Clutch Hit by Faith O'Shea (most popular ebook readers txt) 📗

Skipping to another line of questioning, Bob asked, “What number will you be wearing?”

“Thirteen.”

“Not unlucky in your book?”

“No. It has brought a good omen.”

“It’s not unlucky for Allie, either. It was her number when she played softball in college. She was born on the thirteenth and I think she wanted to prove it was auspicious, not superstitious.”

He knew her birthday. January thirteenth. It’s why he’d chosen that number. Felicia dos Santos had lent him her laptop while he was in Brazil and he’d Googled and read everything out there on his wife. He’d missed it by a week this year but had already made plans for next. Even if she went ahead with the divorce, he’d insist on celebrating it with her.

“Casey says she was a talented player.”

“If she’d been born the right gender, she’d be fighting Seb for that position. Or maybe he’d have had to find another if he wanted to play for the Greenies. She never would have given it up.”

“They don’t have professional teams for women?”

“Not like the MLB. They have softball teams but don’t get the kind of exposure that men do.

Do women play in the big leagues in Cuba?”

“Yes. They play baseball in the Pan American Federation League.”

“The MLB is a bubble. They don’t allow for the kind of international play that exists in other countries. I think it’s to baseball’s detriment. They have been mining players from across the globe, diluting the pool. Baseball will never gain the kind of following as soccer for that very reason.”

“But America is the place we all aspire to play.”

“And some of you are willing to risk your lives to do it. There’s the other side of it, though. There are some critics out there who think the contracts are obscene and harp about the way foreign players are taking away the chances of kids who’ve gone through the system, paid their dues, and are then undercut by people like you. A Cuban’s won Rookie of the Year three years running.”

He had to consider that. Would it be fair if Seb lost his opportunity because another one of his countrymen just walked off a plane and onto the field?

“I can see that point. Especially in light of the fact that some Cubans have produced nothing for their teams. Maybe the league should be more discerning in who they sign. Talent should not be discredited, but there should be benchmarks in place to determine the player has that. There is also the fact that Cubans have gone through much to get here. Maybe not years in the farm system, which is safer than ours, but they have paid their dues.”

“You’re right. I’ve seen teams falling all over themselves to sign a foreign national just to say they got the man.”

“I am here to play baseball, yes. But it isn’t the only reason I defected.”

The term still felt toxic in his mouth. He didn’t like saying it, didn’t like doing it, but they’d given him no choice.

“If your president had honored the agreement, it would have made the process more equitable. Yes?”

“Yes. That was years in the making. If not decades. It would have gone a long way in lessening the danger for everyone, players and owners alike.”

Bob took a sip of his beer and shifted gears again.

“How do you think you’ll do in making the adjustments needed to play pro ball here?”

“What adjustments are you speaking to?”

“Aluminum bats. A longer season. Travel.”

“I began with a wooden bat and they were often used in international competition. One of the leagues I played in went from November to April. The all-star team played from May to July. I have traveled around the world on the national team. None of these things will impact my ability.”

“One of the drawbacks for some is the language. You don’t have a problem with that. You speak excellent English.”

“I made it a point to learn. I wanted to converse with other national teams and the universal language is English.”

“I’ve seen videos of you playing in Rotterdam. You have the strength, muscular ability, and build to be a power hitter. It turns out that Allie’s search for someone like you wasn’t so pie-in-the-sky as critics thought.”

“Is there a question there?”

“Power isn’t everything. I believe you have to be more strategic with your approach. Do you agree?”

“Yes. Power needs to be controlled. I can’t go to the plate looking to knock it out of the park. Not every time, anyway. If a man is on third with less than two outs, my job is to get the man home. That might mean a hit up the middle, not a home run blast. I can’t step into the box with the need to show off. It hurts the team.”

“My gut tells me you’re going to end up batting in the three-hole slot ahead of Ovitz. Will you be comfortable there?”

“No matter where I am in the line-up, my goal will be the same. Whether it’s a home run, a bloop single, or a line drive, I’ll look at what’s needed at the time and do my best to place the ball where it needs to go.”

“Now that we’ve covered the professional part of the interview, I’d like to get some more personal tidbits about your life. Are you married? Single? Left someone behind?”

Mateo’s grip on the beer tightened. How could he evade the truth without making it seem he was doing so? He’d promised he wouldn’t reveal how he got here, but this was a point- blank question about his marital status.

“Dating is not on my agenda. Baseball is. And I would not have left a woman behind.”

“Your mother is there.”

Sadness washed over him. “She is, yes, and can’t wait to see me play here. She cries that we are separated by an ocean. But I will be bringing her here as soon as I can. Otherwise I will have to wait eight years before going back to see her.”

That was the policy in place. Eight