now. My dad’s hand rests on my shoulder, and the shuddering in his palm clues me in that he’s probably crying like a baby, too. My mom’s the only one with dry eyes, which is hilarious, because if this were a situation to place bets on, her crying would have been a sure thing.
“I’m so proud of you, Hunter. So incredibly proud,” my mom says, holding me at the elbows and stepping back so she can study me the way she did before sending me off for picture day at school.
“Thanks, Mom. Dad. Just, oh my God, I’m making the show! Woo!”
I pump a fist, and my coaches start clapping. Roddy peaks his head in, and the moment our eyes meet, his mouth stretches into a wide grin. He rushes at me, wrapping me in a bear hug that knocks the wind out of me.
“Fuck, yeah! I knew it! I fucking knew it!” His hands slap my back after he drops my feet back to the floor, and he moves on to shake my parents’ hands next.
