The Prospect - Eliot Parker (top 10 novels .txt) 📗

the sounds of their pattering feet.
“Pretty boy,” Biggie uttered with his trademark baritone voice. “I don’t have to support you on shit you fucking choad. When you can pitch like you did today all season long, then you will get the support you want.” Biggie turned his head and his nostrils flared.
“Mann likes your rookie ass and that is fine. Just don’t expect everyone on this team to like you.” He swiped his finger over the brim of Shane’s hat. “Why don’t you just keep your fucking hole quiet and let your arm do the talking.” When he was done tracing Shane’s cap brim, he reached with his left hand and socked Shane in the chest.
Shane gasped and fell on one knee. He held his chest tightly, wheezing and coughing, trying to catch his breath. His eyes watered and his mouth became dry.
When he did manage to gather some air, most of the Loggers had run into the locker room.
Shane could hear a faint noise in the background. He looked up and saw Frank Miller and Phil Rodney shouting and motioning for him to come to the wall behind the dugout. Shane sauntered over and smiled at the two men.
“Hey Mr. Miller and Mr. Rodney. Good to see you.”
“No, no,” interjected Phil “it is good to see you. You were as great today as I have ever seen a pitcher in this here ballpark.” Meanwhile, Frank shot a puzzled look at Phil, who had been inconsistent in his belief in Shane’s potential and performance.
“Thanks..I appreciate that.” Sweat was dripping from his face and he could feel strands of hair falling into his eyes.
Phil turned to Frank and smacked him on the back.
“Shane, I did not think you could do it, but let me be the first to say, you proved me wrong. Great job today.” He outstretched his right hand and he and Shane shook hands firmly.
Shane had always liked Phil Rodney, but he considered him to be a man who always conformed to other people. He did not like confrontation, and usually told people in Sheaville whatever they wanted to hear about any topic in general. Shane did not know if that was a quality to admire or reject, but he found it peculiar nevertheless.
Shane paused for a moment and stared at the ground. With his eyes squinted, he asked the question he had been thinking about all afternoon.
“Did mama make it today?”
Both men looked at each other. Frank ran his fingers over his mustache and mumbled. “No, no Shane she didn’t. I’m sorry.”
Shane wiped the sweat pouring from his nose and then took his cap of his head. “Thanks for being honest with me. I’ll catch you later. Thanks for coming!”
With that, he trotted into the dugout to join his teammates.


VI.

Nothing excited Walter Mann more than giving victory speeches to his players. Nothing was more loathed by the Sheaville Loggers players than listening to their manager give speeches. However, speeches and lectures-albeit over wins, losses, or slips in personal character-were the normal part of life in minor league baseball. Managers assume correctly that players do not improve without consistent coaching about baseball and life in general. When you have a roster of 30 baseball players from across the world, all with emotional baggage brought about from their upbringings, combined with the naïve inexperience of being a young adult, sometimes coaching and speeches are the least of a manager’s worries.
Mann made sure his speeches always started out on a good note. He always mentioned to the team what they did well in any particular game, even recognizing individual players for their contributions to the win or loss. “Pluses builds self-esteem” is a phrase the portly manager always repeats to his team, time and time again. Yet Walter always made sure the Loggers knew and understood what cost them a victory. These statements became the crux of practices and batting practice.
The reactions from the players were always mixed. Shane Triplet always listened and sometimes even took notes on what was being said. Biggie Rowan was usually stuffing a candy bar in between his thick, shapely lips, often breathing so heavily that some players believed that air conditioning had been installed in the locker room. Ryan Head and Harry Deitzler usually daydreamed and Chaz Martinez often took small naps during this time, because after being on the team for a couple of seasons, his conclusion was that he had listened to Walter Mann enough and that sleep was something to be attained at any given opportunity.
Walter never really chastised the players for not listening. After playing a 3-to-4 hour baseball game, he knew their attention spans would be short. But the possibility that one player was listening, and usually that was Shane, gave the manager the justification to continue his lectures.
As the month of April progressed, the lecturing, the “fundamental practices” and the familiarity of the baseball season routine began to pay huge dividends for the Sheaville Loggers. The opening month of the season finished better than the beginning. After starting the season 0-3, the Loggers creamed the rest of their rivals in the ABA. The Macon Braves, Lexington Legends, and the Greensboro Bats were winless against the Loggers. More impressively was the fact that Lexington and Greensboro only scored 9 runs against them in 8 games. The Columbus RedStixx did manage to earn a 2-2 series split with the Loggers, but Sheaville only lost those two games by three runs.
Shane Triplet pitched in three of those games. His command and control of his fastball mixed with his knee-buckling curveball earned him ABA player of the month. His earned run average, or the average number of runs scored against him when he pitched, dropped from 4.14 to a miniscule 1.43. He led the ABA in strikeouts with 39 and was finally living up to some of the great expectations placed on him by his teammates, himself, and more importantly, the Sheaville community.
By May 2, the Loggers were facing their first extended road trip of the season; ten games in fourteen days against three different teams in three different cities. The trip would take the Loggers to Lexington, Kentucky, Columbus, Ohio, and finally to Lakewood, New Jersey and back to Sheaville. Walter was not concerned about the veterans on this road trip-they knew what to expect. However, keeping the rookies nerves under control would be a challenge.
The Sheaville Loggers had two days of practice before the trip began. Thanks to the breakdown of the Delmarva Shorebirds’ team bus following their latest road trip on May 1, the Loggers got an extra afternoon of practice to compliment their already scheduled day off.
Chaz Martinez saw his manager pacing towards the bullpen and took the opportunity to approach Ryan Head in the batting cage behind home plate. Walter did not like laziness or foolishness during practice, so players misbehaved when his back was turned. In some ways, it was difficult to discern if the players were young adults or young adolescents.
“Is that swing getting any better?” asked Chaz, slightly accenting his words with with a slight Spanish accent. “We are going to need your bat on this road swing.”
At first, Ryan ignored Chaz and took another couple of swings at baseballs discharged from the pitching machine. Ryan’s first swing earned him nothing but a warm breeze but he made solid contact with the ball and drove it into left field.
“Last I looked, I was h..h…hitting .295 and you were h…h…hitting .263,” redirected Ryan. “Speaking of swings, you took s…s…some big whiffs against Columbus during that last series. Maybe y…y…you need some time in the cage.”
“Well, one of those strikeouts was because that umpire was four feet of the inside corner and he called me out,” retorted Chaz. Ryan knew where this was heading.
When Chaz struggled at the plate-which was one of the main reasons Ryan believed he was still in the ABA instead of moving up to AA competition-he always had an excuse. If Ryan had a nickel for every single Chaz Martinez excuse, he would be a billionaire.
“I see that look on your face, Head. Don’t worry, I will get my swing back in time for the Charleston series. You can count on it.”
“…b…b…but we have three other opponents before them. We may need you to h…h…hit a little against them,” reminded the second baseman.
Chaz’s voice suddenly screeched as he responded. “Hey, speaking of creamy, what are we going to get into on this road trip. Hookers? Strippers? Beer?” The shortstop was talking so fast, saliva was being launched from his mouth and landing on Ryan’s dusty but once dry uniform.
“W…we will have a g…g…good time.” Ryan slung his bat down next to home plate and jogged to the pitching machine to turn it off. His gaze trailed off to the right and he saw Shane and Biggie playing catch in the bullpen. Neither of them were speaking to each other. Ryan wished that his friend and Biggie would reach a truce, but Ryan was completely aware of Biggie Rowan’s dislike for rookies, especially highly touted rookies who had proven nothing. Thinking of Shane, Ryan fired a question at Chaz Martinez.
“D…d…didn’t you and Shane already have t…this discussion?” Ryan’s voice was hollow and it trailed off against the outfield wall and the large green mountain, which always watched over Clark Field.
“Ah, he needs to learn to enjoy things, Chaz responded.”
“A…a…at whose expense?”
“Who said anything about expense?”
Ryan jogged back to the batting cage and faced Chaz, rolling his eyes. “Well, you have a r..r…reputation for causing s…someone an e…e…expense on road trips. Sometimes it’s monetary, s…s…sometimes it physical, sometimes it’s r…r…r…really physical…”
Chaz interrupted. “Look, how was I supposed to know that chick in Hickory last summer had crabs. You really couldn’t tell by just looking at her.”
“ Y…y…you could minus the three pitchers of beer you g…guzzled.”
That night last year in Hickory, North Carolina was indeed a night to remember. The Loggers were crushed by the Crawdads 11-2 during a horrendously hazy, hot, and humid evening. Tired and dehydrated, some of the players, including Chaz, Biggie, and Ryan went to a bar across the street from the ballpark. Harry Deitzler would have come along, but he missed the game with back spasms and could not walk very well.
After talking with some of the Hickory fans and listening to the taunting and trash talking, one of the Hickory players, closer Andrew Pickney, decided to buy the Loggers players some pitchers of beer for acting like true professionals as they were getting obliterated on the field. Pickney originally bought three pitchers of beer for the whole team, but Chaz decided to drink the three pitchers himself.
What happened next has been the subject of debate in the Sheaville Loggersclubhouse. Eventually, Chaz ended up with one of Hickory’s notorious town prostitutes and got genital crabs through sexual intercourse. Chaz never figured out he had genital crabs until he could not stop scratching his crotch. Walter Mann suggested he go to Charleston to the Kanawha County Health Department and get tested. Three weeks and 64 ounces of antibiotic cream later, Chaz Martinez was cured.
Ryan could not resist poking fun at his infield partner. “I…i…in fact, I do not think I am going to sit next to you on the b…b…bus on Wednesday. Y…y…you might have s…something else bad d…d…down there,” Ryan pondered, point to Chaz’s groin.
“Damn, Head, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say your J-E-A-L-O-U-S.” Chaz spelled the word “jealous” several times waving his hands over his head. “Stank cuchie is better than none at all. You should try some sometime.”
Before Ryan could respond,