“I don’t know. I don’t really let that stuff get to me. Maybe it’s the All-Star bid. I really have to step up now that I slid into the starting lineup.”
He shrugs as he fidgets with the Velcro on his gloves. I gaze at him, and I think he can sense me looking. That’s why he’s working so hard to keep his focus on the field.
I know the truth: my father’s opinion matters to him. Proving that he’s working hard to the man who taught him how to love the game after his own father used it as a weapon matters to him. Having a good day today, in front of my dad? It matters.
“Use our technique. Simplify your presence. Right now, it’s stepping in there and seeing a good pitch. Then, when you feel one fly off the bat, remember how it feels and get ready for the next. One at a time. Nothing but the pitch.”
Adriel nods and heads back to the plate.
I’ve learned a lot about Adriel in the month we’ve really been working together. A lot of it I already knew, but I’ve been really drilling down on the mental aspects of this game, and Adriel is a prime example of crowded headspace. He’s consumed by what people think of him, and not only when he’s playing.
We’ve been working on quieting his thoughts when he’s at the plate. He doesn’t fully grasp the psychology at play and howit bleeds into the rest of his life, but I’m seeing results. For example, he hasn’t shown up at a club or a crash site since I got here.
Adriel’s the last to hit for us before we pack up and make room for Chicago to take their BP. And that has me extra nervous.
Jayden was called up for this series. And while he is hedging his bets to protect his heart, he’s been absolutely crushing it. Chicago needs him, he’s not going back to the minors. Today, Texas is going to regret trading him.
And I am going to sweat through my jersey in the first inning from being in a stadium with my dad, Jayden’s mom, and the knowledge that as much as our families are here to watch us do what we do, they’re also here to congratulate us on finally being a couple. At least, Jayden’s mom will. My dad may forever be on the fence, but that’s only because I’m his little girl.
Adriel steps off the field after his last round and holds a fist out to me. I pound it with my own, a little wowed by the bro respect he’s giving me. Every day, I get in with him a little tighter. It’s good.
“I think we’ve got this bet all sewn up,” he says as he pulls off his batting gloves, his gaze drifting toward the right field gates.
“Bet?” I follow his line of sight to where the Chicago players are filtering in, and my eyes narrow on Jayden the moment he steps onto the warning track.
“Yep. I outhit him, he pays for the massive steak dinner we’re all going to tonight,” Adriel says, his massive hand patting my back twice as he begins the trek toward his brother.
I watch them stretch out their arms and shout across the field for a moment before I follow behind.
“Hey, Ad?” I yell.
He spins around to walk backward, nodding at me.
“What if Jayden wins? I mean, not that I don’t think you’ve got this sewn up and all. Just . . . you saidwe’re.How did I get in this bet?”
My pulse ping-pongs as my head gets light. The dizziness gets worse when Adriel’s smile turns into a low laugh.
“You should ask him that,” he says.
Adriel turns around and I slow my steps, turning my attention to the whistle coming from the first base dugout area. They must have just let in the VIP guests because my father is waving. I jog toward him while the two brothers greet one another in the middle of right field.
“Hey, Coach,” my dad says as I approach. He gives me a thumbs up and I do the same. I hop the small fence by the dugout and head into the stands so I can give him a hug. He’s watched me coach a few times now, even going so far as to get his own iPad to plot out spray charts and compare notes with me after games. It’s sweet, and I’ve actually incorporated some of his advice with a few of the guys.
“I think we’re going to get a show today. You?” He gestures toward the field, where the Vargas boys are laughing with one another. Jayden’s gaze drifts my way, and I nod and wave him over.
I chuckle. “More like a showdown.”
Adriel and Jayden saunter toward us, and I lead my dad down to field level, waving off a skeptical security man who scans my dad’s body for a badge.
“He’s my father. It’s okay,” I say.
The security guy nods, but hovers nearby.
Jayden swings his arms around my dad first, the two of them exchanging massive pats on the back.
“I knew you could do this,” my dad says at his ear. Jayden nods into the crook of my father’s neck, and if we weren’t out inthe open for a lot of people to see, the two would no doubt let the tears fall that they’re trying so damn hard to keep at bay.
“Thanks, Coach,” Jayden says, backing out of their embrace.
