Page 1 of Without Bound
1
Bishop
Four Years Ago
Lights flash like an explosion of fireworks, and camera shutters click click click, capturing every step I take as I walk onto the stage and sit down.
I keep my head down, focusing on the cords that snake out from a series of microphones that are placed in front of me. They curl and twist and flow over the edge of the table, dropping into the unknown. Right now, I feel the same. I feel myself spiraling and slowly starting to fall into a wide unknown, and I’m terrified.
Not one person on earth enjoys the uncertainty of what will come after the fall. Where will the wind take you? How far is the fall? Will you crash and burn, becoming just a memory? And if you manage to land safely, what next?
The big, dark pit of the unknown is inevitable at this point. I just pray I’m strong enough to live through the crash.
With a deep inhale, I plaster on a smile and lift my head. The lights are bright and I’m forced to blink a few times until the spots clear. Beside me sits my agent, my coach, and the owner of the team, all there for support. As I scan the crowd I lock eyes with a few familiar pairs mixed in amongst the media.
Mom and dad sit side by side, holding hands, mom with tears in her eyes already, and not even a word has been spoken. Next to dad sits my best friend since childhood, Vaughan, who has been a huge support for me over these last few months while I wrestled with what to do and where to go. He gives me a nod then taps his nose twice before tugging his ear. Our sign that all is good.
With one last breath, I blow out my nerves and begin.
“Pop. C’mon. Can you turn that off, please?” My dad stands in front of the television, arms crossed over his chest and the remote clutched tightly in his fist.
“I’m just so damn proud of you, son.” He sniffs a little then swipes a small tear from under his eye. “You did good, Bishop. It was a spectacular career.”
It doesn’t feel spectacular,I think to myself.
My premature retirement from major league baseball has been the most difficult decision of my life. But after my injury, nothing has been the same.
Like I told the press, this game has been my heart and soul for over twenty years. And as much as I’d like to continue to play for another twenty, my body is telling me it’s time to hang up my cleats.
“I want to go out while I still have love in my heart for the greatestgame ever played. I don’t ever want to fall out of love with it, and I know that the minute this dream turns into a job, that love will diminish. So, with that, today I officially announce my retirement from major league baseball.”
The television echoes the words I said just hours ago. I can still hear the gasps from the crowd, followed by a storm of questions. I told myself I wasn’t going to cry, that I wouldn’t pussy out like that. But when you say goodbye to the one thing that defines you, it’s inevitable.
The only thing that kept me from sobbing into my manager's shoulder was having my family there. Mom, dad and Vaughan.
Mom clicks off the burner on the stove, then crouches down to pick up a serving dish from the cabinet.
“Thank you again, brother, for being there today,” I say to Vaughan.
We sit perched on stools at my kitchen island while we wait to chow down on the delicious food mom has prepared for us.
My manager wanted me to put on a big hoopla shindig with trusted members of the press and everyone from the War Eagles organization, but all I wanted was a quiet evening with the people I love most.
“Of course man. I wouldn’t dream of being anywhere else. Well, maybe somewhere a little warmer. But I’d happily freeze my ass off to stand by you.” He clamps a hand on my shoulder with a big bright smile.
His boy-next door look is so opposite of mine right now. I’m all scowling faces and sour puss attitude. Not at all my normal happy-go-lucky demeanor.
“Grow a pair. It’s not that bad. It’s only,” I flip my wrist to check the temperature on my watch. “Forty-one degrees.”
“Shit. It’s colder than I thought.” Vaughan shivers and I just laugh.
Aside from some traveling, good ole Texan Vaughan has resided in only sunny states. Texas to Florida, for what was a horrendous eight years, then back to Texas.
“What time will momma Max and Jim be here with my number one girl?” I take a long pull from my beer mom sat down in front of me.
“Any minute now. Mom said they were just doing a little souvenir shopping after some sightseeing, then they’d be over.”
“Darius,” mom calls out to my dad who is still pressing rewind and watching the highlight reel that accompanied my announcement. “Could you come help me for a minute?”
