Safe at First, page 30
The worst part was, no one had prepared us for this part. We spent our entire lives practicing, conditioning, and working to be a better baseball player. If we made an error in the field, we made up for it by taking five hundred ground balls the next day. If we struck out swinging, we practiced our stance at the plate and focused on our ability to read the ball as it came out of the pitcher’s hand. If we were too slow on the run from home plate to first base, we did drills. We worked on speed techniques, so we could get faster. To improve our time. To beat out that throw to first.
We were never taught how to quit.
We didn’t believe in giving up.
Our whole lives revolved around chasing this dream. From what we ate to how much sleep we got and who we let into our personal lives. Every single aspect of our mindset was on how to be a better baseball player and how to get to that next level. We were always climbing to reach that next goal. We were conditioned to never give up on that dream. No matter what. We were told that it was never out of reach.
Until it was.
Because no one had ever taught you what to do when the dream gave up on you.
No one had talked about how lost you’d feel when the one thing you’d been chasing your entire life evaporated into thin air.
Everyone walked away and expected you to pick yourself up off the floor and simply ... move. The. Fuck. On. Like that was even possible when your whole world had just been shattered into a million unrecognizable pieces.
Who were you anymore if you weren’t a baseball player chasing a dream? What the hell were you supposed to do with your life when you’d only planned for one outcome? And even more simply, what were you supposed to do with your day when it’d always been planned out for you?
No one had told us what it would feel like when this day came. They all told us how we’d feel when we got the draft call, as if every single guy who’d ever stepped on that field was lucky enough to get one. Even though, logically, we knew it didn’t happen that way, we always assumed that if it didn’t happen, it was to someone else. Lots of guys didn’t get drafted. But I wouldn’t be one of them. Right?
You see, no one had mentioned that. They all just moved on, left us behind, without realizing that we were stuck in a sea of despair, feeling like we were going to drown at any moment. Because no one had fucking prepared us for this part. Not a single damn person had told us what THIS would feel like. How utterly painful and depressing it would be to lose baseball when you were not ready for it to be over.
No one had told you that you’d fall into a hole of sadness so deep that you didn’t think you’d ever get out of it. And they sure as shit hadn’t told you what to do after you did climb up from it.
I’m here to tell you that it gets better. That there is a light at the end of the tunnel. And that you will be okay. But first, it’s really going to fucking hurt. But that’s why I’m here today. To help you through it and figure out your next steps.
Your professional baseball dreams might be over. But your new life is just beginning.
The crowd stood on their feet, roaring and clapping as I tried to smile from the center of the auditorium stage as all the lights turned on at once. I’d just finished giving a speech to local athletes from all levels of play. Some were as young as high school kids, and others were seniors in college, about to play their last season.
Telling my story had only started getting easier more recently. There were times when it still hurt like hell, and I found myself getting emotional as I tried to speak, but knowing what I’d created for these guys helped ease the pain somehow.
When I hadn’t gotten drafted, I’d thought my life was over. Even after moving to New York with Sunny. She had her new career, and I was still depressed and feeling sorry for myself. I had no idea what I was going to do or who I even was anymore. Nothing interested me. My entire identity had been wrapped up in being a ballplayer, and once that was gone, where did that leave me? DD’s words echoed in my mind, followed closely behind by Hayley’s. Both of them reminding me that I wasn’t good enough to play professional baseball, that it was all a pipe dream. I’d wondered for a while there what they had always seen that I hadn’t.
I’d spilled my guts to Chance one day over the phone in a tantrum of epic fucking proportions. To this day, I had no idea how he hadn’t hung up on me.
I screamed.
I yelled.
I cursed everyone’s existence for not helping when my world had crashed around me.
We ended the call and when Sunny walked through our front door after work, I did it all over again.
Her face lit up with a smug smirk in the midst of my absolute misery as she said, “That’s it, babe.”
“What is? What’s it?” I smacked my hand on the table, hating myself, hating baseball, hating everything on this fucking planet, except her.
“You said that there’s no one to help you guys navigate what comes next, right? For those of you who don’t get drafted.”
“Yeah. So? What’s your point?” I was being a fucking asshole, and I watched as she fingered the necklace that I’d given her for Christmas.
I’d started to realize that she did that whenever she was trying to stay calm and collected. She had been doing it a lot lately while I tested her patience.
“I think you should start a company that helps them,” she suggested as she threw a pile of folders on top of the counter. “You’ve been sitting here, all sad and depressed, but I think it’s because you’ve just been left in the wind to figure it all out on your own,” she added.
The wheels started spinning in my mind immediately, like they had always been turning and were just waiting for me to activate them.
“I could start a nonprofit. One that deals with life after baseball, specifically when you don’t get drafted. How to process that grief, that loss, and then figure out your next steps. Maybe I could have some sort of job opportunity board for all of the open coaching positions at various schools and travel baseball teams,” I started talking, and my wheels would stop spinning. “You’re a genius, babe. A fucking genius,” I said before grabbing my girl and kissing her senseless.
“I think you’d be great at it.” She gave me her trademark megawatt smile.
“I’d need funding,” I continued brainstorming out loud. “Since this isn’t something I’d want to charge the guys for. I want to provide a service. To really help.”
“What about Chance’s dad? I bet he would invest. He probably has retired baseball friends who would invest too,” Sunny added with a know-it-all grin, and the two of us sat down for the rest of the night, plotting and dreaming and making a plan.
I called Coach Carter the next day, explaining to him what I wanted to do even though I hadn’t researched every detail thoroughly yet. I wasn’t even halfway through my planned speech when he told me to shut up before texting me a picture of him signing a check.
“Look, Mac, we always need write-offs, but this is something I can really get behind,” he said through the phone. “And I know at least twenty guys who will feel the same way. Just say the word. How big do you want this to be?”
Shit. I wasn’t sure. “What do you think?”
“I think this could be as big or as small as you want. You could have physical locations in every state or make it mostly online. It’s up to you, but you’ll need a staff. You can’t be the only one who talks to all these guys. There will be too many,” he said before sucking in a breath and blowing it into the phone. “Unless you do big online meetings with multiple people at once.”
For whatever reason, my initial thought had been to be more one-on-one, but maybe that wasn’t the best move. Maybe me talking to a group of guys at the same time and then putting those guys in touch with each other, so they had an actual support system would be the better option.
“I was thinking that I’d start small and grow as necessary,” I said out loud, and he agreed immediately.
“I think this is going to take off though. So, make sure you have all the right people in place when you start,” he said. “I’ll get this check in the mail today, and I’ll reach out to a few friends who are still in the city, so you can meet with them too.”
Like the man hadn’t done enough for me already, here he was, funding my business and sending me more contacts for it. “Thank you, Coach. This means the world to me.”
“Mac, it’s a genius idea. I don’t know how no one’s done it before now.”
“Me neither,” I admitted honestly.
Because if this had been available to me after the draft, I would have utilized it. If for no other reason than to have not felt so alone. I needed to hear that what I was feeling was normal but also that it would pass. Then, I was certain that I would have wanted to work there.
“Any idea what you’re going to call it?” he asked, and I realized that in figuring out all the particulars, I hadn’t even thought about a name.
“Not yet,” I admitted.
“You’ll think of something,” he said, and I knew he was right.
This was a good thing, and I couldn’t wait to get started.
Epilogue
The Off-Season
Mac
“Honey, I’m home.” My silver-haired goddess waltzed through the front door of the Sutton Place condo we shared with Danika and Chance whenever they were in town. She had a giant grin on her beautiful face.
We were so thankful and lucky that Jack and Cassie Carter had let us move into this place, insisting that it was just “sitting empty, so someone should enjoy it.”
But still, this place was gorgeous, and we never could have afforded to live in such splendor without their generosity. It had been a bit of an emotional adjustment for me at first, being around Chance. His life still revolved around baseball, and mine didn’t. Hearing about it hurt. But the more I started to feel good about what I was doing for other guys, the easier it was to let go of the pain. This was important work, and I’d found purpose in doing something good that helped other guys like me.
And to be honest, Chance fucking Carter had more talent in his pinkie finger than most of us had in our entire bodies. He deserved to be playing professional baseball. Even if I no longer was.
And I was okay with that.
“How was work, babe?” I asked, pressing a kiss to her lips.
“Awesome! I freaking love this city. And I love my job,” she said, her whole face lighting up like the sun itself.
Once she’d started working for Danika and learned the ropes, Sunny had realized how good she was at finding beautiful places for clients to consider. She was excited and honest—two qualities that they seemed to adore in her. I completely understood their admiration.
Sunny and Danika made one hell of a team, and they were constantly slammed with work. Their division had grown so quickly via word of mouth that they both had assistants already. My sweet girl, who had had no idea what she wanted to do with her life, now had her own assistant. She was such a badass.
“Where’s Danika? She left the office before I did.” Sunny looked around the apartment for her best friend, seemingly confused by her absence.
“Chance took her out the second she got home,” I said, knowing that tonight was the night Chance was going to propose.
He’d had the ring for a fucking year already, but he kept holding on to it instead of using it. He said he was waiting for the right time, but he’d confessed to me one night that he wanted Danika’s division to be fully up and running before he distracted her with wedding planning. And now that our girls were a huge hit within the business, there was no time like the present. But his consideration for her success was just one of the reasons why I respected him so much.
I pulled out a bottle of wine and tossed a bottle of champagne in the freezer.
“What are you doing? Are we celebrating?” Sunny asked, her eyes wide.
“Yes, but not until later.” I pulled her against me and kissed her nose. “You know how proud I am of you, right?”
She blushed and looked away from my eyes. “You tell me all the time.”
“Well, I don’t want you to forget.”
“I’m proud of you too. Look what you built!” She pulled away from me and pointed at the framed baseball magazine on the wall that had my face on the cover.
It was a full-length feature spread, talking all about my business, Life After Baseball, and what I provided for players whose careers were coming to an end.
It was a really well-written piece that had made the business explode. Various coaches across the country singing my praises was one thing, but the nationwide exposure had taken the business to a whole new level.
I now had staff and locations in ten states aside from the main headquarters here in New York. Every person who worked for me was an ex–baseball player who had been through the emotional wringer when his time came to an end. I had study courses designed and set up that each staff member had to take and familiarize themselves with. I wanted our players dealt with from the same main angle and perspective.
Of course, every player was different, but the purpose of our program was to help guide them out of the dark and back into the real world. We showed them that there was more to their life than just being a baseball player. And we focused on all the things that had molded us, like being part of a team, and how we could apply that to other areas in our lives.
For example, every athlete had learned teamwork at an early age; how to take direction from higher-ups—coaches; how to deal with difficult personalities—other players; how to fight against diversity—people thinking you weren’t good enough or beating someone out for a position; and how to be a leader. All of these were helpful tools that could be utilized, going forward, no matter what type of career they moved into.
“Chance is proposing tonight,” I blurted out, and Sunny’s mouth dropped wide open. “Wait! I mean, act surprised. Don’t tell her you knew. He might not do it,” I kept running off at the mouth.
Sunny started doing a little dance in the kitchen.
“How long have you known this?” She swatted my shoulder, and I growled. My girl was still always hitting me.
“I knew he was going to ask her soon. But I didn’t know about tonight until today,” I admitted. “But, babe, you can’t tell her you knew!” I warned, and she pretended to zip her lips and throw away the key.
“I’m so excited for her.” She pressed a kiss to my lips before hopping into my arms and wrapping her legs around my waist. “We’re next, right?” she asked, and I pretended to choke before she said she was just joking.
I’d had the ring for about a month now. A beautiful square-shaped diamond, encrusted with yellow stones that matched her necklace. It was hiding in my old baseball bag in the closet, but I wasn’t telling her that. Her dad had already given me his blessing. I’d asked him for it the last time they flew out.
Sunny’s parents had visited us twice already, and if I didn’t know any better, I’d think her mom was trying to convince her dad to retire out here. It was never going to happen, but I thought Sunny’s mom enjoyed tormenting her dad.
Speaking of parents, my mom had bought her own townhouse and was officially divorced from DD. When she’d heard rumors that the old bookstore on Main was set to close their doors for good, she’d put in an offer, resuming her old title as event planner as well as owner. I’d never seen her happier. And the old store was thriving again with book signings and events happening weekly, all because of her.
I felt like I finally understood where my entrepreneurial spirit had come from, and it wasn’t from Dick Davies. DD’s blood was filled with dollar signs. He and I weren’t the same. He’d tried to screw my mom out of substantial sums of money during the divorce by hiding it in things like Bitcoin and overseas accounts, but he had gotten caught and had to give her half of everything anyway. Apparently, he was pretty pissed off about all that. I didn’t know because we still didn’t talk. And as sad as that might be, I felt more relieved than anything.
The truth was, I didn’t miss him, and I rarely thought about him. The guy simply didn’t cross my mind. I was happier without his drama and negativity in my life. Sunny refused to let me feel bad about that, so I didn’t.
I didn’t have much to feel bad about these days. Things had fallen into place when I thought they never would. See, if someone had told me back then that I’d never see the sun the same way again, I would have believed them. I would have agreed that it didn’t have quite the same shine anymore. It was duller somehow.
But I would have been wrong.
Because life after baseball was shaping up to be more beautiful than I could have ever hoped for.
I looked at my silver-haired goddess and knew she felt the exact same way. I couldn’t wait for the next steps in our life, and it suddenly took everything in me not to run into the closet, pull out the ring, and drop to one knee right here in the kitchen.
Chance would kill me if I took away his proposal thunder. And probably kick me out of the house. I could always do it tomorrow instead. That way, the girls could plan their weddings together at the same time.
A double wedding? I could think of worse things.
THE END
Damn. I’m not sure how you’re feeling right now, but that story was such a hard one for me to write, but it was also SO IMPORTANT for me to tell. I wanted to talk about it. The part that no one tells you. How not every single guy gets drafted, but how badly they all want it. Some more than others. When they lose that part of them, it’s devastating—to them and those around them. Most players keep it buried deep inside because it hurts so damn bad to think about, let alone talk about.
There is always a light at the end of the tunnel, but you have to get through the tunnel first. And sometimes that’s a very isolating and lonely journey.
To everyone who wanted it, and didn’t quite get it, you’re still worthy and worth it. I hope you find a new dream and crush it. Baseball doesn’t know what it’s missing.
