Page 25 of The Virgin Game Plan (Rules of Love 2)
The press can fuck off.
I’m done with talking to the media.
From now on, it’s baseball and only baseball. That is all.
Over the next year, I keep my head down and avoid the media. I become good at barking “No comment” to nearly every request, because that’s the only thing I have to say.
My life is baseball—the game and my friendships with other players, guys on my team, like Shane, and guys on other teams, like Crosby Cash, who mans third base for the San Francisco Cougars.
Crosby and I trade a few hitting tips at the All-Star Game, and I pass on Edward Thompson’s advice.
I absorb it even deeper too, continuing to make a few more adjustments at the plate. Little ones, shifting by increments. It works—I pop my batting average up six more points, finishing the year with some of the best stats in the league.
Trouble is, it’s not enough for my team.
The LA Bandits are sagging, well out of playoff contention.
But other teams are noticing me.
That’s what Josh Summers, my shark of an agent, keeps telling me. I’m trade bait, apparently.
“You’re getting lots of interest, Holden,” he tells me at the end of October when we meet in New York.
“Keep me posted.” There’s not much else to say. Being traded isn’t up to me.
When my cell buzzes in late December while I’m vacationing with my family in Costa Rica, I’ve got a feeling I know why Josh is calling.
“What’s up, Summers?”
“You. As in your baseball stock. It’s been rising. How would you feel about going to the San Francisco Dragons?”
I wince. “The team that’s best known for cheating its way to two World Series in the last five years?”
“Yep,” he says.
“Then I feel like they’re pretty much the scourge of baseball.” But the question is rhetorical; I don’t actually have a choice in the matter. Still, I have to try—anywhere but the Dragons. “How about the New York Comets? That’d be awesome. Or Seattle.”
“We’ll work on that for the future. For now, keep this in mind—the Dragons were the scourge of baseball. The organization has completely cleaned house. They just brought in a new partial owner with some deep pockets. Plus, with the year you had and the money they have, we should be able to avoid arbitration and get you a fat raise.”
That piques my interest.
I pace along the beach, watching my little brothers tackle the waves. Horribly. They tackle the waves absolutely horribly. But they do it fearlessly, getting back on their surfboards again and again, going over and over.
Having a blast.
They’ll be going to college soon.
College isn’t cheap, and I don’t know if they’ll get scholarships like I did.
Players get traded all the time early in their careers. I don’t have enough service to have a no-trade clause, no matter how little I want to play for a team known for their roster-wide sign-stealing scandal. Blatant, shameless sign-stealing, with team staffers banging trash can lids in the stands to signal the pitches—pitches they knew were coming thanks to cameras surreptitiously installed in the ballpark.
“All the players who were part of the cheating scandal are gone,” Josh continues. “The coaches are all gone. The organization did a complete overhaul from stem to stern. And they want a clean-up hitter, and your name is among the possibilities.”
My shoulders straighten. I’ve been batting sixth. There is no more prestigious spot in the lineup than fourth. “For real?”
“That’s how they’re looking at you. They want someone who could anchor their lineup for several years. They’re bringing in all-new players. Guys with good reps. Solid backgrounds. No cheating. They’re conducting a nationwide search for a new manager too.”
Scrubbing a hand across the back of my neck, I nod a few times, liking the sound of this more and more. “That seems promising.”
“So, what do you want me to tell them?”
I give a dry laugh. “I have a feeling I don’t really have much of a say.”
Josh clears his throat. “No. They’re trading you, Holden.”
That doesn’t make sense. “But I’m still cheap. I’m not a salary drag.”
“True, but the Bandits want prospects, and more than that, the Dragons want a star player. So it works for both teams. And I think it’s a good move.”
I stare out at the waves crashing against the shore as my parents read under their umbrellas, enjoying their life, enjoying this trip that I made possible.
What difference does it make if I play for the losing LA Bandits or a pockmarked team in San Francisco? I’ll go because that’s the job, and the job is what I’m devoted to. Besides, I’ve got friends in San Francisco on the other team, and it’ll be good to see them.
I fasten on a smile. This is what I signed up for. “I guess I better pack my bags for San Francisco.”
