1
Emmett
Is this the beginning of the end?
It feels like the beginning of the end.
At what point do Iknowthis is my fate? That this is my last first day here. My last first staff meeting. My last first “hello” to the coworkers I haven’t seen in months.
An offseason has never felt shorter.
Typically, I’m itching for baseball to return, counting down the days until winter is over, but not this year. This year, I’ve dreaded the idea of returning to my office at the field, knowing my every move is going to be analyzed.
Because this season, I have a brand-new boss—one that no longer sees me as the right fit to be the field manager for Chicago’s MLB team, even though I’ve held the position for seven years now.
This morning, the film room is buzzing with noise. Every person who works for the Windy City Warriors, outside of the players, is packed in the stadium-style seats. This is the room we use to go over game film to prepare for an upcoming opponent, or when a one-on-one session is needed to make corrections.
Today though, we’re sandwiched in here for our first meeting with the new team owner.
Reese Remington.
The thirty-five-year-old is the granddaughter of the previous owner, a guy who held the title almost as long as I’ve been alive, an owner who allowed me to run my team the way I saw fit.
His granddaughter, however, judging by our interactions last season when she was simply training to take over, will be anything but hands-off.
Kai nudges my elbow with his from his seat next to mine. “What time do you want to meet tomorrow to go over the potential pitching lineup?”
“Let’s say eleven thirty.”
“I might have Max with me. I hope that’s okay.”
I give my future son-in-law a deadpanned glare. “Of course that’s okay, Ace.”
“I don’t think you can keep calling me Ace. You’re going to have a new ace pitcher this season. We just need to figure out who that is.”
“You’re always going to be Ace. Good luck to the next guy.”
Kai, or Ace as we call him, was the Windy City Warriors’ ace pitcher ever since he joined the team a few years ago. That is, until he retired at the end of last season, leaving me without my go-to guy on the mound.
But as much as I’m going to miss being able to count on him every few starts, I’m even more proud of him for making the decision that was best for his family. Especially because that family now includes my daughter.
A couple of years ago, the two of them met when Miller spent the summer nannying for Kai’s son, and the rest is history. I couldn’t imagine a better man for my girl. And now seeing Miller so calm and at peace here in Chicago with him and Max, it’s hard to remember the wild child I raised who once never felt settled in one place.
As proud of Kai as I am for calling it quits when the timing felt right, he was missing the game before spring training even ended. So, though I may not have him on my roster anymore, I now have him on my coaching staff.
That’s a perk of being the field manager of a Major League Baseball team. I get to hire my own staff, and there’s no one more qualified to be my new pitching coach than Kai Rhodes.
The door to the packed and rowdy room opens and my body instantly tenses, expectingher, but when a short redhead with a bouncing ponytail and three coffees balanced in her hands ambles through the entry, I relax back into my chair.
“Did I miss anything?” Kennedy asks, taking the empty seat on my other side before passing Kai and me each one of the coffees.
“Not yet.” I hold my cup up. “Thank you for this.”
“Anytime, Monty.”
“Happy official first day, Dr. Rhodes.”
My words cause Kai to beam from the seat next to me, looking over at his sister-in-law.
