Dropped Third Strike (Portland Pioneers #1) (29 page)

He patted Derek on the back and did his best to clear a path so the pitcher could get to his family. It wasn’t easy though. The other players, coaches, media, and fans, were eager to get a word with the big game winner. Reid knew Derek wasn’t getting up to the stands.

“You go to the press room and give your interview,” he said to Derek. “I’ll bring her to you.”

Derek nodded and gave his coach a grateful look. Reid was able to get away from the crowd more easily. He took the best route he knew to the family, whom he’d already met. Brynn wasn’t so sure about this strange man but after some coaxing from her grandparents and a promise that she was going to her daddy, she finally went into Reid’s arms.

“It’s going to be kind of loud down here,” he warned her as he made his way back to the clubhouse with her. “Just cover your ears if you need to.”

The little girl followed his instructions as the cheers echoed off the tunnel walls. Reid walked as quickly as he could to get her out of the ruckus, finally finding the media room. Derek sat at the front table with his manager, his catcher, and a few other players, fielding questions from local and national reporters.

“Daddy!” Brynn exclaimed as soon as she spotted him.

Derek looked up, grinned, and nodded at Reid, who squeezed through the crowded room to hand over the little girl.

“To answer your question,” Derek said, going back to his interview. “This little angel and the guy who brought her to me are a big part of my success this season. I was determined to be someone she could be proud of, and Reid told me I could be. All of my coaches were great this season, and I appreciate all they did for me, but Coach B was the only one who really got to me. Once he believed in me, I started to too. I would not have made it through this season without his guidance.”

Reid was humbled by the praise. Almost embarrassed. He ducked to the back of the room while Derek and the others finished the press conference. He didn’t even notice Kate was beside him until she spoke to him.

“I knew you’d be good for him,” she said softly. “You deserve every compliment he just gave you.”

He looked over at her in surprise.

“Thanks,” he said. “He’s a good kid. I didn’t do anything special. I was just there for him.”

“Exactly. You were there for him when he needed it most,” Kate said. “I don’t know the specifics, and I don’t need to. But I know you took care of him. You did a good job, Reid. Just believe that and accept it.”

Reid nodded and for a few moments neither of them said anything.

“Should we meet tomorrow about my contract?” he asked.

“No,” Kate said. “Not yet. The Pioneers still have baseball to play. Until they’re done, you’re still a Pioneer.”

Reid nodded again and left to get cleaned up. He didn’t know why he’d suggested meeting so soon about his contract. He wasn’t ready to talk about next season. He wasn’t ready to say ‘goodbye’ to her or this team. He also wasn’t ready to say ‘goodbye’ to his playing days. In other words, he still hadn’t made a definitive decision about what he wanted from baseball in the future.

Fortunately, the Pioneers gave him a little longer to think about that as they rode their momentum into Texas for a showdown with their division foes. The first two games were absolute slugfests, which ended in a split. Back in Portland, there were two great nights of pitching and low-scoring games, but the Pioneers only won one of the three home games. They trailed three games to two as they headed back to Texas to finish out the seven-game series. But their trip was a lot shorter than any of them would have liked. Rangers pitching completely shut down the Pioneers offense. The middle of the order had a few hits, but they couldn’t string enough together to score any runs. Texas handed them a 2-0 loss in game six and promptly ended the Pioneers’ season.

There were lots of tears in the clubhouse that night, and it was hard for Reid to take in as he walked among the players. He wished he knew what to say to cheer them up and remind them to take pride in what they’d done this season. But he didn’t have the words. The sting of defeat was still fresh, and he knew nothing he could say would take away what they were feeling, so he remained silent.

Silence prevailed during the flight back to Portland early the next morning. They were all eager to get home and at the same time, they were in disbelief that the season was over. There had been so many emotions in the recent days and weeks. Everyone was still reeling from the highs and lows, and it seemed no one really wanted to talk about them.

Reid hung around the ballpark for the next few days, talking to the players as they cleaned out their lockers and left to embrace the off-season. His heart was heavy as they all said they hoped to see him again in March. Reid didn’t make any firm statement about his plans, but he did promise them he would stay in touch. And he meant it.

The season had been over for a week when Reid finally sat down across from Kate in her office. They were the only two in the ballpark, but she was still in a business suit, making him glad he’d chosen black pants and a grey button-down. He always dressed nicely for travel, and his flight to New York was leaving in three hours.

“So here we are,” he said as he looked at her across the desk.

“Yes, here we are,” Kate said. “I want to start by clearing the air about our personal history.”

“Fair enough,” Reid said. “Let me have it.”

He leaned back, waiting for a lecture, a tirade, or a guilt trip. It had been almost a month since their last discussion about their past. He figured she’d have something good worked up by now.

“I don’t hate you, Reid,” she said.

He didn’t expect that.

“I’m not even mad at you.”

Another shocker.

“Yes, you broke my heart years ago, but if I’d have been smart, I would have just let you go and moved on,” she said. “Instead, I clung to the pain and let it rule my life for way too long. I’m done with that now. Our past is the past, and I’ve decided I’m not going to hold it against you anymore.”

“So what are you saying exactly?” he asked.

“I’m saying I want to try and be friends again.”

He grinned. “I’m on board with that.”

She let out a long breath and her tone changed a little.

“Now, let’s talk business,” she said. “This season was a pretty wild ride.”

Reid nodded in agreement. “Thanks for letting me be part of it.”

“You had a hand in it,” Kate said. “You exceeded my expectations as a first-year hitting coach.”

“Thank you.”

“You gave a lot to those guys,” she continued. “Even though I’m pretty sure your heart is still set on playing, you never made them feel like they were your second choice. You never made this organization feel like we were second choice.”

Reid nodded again, watching her carefully, wondering what she was going to say next. She seemed to be trying to figure that out as well. There was a long pause. He started to wonder if she was going to speak again or if that was just it. Surely, she wasn’t done yet.

“We’d like a chance to be your true first choice,” she said. “I’ve talked to your agent and a few other people around here, and we’d like to offer you a contract for next year.”

“I really appreciate that. I really don’t want to sound ungrateful as I say this,” Reid said. “I’ve enjoyed coaching, but I really want to play again.”

“I know,” Kate said. “And that’s exactly what we’re offering.”

Reid straightened and sat forward in his seat. He hadn’t even considered this option. He didn’t know it would be an option. His mind tried to figure out how it was possible.

“What? You don’t have room for me on the roster,” he said.

“Collin Ellwood is entering free agency. His agent wants to try and get him big money, and I don’t think he’ll be in our price range,” she said.

He appreciated her honesty, but also wondered if that was a slight to him.
If they couldn’t afford Ellwood, what were they offering him?

“Now, I’m not guaranteeing you playing time. You’ll have to earn that in spring training like anyone else,” she continued. “We’re offering you a chance to earn that.”

“Of course, but … why would you sign me instead of pulling someone from the minors?” he asked.

“Like I said, you gave a lot to the guys this season,” she said. “I think your mentorship for the younger players is needed in our organization – whether you’re on the bench or on the field with them.”

Reid was quiet for several moments.

“I don’t know what to say,” he said finally.

“You don’t have to give an answer now. I’ve sent a copy of our offer to your agent, and you can take this one. Look it over and give me a call,” Kate said.

Reid glanced at the contract. He only skimmed it, but he saw the dollar amount. It was fair. He was still in shock at the offer.

“I don’t know how to thank you, Kate,” he said. “For giving me a chance when I thought I was done with baseball. Or rather that it was done with me.”

“You’ve already done enough to thank me,” Kate said. “You helped this team get to postseason.”

“I had good players to work with,” he said.

“And believe it or not, dredging up our past was good for me too. It helped me move on,” she said.

Reid nodded, unsure of how he felt about that. He believed her though. There was a peace about her today that hadn’t been present the last time they talked about their past.

“Enjoy your off-season, Reid. You’ve earned it.”

Kate had been more than ready for her meeting with Reid.

In the days since they returned from Texas, she’d waited for her turn to talk to him. When he told her he wanted to stay until all the players were gone, she was impressed. It seemed Reid was just as attached to them as they were to him.

All morning, she’d waited in her office, going over her notes again and again, preparing for the moment when he sat down across from her.

She wasn’t nervous about any lingering personal feelings or negativity. She’d been relieved to see those were completely gone when he walked in and she felt no effects whatsoever. When he appeared in her doorway and folded that athletic frame into the office chair, just as he had done on the day of their interview back in January, she felt some slight déjà vu, but it passed quickly. There was no stomach turning, no heart fluttering, and no sense of dread. In fact, she had been glad to see him.

She wasn’t scared about the contract she was offering him, and it was a good one. She had worked hard on it. Hours of research, phone calls, and negotiations with Mr. Scott had gone into drafting what she considered a very fair offer. It was slightly more than what they would have offered Ellwood, but probably less than what other teams might offer Reid. And Kate was prepared for that. But at least she had tried, and in doing that she was keeping a promise she made to Derek Beaman. He had stopped by her office before leaving for the season and she told him about the offer. He was the only one outside of the team owner who knew there was a possibility Reid could come back as a player instead of a coach.

If he chose to come back.

Kate hadn’t been able to gauge his decision from his reaction to the contract. He’d seemed genuinely stunned, but beyond that, she had no idea if he was interested. She would have to wait on that.

Waiting on Reid.

Again.

This time didn’t feel the same as all the other times she’d waited for him. This time, the playing field was equal. They both had much to lose and much to gain from his decision. Everything had been said and spelled out clearly. There was no uncertainty. About anything.

As the door closed behind him, Kate sat back with satisfaction and spun her chair around to look out at the baseball field. The chalk lines had faded. The grass was a little longer than it was during the season. The scoreboards were blank. It would be months before the stands were full again. It had been a long season, and Kate was looking forward to the break, but a part of her was also already longing for the new season to begin.

A new season meant a clean slate. A chance to start over for a different ending.

Then again, she didn’t need to wait until spring for that. And she wasn’t going to. She closed up her office and drove straight to the airport.

A new season was waiting for her in Minneapolis.

Glossary

Here are some of the baseball terms and phrases used in this book.

Ace – The best starting pitcher on the team and nearly always the first pitcher in the starting rotation.

Batting average – The average performance of a batter, expressed as a ration of a batter’s safe hits per official times at bat. It is usually reported to three decimal places and read without the decimal: A player with a
batting average
of .300 is "
batting
three-hundred." A point (or percentage point) is understood to be .001.

Blooper - A weakly hit fly ball that drops in for a single between an infielder and an outfielder.

Bullpen – The relief pitchers for a baseball team and also the area where relief pitchers warm-up before entering a game.

Double play - The act of making two outs during the same continuous playing action. In baseball slang, making a double play is sometimes referred to as "turning two" or a "twin killing.”

ERA – Stands for earned run average. The mean of
earned runs
given up by a
pitcher
per nine
innings pitched
(i.e. the traditional length of a game). It is determined by dividing the number of earned runs allowed by the number of innings pitched and multiplying by nine. An ERA lower than 3.00 is considered outstanding.

Farm system – Comprised of minor league teams affiliated with a single major league team. The teams are separated by division, from "Rookie" to "Triple A" (AAA). The purpose behind such a franchise system is to allow baseball organizations to train their own talent and to control the destination of that talent, either by trading valuable prospects for skilled MLB players from other teams or by moving players from the farm team up through the ranks into the major leagues.

On base percentage - A measure of how often a batter reaches base. The full formula is OBP = (
Hits
+
Walks
+
Hit by Pitch
) / (
At Bats
+ Walks + Hit by Pitch +
Sacrifice Flies
). Batters are not credited with reaching base on an
error
or
fielder's choice
, and they are not charged with an opportunity if they make a
sacrifice bunt
.

OPS – Stands for on-base plus slugging. It’s calculated as the sum of a player’s on-base percentage and slugging average (total bases divided by at bats).

Range – The more formal term is range factor, and it is calculated by dividing putouts and assists by the number of innings or games played at a given defense position.

RBI – Stands for runs batted in.

VORP – Stands for value over replacement player. This statistic demonstrates how much a hitter contributes offensively or how much a pitcher contributes to his team in comparison to a fictitious “replacement player, who is an average fielder at his position and a below average hitter. To calculate VORP, one must multiply the league's average runs per out by the player's total outs; this provides the number of runs an average player would have produced given that certain number of outs to work with. Now multiply that number (of runs) by .8, or whatever percentage of average the replacement level is designated to be; the result is the number of runs you could expect a "replacement player" to put up with that number of outs. Simply subtract the replacement's runs created from the player's actual runs created, and the result is VORP. For example, if a hitter has a VORP of +25 runs after 81 games, he has contributed 25 more runs of offense to his team than the theoretical replacement player would have over the same span of games.

Wild card – Two teams in each of the leagues (American and National) that have qualified for the postseason despite failing to win their division. Both teams in each league possess the two best winning percentages in their respective leave after the three division winners.