Page 6 of Hard to Lose

“Who?”

“This Ryan Camden guy.”

“I’m listening,” he says and steeples his hands in front of him.

“This letter has been lost in the mail vortex for five years, Dad. Aren’t you the least bit curious about what happened to him? I mean, it could be a great PR story for us. The ace baseball pitcher who had all the talent in the world including a one-hundred-mile-per-hour fastball, but who decided to serve his country instead. A letter he sent you, thanking you, on his way to war, which has been MIA until now. What has happened to him since then? What if he still has a killer arm? He’d be in his late twenties, but I think with our connections we could get him an audience with a major league team.”

“We both know a team would never pick him up and sign him after all this time—”

“But think of the spin we could put on it. Helping a selfless veteran realize his dream he thought was dead and gone. It’s something heartwarming—a dream come true even after all these years type of thing. We could even set up a veterans’ All-Star game—a thank you for your service PR opportunity with press and the whole nine yards. The sports world needs some good in it. Something beyond its overinflated egos and ridiculous salaries, and this could be it.”

“Salaries, I might add, that you profit handsomely from.”

“I never said I didn’t, but . . . don’t you just need to feel like you’re doing something good? Don’t you ever get burned out from it all and crave the humanity in this business?”

“Yes, but let’s be clear. A manufactured PR stunt is not humanity.”

His words feel like a scold when they’re merely being honest. “I know.” The words come out as a sigh and sound like defeat.

His nod is slow and deliberate, his eyes serious as they hold mine. “What’s going on with you, honey?”

I purse my lips and shrug. “I don’t know. I need a new challenge? I guess you just gave me one, but maybe it’s more than that. Maybe I’m curious about this man who’s close to me in age and who felt so strongly about his duty, that he gave up his dream to fulfill it. That kind of selflessness is rare. Maybe . . .” Maybe I feel a connection to a man I’ve never met—someone who, like me, didn’t conform to predictable expectations—and have to figure out why. “There has to be a reason this letter was delivered now.”

“I never thought you were one who adhered to the notion or romanticism of fate.”

“I don’t. I do.” I throw my hands up. “I don’t know what I think anymore.”

“Look. I get it. It’s okay to feel a little lost sometimes. Dekker’s about to start a family with Hunter. Lennox just got married to Rush. Brexton is deliriously happy with Drew. You’re feeling lost.”

“No. That’s not it.” I raise my voice to him. “I’m feeling frustrated. Trapped. Like that is what’s expected of me next when I don’t want it to be me. That’s the last thing on my radar, and today’s stunt by my sisters just proves my point.”

He chews over my comment as his eyes hold mine. “No one wants you to feel trapped, Chase. I certainly don’t. All I want for you is to find your own path, find what makes you happy, and run with it.”

I hear his words, know he means them, but have a hard time accepting them.

“Thank you.” My voice is soft as I look back down at the letter and the unknown story behind it. “Do you remember anything about him?”

“Vaguely. He was a wild child with one hell of an arm.”

“Was he nice?”

He gives me a half-smile. “You’re testing my memory here. Can I say he was cocky? Will you accept that as an answer?” He laughs. We both know most twenty-year-olds good enough to be recruited by any professional sports team are cocky. It’s part of their MO.

“You’re no help,” I joke. “What else do you remember about him, if anything?”

“Believe it or not, when we received the letter in the mail, I pulled up my old recruiting logs. I only had a few notes on him. It was his junior college coach who reached out to us, trying to drum up interest for a player who wouldn’t naturally be on our radar.”

“The kid had a one-hundred-mile-per-hour arm. How was he not on everyone’s radar?”

My father gets a far-off look in his eyes and then gives a quick shake of his head. “I guess that’s the question, isn’t it?”

I nod, understanding what he means as I pull the letter from the envelope and unfold the worn, lined paper.

Dear KSM,

I just recently learned of your interest in me as an athlete and wanted to thank you. However, my dream to play in the major league is over. I’ve been advised to let old dreams go. To accept that life has changed forever.

-Ryan Camden