Page 4 of Fastball Fever
Goodbye, fastball king.Hello, starting over.
I just pray my new trainer is a badass with five tattoos and biceps like a gorilla.Only someone like that might have a chance of saving my career.
Chapter Three
Enter the Coach
The interior of the training facility feels like a jail cell, not that I've ever been in jail.But this little corner of the hallway I've been relegated to feels almost as confining.It's like I've been punished with a timeout in kindergarten, only worse.I've lost my edge.Why?Because I worry my shoulder will never heal.I deserve whatever punishment Phil has decided to heap on me.
I drum my fingers on my knees while I wait for my sentence to be handed down.This crappy chair makes my ass hurt, and I swear somebody put needles in the padding.The murmur of conversation filters out of Phil's office, too quiet for me to understand the words.The door hangs half-open in a taunting invitation I don't dare accept.
"Charlie's recovery isn't just about his future," I hear Phil say.Every syllable feels like a gut punch."It's the team's World Series dream, not just one pitcher's."
Whoever he's talking to, I still can't make out their words.
Speak up, would ya?Don't leave me hanging.
They shuffle around inside the office as if they've made their decision and informing me is an afterthought.I'm already out of the game.Because of my injury.My dreams don't mean shit anymore.
The quiet outside the office begins to feel suffocating, and I push up out of my chair.While I shuffle my feet on the concrete floor, I'm unsure whether I should stay and hear the truth or walk away and pretend I didn't.The door remains open as if it's daring me to make a decision.
I lean against the wall but can't stop tapping my foot.
A piece of loose thread on my shirt catches my attention, and I yank at it, unraveling more than I intended.It hangs there, like a visible reminder of everything else in my life that's coming apart.I can't let the team down, can't let myself become the guy who once had potential.
My skin itches, and I struggle against scratching.
"We need to do everything to help him recover—and not just physically."
That voice—a woman's voice—resounds clearly and firmly.
I slide closer to the doorway but still out of sight, straining to catch the rest of what's being said.
"Mentally too," the mystery woman declares.
Does she think I'm unbalanced or something?That's crap.Who is that woman, anyway?
The door swings open all the way, and Phil steps out, as calm as ever."Charlie, come on in."
I freeze briefly before trailing him into the office.My heart thumps hard against my ribcage like it's trying to break free.Phil motions for me to sit while I size up his company.There she is—athletic build, chestnut hair tied back, hazel eyes sharp and almost…challenging.
"This is Amy Keller," Phil explains."She'll be your new coach."
Whuh, what?I think my head might be smoking, like a cartoon character.Phil couldn't have said this woman is…my coach?The word slams into me with the force of a fastball.Maybe Phil gave me a pretty new coach with mesmerizing eyes as a test of some sort.
Amy Keller gives me half a smile, the kind that suggests she means business more than friendship."Nice to meet you, Charlie."
Yeah, great, whatever.I slump down onto the chair, still reeling from what Phil's just told me."You're kidding, right?About the coach thing?"
The words tumble out before I can stop myself.Smart move, Braddock.
Despite the tension in the room, Amy doesn't flinch.Her gaze bores into mine with unflappable determination."No joke, Braddock.I've taken on bigger challenges than you."
I glance over at Phil, searching for a sign that Amy Keller's appearance is nothing more than a way to screw with my head.Phil's as steady as ever.
"The team needs you back in top form," Phil asserts."Amy's got the experience to help you get there."
My thoughts scramble like eggs in a pan.A woman coach?How's that gonna fly with the rest of the guys?I open my mouth to argue, but Amy cuts me off.
