“Vasquez,” I say, acknowledging him with a nod and a grin.
We always got along back inLA, though I’m pretty sure any objections he had to my analysis were just filtered through Charlie. Regardless, he almost always stuck to the gameplan I devised. Not that it ever really changed. Some players are an analyst’s dream because they’re so consistently good that what they perceive as their own strengths and what the numbers bear out are virtually identical.
“Frankie, it’s good to see you,” he says, and that’s when I finally notice the glove on his left hand. Charlie has one too, with a ball nestled into the webbing. Despite myself, it makes me smile. Still just two little boys playing catch.
“You too. Welcome to the Eagles,” I say, holding a hand out to him.
Vasquez grins broadly and shakes it firmly. “You always were one step ahead of the rest of us.”
“I assume you’re going to need a suite for Maria and the kids this season?”
“Nah, this one won’t be using his, so we’ll just mooch off of his ass.”
“Who says I won’t be using it?” Charlie cuts in, mock offended.
“Dude, you didn’t use the one inLAand you won’t be using the one here.”
“So, what did he say to talk you into getting back into the game? Last I checked you were a hard no to every single feeler every team has put out.”
Javy shrugs. “When your best friend calls and asks you to coach with him, you say yes.”
“And you decided to play a celebratory game of catch?”
“Obviously,” Charlie says, and slides his mouth into that megawatt grin that had paparazzi constantly clamoring for him outside of every nightclub and hot spot inLA.
“How’s your arm feel?”
Javy laughs. “Right now, great, but ask me tomorrow. I haven’t actually thrown a baseball in more than a year. Shoulder might fall off in my sleep.”
“You’re sure? We could use another arm,” I say, only half joking. Nakamura’s the goal, but not a guarantee, and you can never have too much pitching.
He winks at me and shakes his head. His career is over, wasover when the final doctor shook his head and agreed with what all the other doctors before him had said.
Just like what the doctors said about Charlie’s knee.
I glance over their shoulders to the old men still roaming the fields, moving with aching slowness to run the bases and chase down a weakly hit foul ball.
Guys like Charlie and Javy won’t do that, they can’t, their pride won’t allow it, not after playing at the highest levels, competing against the best in the world, day in and day out, but the gleam in their eyes is the same: the brightness, the joy, it radiates off of them, even after a simple game of catch.
So, they’ll do whatever they have to do to keep baseball in their lives, even if it means seven months of the year crisscrossing the country in cramped airplane seats and watching other, younger men do what they once did, if not quite as well.
“How much do you know about Kai Nakamura and what do you think it’ll take to teach him your sinker?”
The guys laugh and I join them, but then my phone buzzes in the pocket of my leggings and a voice in my earbuds tells me it’s a call from Stew.
“Hey, boss, what’s up?” I ask and mouthStewto Charlie’s mouthedwho?
“I just got a call from Daniel Wilson,” Stew says, without even saying hello.
“Ugh,” I groan. Wilson is the most powerful sports agent in the game and the most notorious, particularly for demanding way more money than his clients are worth. “And what did that sleazeball want?”
“To give us the heads up. Tomorrow morning Ethan Quicke will be opting out of his contract.”
“What? But the last time we talked with him, he said he had no intention of leaving.”
“Seems that Quicke was watching the Japan Series last night and caught sight of a familiar face in the stands. Since he thinks we’ll be offering a substantial contract to Nakamura, he wants to ensure his compensation as our current number-one starter is . . . how did Wilson put it? Commensurate with his past and future contributions to the organization.”
It’s going to cost the team extra millions to sign Quicke if they have competition from other organizations.