Page 16 of Dibs
“Let’s hope it’s not much more than a sprain,” Dad said, squeezing my shoulder.
I looked over at Coach, who was standing in the corner with a grim look on his face. We both knew it was likely more serious than a sprain, especially since the doctor suspected I’d torn my ACL.
Dr. Chisolm walked back in and introduced herself before delivering the news. “Well, the MRI confirmed that you have an ACL tear. The damage is extensive and will require surgery. I’ll put in a referral for you to meet with an orthopedic surgeon so you can discuss further treatment with them.”
My mother gasped. “Surgery?”
Dr. Chisolm nodded. “I’m afraid so.”
“How long of a recovery process are we looking at?” my father asked.
“Every patient is different, but you can expect about nine to twelve months of recovery time before resuming any sports.”
Mom squeezed my hand and tears pricked my eyes. Nine to twelve months was a lifetime for an athlete. What the hell was I going to do?
“Do you have any other questions?” Dr. Chisolm asked.
I shook my head, refusing to look at anyone.
“Okay, I’m going to write up your discharge paperwork, and then you can head home.”
“Thank you, Doctor,” Dad said before turning to Coach. “You know he’s at UCLA on an athletic scholarship. How does this injury affect that?”
Coach traded a glance with me, his eyes filled with disappointment. “He could lose his scholarship.”
“What?” my mom cried.
My chest ached. Baseball was my life, and I fucked it all up for a few minutes of fun with my teammates. On top of that, I’d let my parents down. They had been so happy when I’d been accepted to UCLA and now my future at the school was in jeopardy.
“His injury didn’t happen while playing baseball, so they can revoke his scholarship. I’ll talk to the athletic department, but I can’t make any promises.” He said his goodbyes and told me he’d call once he spoke to the school.
After getting discharged, I was wheeled outside to where my dad and mom were waiting with their car.
“We got a room at a hotel down the street. We can stay there until we figure out our next steps,” my mom said as my father pulled out of the parking lot.
“I just want to go home.”
She shook her head. “I don’t think the dorm is the best place for you right now. There are stairs—”
“No, I mean home to San Diego.”
5
CHASE
Present Day
I didn’t thinkI would be back on a baseball field only three days after I’d retired, but there I was, standing near first base as I watched my boy in the batter’s box. People were talking around me, trying to figure out if I was Chase Matthewson, or if I only looked like him. I didn’t pay them any attention because my focus was on my kid.
The first pitch was right down the middle and Jase didn’t swing.
“You’ve seen it, now make contact,” Gage instructed from the third base side.
The next pitch was a ball. Jase stepped out of the box with one leg, took a few cuts with the bat, and then stepped back in.
“You’ve got this, Jase,” Jamie encouraged from the stands.
The pitcher threw a fastball and Jase swung, driving the ball between the shortstop and third baseman. He hustled to first base.
