“Yes, Coach,” we all say in unison.
“Very well. Pack your things from the facilities if you haven’t already. We’ll give you until the end of the day before we lock everything up so be sure to take your shit with you. The clubhouse will be closed once you all leave as a safety precaution.”
The screen goes black but I don’t break my gaze. My mind is reeling. What am I going to do without baseball? I may travel during the off-season but during the season, I’m locked in. I was ready to go. Now everything is spiraling.
“Fuck, man,” Miller breathes out beside me.
I grunt in response because I don’t have any words for the news we were just handed. An indefinite postponement. What does that even mean?
“What are we supposed to do now?” A dejected sign leaves my mouth before I can stop it.
“I guess we should go to the clubhouse and pack our shit again, Mills.” Twice in one week. I don’t envy the trainers, managers, and staff doing that for us when we travel. This shit is for the birds.
Miller shoots me a glare that says “thanks, asshole,” and I chuckle.
“I don’t know, man. This shit is wild. This is supposed to be our year, ya know. Lucky number seven. The year to win it all.”
“Dude, right? It’s so our year.”
“We might not be able to practice with the team but we can still stay sharp. We’ll just have to make sure everyone else stays motivated too. Then when all this is over, we jump right back in.”
It’s optimistic, I know. But with everything else out of our control, this seems like an easy one to control.
A few hours later, we’re sitting on Miller’s back patio with burgers on the grill and a couple beers consumed between us.
“Maybe this is a good thing, man. You didn’t really get much of an off-season,” Miller says, taking a swig of his beer. We don’t drink during training and try to limit our alcohol intake during the season, but right now, I definitely need one.
The off-season runs from October to February and while most players take off on vacation or veg out, this year I had to head back home to Georgia to help my parents. My dad had a health issue and mom needed my help. I love my family but they can be a lot. I didn't expect to spend the majority of the off-season working and worrying. Maybe this is a blessing in disguise. I finally get some time to relax and get my mental game back into shape, instead of whatever is going on up there right now.
“Get out of my head, dude.”
“It’s not my fault I know how you operate.” He shrugs. “How’s your pops?”
“He’s doing better now. Back at work and the docs say all his numbers look good.”
“That’s great, man. I know how hard it was at first.”
He’s not wrong. When I first got the call that my pops wasn’t doing well, the season had just ended. I was looking forward to chilling for at least a month before heading out on my annual adventure. Unfortunately, he had to havesurgery, so I packed up and went home to be there for his recovery and help my mom as much as possible. He had a rough go after surgery and ended up in the hospital for a few weeks before finally getting released. My dad is stubborn and a terrible patient. He did not make it easy on us and my poor mom could barely handle it all.
I grew up in a middle class family in a small town. We didn’t have much, but we had each other. My parents sacrificed a lot to help make this baseball dream a reality. I help out as much as I can—financially and physically, but they are proud people so I have to be sneaky about it. What started as a plan to spend a couple weeks turned into a couple months back in my childhood bedroom working at mom’s flower shop and doing all of dad’s odd projects around the house.
“Yeah, off-season wasn’t much of an off-season after all. I was really looking forward to getting back on the field and the distraction of baseball.” I get up to flip the burgers.
“You know what you need, man?”
“The cheese from inside, if you want a cheeseburger,” I say dryly.
Miller laughs but goes inside anyway, even though it’s not what he was really asking. He walks back out with two fresh beers, passing me one and the cheese as he says, “What you need is an actual vacation.”
“Fat chance of that happening.”
“Why not, dude? You heard Coach, think of this as an extended off-season. Take some time. Go somewhere. Feed your adventure bone for a few days. Relax.” He draws out the word as he finishes his sentence.
Miller calling it my “adventure bone” makes me laugh. I like doing something new when I go on vacation and sometimes that means going to odd places and trying something semi-dangerous, like when I went to South Africa and swam with sharks. It was a controlled environment but Miller thinks I’m nuts.
“If you didn’t notice by our postponed season, the world is shutting down.”
“They’re telling us to stay out of crowds. You don’t want to be around people anyways, so find a secluded place and go there.”
