Page 2 of Catching the Coach
How was batting?
Me
Don’t ask.
Judd
That good huh? Still tight?
Me
Yep
Judd
OK Mr. Grumpy Gills
Me
Grumpy gills? What the fuck is this, Finding Nemo?
Judd
*sends GIF of Dory* Just keep swimming
I smirk and send him a middle-finger emoji. Leave it to my brother to bring up my spirits. Pocketing my phone, I head over to the medical room to have my shoulder stretched and taped before tonight’s game.
“Hey Paul,” I say, hopping up onto one of the tables.
“Kessler, how's the shoulder?”
“Tight. Hit some balls a bit ago and it tightened right up,” I tell him rolling my shoulder around. I’ve never been worked on so much in my whole career as I have in the few months since my injury. Having an injury to this extent, at this age, well let’s just say I’m lucky I can use it at all. I took a dirty hit during the playoffs last year, fracturing my clavicle and tearing and stretching my tendons. Recovery has been an uphill battle since day one.
Paul grabs my left arm, puts one hand on my shoulder and uses the other to slowly lift my arm. “Let me know when it starts to pull.”
He gets my arm almost above my head when I let him know that it’s pulling.
“Any pain?” he asks, lowering my shoulder back down.
“No, not pain really, just tight.”
“That’s good. Not the tightness, but that you don’t have pain with it. I’ll go get the heating pad and put that on you for 20 minutes before we stretch you out and tape you up.”
“Thanks, man.” We bump fists as he leaves to grab the heating pad.
* * *
Ninety minutes later, I’m stretched, taped, and heading to the lounge we have in the clubhouse. Everyone has different rituals before a game. Some guys watch tapes of the opposing team. Some do light workouts. Others zone out and listen to music. Most of the time I watch TikToks and send the hilarious ones to my brother. I see Reese Hayes, our shortstop and one of my best friends, sitting over on a couch. I walk over and plop down at the opposite end.
“‘Sup man,” I say, digging my phone out of my pocket.
“Not much man, how's the shoulder?” Hayes asks, nodding to my left shoulder.
“Eh, you know. It’s getting there. I’m ready to be back on the field.” I’m a catcher for the Salem Silverbacks and today is my first official game back. I’m ready to get back behind the plate.
“No doubt man. We’ve missed you. Dawson’s great, but the kid is getting a big head. Time to check that ego.” Miles Dawson was called up from the minors for a few months before my injury. The kid is good, but he has an ego on him like the Empire State Building.
“That’s the plan,” I say, opening an email that pops up on my screen. I read the email and look at Reese.
