Page 26 of Scoring in Cedarwood

“Those people want to see a game, not know our ideology.”

“I know that.” Zeppelin notched his chin in the air. “But they want to know we stand for something.”

“We’re examples to those kids and families and to the community,” Tanner said. “Really, they don’t give a rat’s ass about our philosophies—as long as we don’t parade them all over everywhere.”

“Which is why you should be gone. We don’t need gay players.”

His anger hit the limit. “First off, no one knew or cared about my sexuality back in Gary. They gave a damn about my playing. That’s what should define my stint in Cedarwood. I’m a good baseball player and an asset to the team,” he said, doing his best to keep his voice even. He wouldn’t give Zeppelin the honor of being yelled at—not now. “Second, you and anyone else have no idea how many of those kids and fans need role models. For some, we’re the only ones they have. They want to see strong, ethical players on the field. Some of them need to know it’s okay to be themselves. They need positive role models in sports. I’m proud of who I am and what I’ve accomplished. If I can show a kid who loves baseball but is scared to come out…if I can show it’s okay to be him or herself, then I’ll do it.”

“You’re encouraging them to be freaks.”

He hadn’t heard a thing Tanner had said. “You’re hetero. To me, you’re the freak.”Fuck.He hadn’t made any sense with that and he’d lost his cool. “Stop calling everyone you don’t agree with a freak.”

Zeppelin’s eyes narrowed. “You’re messing those kids up.”

“I beg to differ,” Tanner said. “Kids who are gay need role models. They need to know they’re normal. My best friend committed suicide because he thought he was a freak. Because people like you drummed that into his head. He was gay, not abnormal. Not being accepted at face value is the abnormality.”

Zeppelin’s lip curled in a sneer, but he said nothing. A couple of other players stood at his flanks and one eased up next to Tanner, but no one spoke up.

Jesus.If he had to stand up to all of them, he would. “I’m gay,” Tanner said. “I’m in a relationship and not interested in chasing any of you. Iaminterested in being teammates and playing for a league championship. I’d like to have a long and storied career in Cedarwood. If you have a problem with homosexuals being on the team, then speak up but know I’m not going anywhere.” He’d lied about the relationship thing and had gotten ballsier than he’d intended but fuck it. He’d been mostly honest.

Zeppelin shook his head. He left Tanner at the entryway to the showers. Paul Black, the catcher, and Andy Keene, the right fielder, joined Tanner in the tiled room.

“Good job standing up to him,” Paul said. “He needs to be reminded we’re a team and not here to be his backing ensemble.”

“Plus, it’s nice to know you’re committed to the team,” Andy said. He grinned and stepped into the first stall. “I heard about you before the trade. We’re going to have fun in the outfield.”

“Thanks.” Tanner stripped and made his way into the second stall. He turned the water on. He liked the camaraderie they’d formed. “I’ve got high hopes for the rest of the season.”

“Very cool,” Paul said. “Oh and for your information, I’m glad we’ve diversified. You’re right. We should be role models for everyone—not some.” He stepped under the spray in the third stall. “My knees hurt like a motherfucker. I both love and hate double-headers. There’s no time to regroup.”

Tanner smiled and lathered his washcloth. He’d finally started to feel like he belonged on the team. “I’m glad we have some time between games, though. I’ve played for some clubs where they finish one game and launch right into the next. No break or change of clothes. It sucked.”

“The hell you say,” Andy said. “How do you rest up? Shower? Weren’t you drained?”

“Oh yeah, we were ragged by the seventh-inning stretch and you rested when you got home.” In his case, when he reached the apartment and passed out from exhaustion. Those had been the few times he’d been able to sleep through the noise from the restaurant below. Tanner cleaned up before rinsing. “It only happened twice. I think the players’ union put the nix on it.”

“Good.” Andy finished his shower. “My wife, Kellie, and I are throwing a barbecue on Tuesday, since it’s our day off. Bring your boyfriend. It’s a good time and we need the release.”

“He makes the best pulled pork with pineapple glaze you’ll ever eat,” Paul said. “I could devour all of it without guilt.”

“I’ll mark my calendar.” He’d have to make an excuse why Dane couldn’t come along—they weren’t a couple—not really. But he’d attend. Why not? Maybe he could convince Dane to join him.

“My neighbor, Clay, owns the diner in town. He usually brings fried chicken that’ll melt in your mouth.” Andy ducked under the spray again then turned the water off. “It’s legendary.”

“You’re making me hungry,” Tanner said. He laughed and shampooed his hair. “I’ll have to find more than a snack between games.” He might even try to call Dane.

“Good.” Andy wrapped up in a towel. “When you’re both dressed, we’ll meet on the field for some warm-ups.” He left the shower.

“See? You fit in more than Zeppelin let on.” Paul scrubbed the soap from his cheeks. “Don’t let him get to you. We’re a team. We look out for each other.”

“Zeppelin thinks I’m the reason the stadium was defaced,” Tanner said. He rinsed the shampoo from his hair. “I probably am, but it’s not fair to put that all on my shoulders.”

“It’s not.” Paul rinsed once again. “But you’re bigger than that. You’re here to play ball.”

“I know.” He’d given himself that speech in his head a thousand times, but when Zeppelin had hurled insults, the shit from his past came back at full force. “He reminds me of my father.”

“Didn’t want you to come out?”

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