"He's okay," I assured him. "Just needed some guidance. Nothing I couldn't handle."
He nodded.
"Thought you should know I'm naming you as team captain." He must have recognized the surprise on my face because he quickly added, "I know it's a little antiquated and not many teams still do it, but fuck it. I'm a little old school."
"We have that in common."
His lips kicked up.
Well, I'll be damned . . . I made Brooks Bailey-Ward III smile.
Team captains weren't common these days. At least not to the degree that were in other sports, like hockey or football. Though I had played on a couple of teams with captains in the past, nobody had ever offeredmethe role.
"Keep in mind this title comes with zero perks," he told me. "No bonus, no badge. If anything, I've just dumped more work on you, because it's your responsibility to keep an eye on your teammates."
"Yes, coach."
"I don't want to hear about a repeat of the other night. That could have ended a lot differently."
"Yes, coach."
When he extended his hand, I took it. I had the feeling that Coach Ward didn't give out handshakes on a whim. What I didn't expect was for him to hold my hand hostage.
"This team looks up to you. With good reason." I forced myself not to recoil from his penetrating gaze. I might have had a couple of inches on him, but when it came to the intimidation factor, I was severely outmatched. "Don't forget it."
I bobbed my head, acknowledging the responsibility he was bestowing on me.
"Good. Now let's go. We've got a game to win." His hand tightened around mine. "And I know you're hungry for this one."
That was putting it mildly. Every game was important to me, but this series against Atlanta was my chance to break the curse, to prove to everyone—every coach that gave up on me, every news rag that slandered my name—that I was more than the caricature they had created. I was more thanSin.
The breath whooshed out of me when he finally released my palm.
I walked back to my designated locker with a newfound sense of purpose. The weight of this honor wasn't an easy load, but it was one I was more than willing to shoulder.
"All good, man?" Tuck asked.
My response was immediate. "Yeah," I told him. "Great actually. Let's fucking do this. "
I had just finished taping both of my wrists per my pregame ritual when coach bellowed for us to gather around. All chatter evaporated. Coach Ward wasn't a man you kept waiting, and he never asked something twice.
"I don't want to hear anything about the fact that we beat these guys yesterday," he told us. "That was then, this is now, and a lot can change in a day. We are not going out there to make them lose. We are going out there to win. Got it?" A series ofaffirmations echoed through the room. "Good. I'm gonna turn it over to your captain."
My attention roved the room, interested to see my teammates' reactions. There was no need. Almost every set of eyes turned toward me, full of respect and reverence.
"Coach told you all before he told me?"
Matty grinned sheepishly. "He didn't need to tell us."
"We know who our captain is," Pink said.
We annihilated the other team—their words, not mine.
"That was embarrassing," my former teammate and roommate, Miguel, told me after the game. "When did you get so good, Sinclair?"
Miguel and I had played together in New Jersey, but he had since been traded to Atlanta. He and Kevin, another former teammate, had approached me after the game to congratulate us on the win.
"That first baseman of yours is scary shit, by the way," Kevin said. I smirked, knowing that Roman would consider that to be high praise. "He nearly mowed me down during that pickle in the fourth."
