“What’s her name?” I asked after we thumped shoulders in a quick bro hug. I could smell the lingering scent of Yves Saint Laurent Black Opium perfume. Joy wore the same scent.
“Athena Gataki,” he replied dreamily.
“A Greek girl?” He nodded. “Your mother will be ecstatic.”
“I’m not telling her about this one just yet,” he said, then wrapped his arms around himself. “Fuck, it's cold,” he muttered as we headed to the facility.
“Oh, my sweet summer child,” I teased. I loved all the seasons, but Yanni was a warm-weather guy, which was why he decamped for at least a month to train in Greece, visiting family as soon as the season ended, which was coming up way too quickly. I went with him, or I had for the last nine years, so it was given I’d go again, although I barely lasted a week in the heat before finding a reason to head somewhere cooler.
“That's a monstrosity,” he muttered, and I guessed he meant the new stadium. “Traffic's already a mess,” he added. “Stack game days on top of each other and it'll be biblical. Jeez, Fridays are bad enough once the amusement park crowd rolls in. I hope someone smarter than me is building the schedules.”
“Everyone is smarter than you,” I deadpanned, and he socked me in the arm before we headed to the internal security point.
“Hey, guys, you here for the hot tub?” Mitch, the next security guard I was friendly with, although he didn’t have kids in hockey or baseball.
“Sure.”
“You gotta know that I liked you striking out Issacson. I got no time for that POS after he charged you on the mound in that last game up in Toronto.”
“Meh. He thought I got a little too close on that low and inside with my sinker,” I said as I handed over my phone and ear buds to step through the metal detectors. “If I were going to hit him, I would have aimed for that giant melon head of his.”
“Much bigger target than his tiny little cup,” Yanni added.
“Amen.” Mitch chortled, then handed me my cell and Bluetooth buds back, and did the same for Yanni.
We meandered down the hall past various offices and rooms filled with all manner of sports-related therapy equipment. Hydrotherapy was at the end of this hall, past some trophy cases with pucks, balls, and a ton of photos. Yanni's phone sounded, and he answered the call with a raised finger—I could tell it was his mom—and I took a moment to examine yet another display of imagery of years past. Iron Horses winning pennants, Railers hoisting the cup. Men who trained hard to bring glory to their hometowns. If not for the medical staff and trainers on our teams, a few of us would not be enjoying the sport we love. Sports medicine kept us on the mound, on the ice, or on the gridiron when injuries took us down.
The Iron Horses had been good to me, and I loved my career. They paid me well to throw a ball into a mitt. Not Ohtani money, but enough that when I finally left my rosin bag on the mound, I’d be fine. Comfortable. Free. That security came withwork. I stayed in shape because I wanted to—and because the alternative involved getting dumped unceremoniously into the Susquehanna. I stuck to my routines: sleep tracking, shoulder checks, grip work, a jog to the park, hot tub, stretch, bands. Then fly balls, long toss with Yanni, quiet talk about pitch sequences and strike zones. Not glamorous. Just how I stayed standing.
Yanni finished his call.
“Did you tell your mom about Athena?” I asked.
He looked horrified as he pushed the door open and then held it. The aroma of chlorine hit me, drowning out the lovely smell of perfume clinging to my catcher. There were pools of all kinds and sizes here—warm and cold plunges, hot tubs, underwater treadmills, all overseen by expert therapists.
“God no,” he said, nodding at the therapists who worked with the other athletes and us. They knew our game day routine well and had the hot tub already warmed and bubbling.
“Probably wise since you generally don’t date a woman longer than two weeks,” I fired over my shoulder as we made our way to the locker room to change into swim trunks. There were several other players here, some from my team, and some from the Railers. Which reminded me of Jari, and yeah, that was happening a lot in the last week. “Hey, do you ever go to the hockey games?”
Yanni peeled his sweaty shirt off, baring a firm chest with lots of dark hair. “First off, I feel I must address your slight on me and my ability to date several women at a time. Can I help if they see all this manliness and throw themselves at me?” He motioned to his bare chest. I rolled my eyes. “Secondly, sure, as many as I can. Our schedules don’t really line up, but yeah. Why?”
I shoved my running gear into my tiny gray locker, dug into the bag of clean trunks and footwear I left here for game days, and pulled out a pair of blue trunks and black flip-flops.
“Just wondering,” I replied, tossing a look around the locker room. Lots of guys I didn’t know, which meant they were hockey players. I didn’t want to sound off about never attending their games and come across as a pompous jerk. It wasn’t that I disliked hockey, I just…I guess I never really gave it much thought. “I was thinking of going some night when we’re not playing.”
“Cool, you looking for company or are you planning a date? Athena has a sister…” He gave me a wink as he shed his clothes, then wiggled into his own trunks.
“No, no date. Just a night at the ice rink. Maybe have a few beers, eat some nachos, manly stuff.”
“You have come to the right person as I’m incredibly manly. Just ask Athena.” He flexed a nicely sculpted biceps. A few of the guys passing by high-fived him. Then the fool started naming all the women’s names rapped about in “Freek-a-Leek.”
“Ass,” I chuckled before grabbing a towel from a pile by the door. Yanni followed, prattling off more women’s names. By the time we reached the hot tub, I was ready to dunk him just to shut him up, but thankfully, he launched into another topic. Leaning back into the hot water, I tried to silence my mind, let the jets work, and Yanni’s rambling fade—but Jari slipped back in anyway, those shuttered eyes rising through the steam, even while I enjoyed the jets centered on my left shoulder.
Focus.
Once he realized I was in that place that he liked to call “The Cam Zone,” he quieted down to let me ease into the day ahead. We were starting at three today, an odd time for me as I preferred night starts, but fans seemed to enjoy the earlier starts. Since we weren’t heading to the playoffs this year, there was less pressure to perform, but I still wanted to give my best every time I walked to the mound.
After our thirty minutes in the hot tub, we moved into cooler water for about five minutes. A short walk followed, just a few circuits of the therapy area, and then a quick shower to rinse off the Epsom salts from the whirlpool. After this, I’d get to the gym for some light range-of-motion exercises and deep yoga stretches for the hips, core, and arms. Having an early start meant I would pare down some of my routine to ready myself.
