Hubbard drove home alone for dinner that evening. The plan was for them all to eat at Alec’s house, then Hubbard would return to the stadium for the game, and the two boys would have some time together alone before Cal would come get Joel and take him home.
Hubbard groused at dinner, speaking to Joel, but principally getting frustrations off his chest. “We need more offense. We have a better-than-average defense, our pitching is good, but we don’t match up with the top teams offensively. Finding good solid dependable hitters is difficult—and so expensive.”
Joel nodded. “You can trade for good hitters, but that just weakens the position where your trade bait is now playing. I’m sure you don’t want to weaken your defense to help the offense. That’s robbing Peter to pay Paul and in the long run doesn’t help much. I do have a suggestion, though. Again, I’m sure it’s one you’re already considering.”
Hubbard laughed. “I love to hear your thoughts. You never just take the simple way out. You figure all the angles. What’s your idea?”
“Obviously, one of the traditional ways to add talent to the team without being disruptive is to bring a player up from the minors who has great potential. You have one there who may be ready: Jersey Rolf. He’s had an unusually rapid rise through the farm system, he’s in triple-A ball now, and he’s hitting over .300 there. He’s a better-than-average third baseman. Fast, steals bases, high on-base average, good leadoff or number-two-hole hitter. Doesn’t show the power of most third basemen but makes up for that by being on base a lot of the time.”
Hubbard smiled. “Yes—I’ve had my eye on him and have thought about bringing him up. He would help the offense eventually—ideally, even quickly. He seems a fast study. But then, what do I do with Hagman? He’s still got two years to go on a pretty hefty contract?”
“Trade him to the Orioles. They need a third baseman now that Thomas is injured and might not return. Get a couple of prospects for Hagman and dump his contract.”
“But for this to work, it depends on Rolf being successful. It’s a gamble.”
“That’s why they pay you the big bucks: to make good with your gambles. Seems Rolf is a pretty sure thing; he’s hit at every level, but you never know how he’ll perform here till you see him against major league pitching. Why not bring him up and audition him against your pitchers? If he can hit them, you’ll know more than you do now. Oh, and something more—the fans will love the excitement Rolf’ll bring to the games.”
“Sure glad you’re not applying for my job, Joel. It’s uncanny how you come up with the same thoughts that have run through my head. It supports my own thinking, hearing what you have to say. Means I’m not tilting at windmills.”
“There’s just one thing.” That came from Alec. He was in a delicate situation here, not wanting to reveal the source of what he needed to tell his dad. The fact was, he’d spoken to Joel about Tanner’s problem: disliking playing with the Angels, liking the thought of moving to the Otters, and wanting a boyfriend. He’d asked Joel if he knew of any young players on the Otters who were gay. And Joel had told him that there was one on their triple-A club: a kid named Jersey Rolf. He had a Germanic-Norse name but played the game like a Dominican, which was where he’d been raised. How Alec knew that this kid was gay wasn’t something he wanted to talk to his dad about. So, he equivocated.
“I’ve heard a rumor that the Rolf kid is gay. He’s supposedly out, and with the attitude in the country now, even among athletes, he’s been accepted on the teams he’s played with. You’re the one who set the policy of acceptance here, so you know he’d be fine with us. I don’t think his being gay is anything we’d have to consider.”
“A rumor?” Hubbard seemed to ignore the rest of what Alec said and instead was concentrating on why Alec would even bring this up. There was suspicion and doubt in Hubbard’s voice.
“I don’t remember from whom. Probably Joel. Now that I’ve gotten him talking, he never shuts up.”
Joel poked him in the ribs, and Alec reflexively said, “Ouch.”
“Well, that won’t be a problem with us. Maybe other teams, but that’s not a factor with us. I’ll kick this around with my group of scouts and see if Baltimore’s interested.”
««« »»»
Tanner texted Alec that evening.
Tanner: «I’m starting tonight. Playing the Cards. Bad night coming. Probably get yanked in the 2nd.» He added a smiling emoji.
Alec: «Tanner! Be smart! You can’t throw fat pitches purposefully. That’s like throwing a game, and you know you can’t do that. You’d be banned for life. If you see the Cards are aware of your tell, you can use that, but still you have to pitch your best. Anything less would just be wrong—ethically, morally, I don’t know. Just wrong. I don’t think there’d be a problem if you simply make your tell a bit more obvious—just a bit—but that’s all you can do! These are major league hitters, though. That’ll probably be enough»
««« »»»
The next day, the Sea Otters announced they’d traded Rod Hagman to the Orioles and were bringing Jersey Rolf up from the minors to play third. Hubbard told Eli to bat him eighth for the first few games to let him get comfortable. Then the plan was to move him higher in the order if he was doing okay.
He was doing better than okay. In his first game, batting from the right side, the kid got two hits, both fast balls slapped to right field. He also stole a base and misplayed a ball that took a weird bounce hitting the corner of the third base bag. The fans gave him a huge hand after the steal, and he received many hugs and backslaps in the dugout.
Alec was at the game, up in Hubbard’s box, and was delighted. He’d spent a lot of the game looking at Rolf through his binoculars. The kid was just Tanner’s age, and was he ever good-looking! School was still out on his personality, but from what Alec could see, the kid was perfect.
««« »»»
Hubbard was in his office after the game, finishing up the legal papers involving the two players who had just been relocated. He was feeling good about them both. Hagman had been showing signs of being over the hill: fewer homers and RBIs, a step slower in the field. Rolf had come in with all jets roaring.
His mood was shattered when his phone rang. He glanced at the clock and was surprised to see it was after midnight. Easy to lose time doing paperwork. He answered and found he was speaking to Hank Fellows, the Admin gate attendant and jack-of-all-trades around the stadium.
“Hey, Hank. You still here? It’s late.”
“I’m usually the last one out. I always check all the doors. But I saw something that, well, I don’t know, but thought you might like to know. There’s still one car left in the players’ parking area. I’m pretty sure it’s the rental you got for the new kid.”
“Okay. Thanks, Hank. I’ll check it out.”
He didn’t waste time but walked directly to the players’ clubhouse. Inside, the lights were still on, but no one was there. He continued on to the locker room and found Rolf sitting on his stool, staring into the locker.
Hubbard approached him. “Hey, Jersey. It’s late. You okay? Hey, you were great tonight. Anything I can help you with?”
Jersey glanced up at him and sighed. “You know, Mr. Rafferty, I’ve been dreaming of this day, getting a chance in the bigs, seeing if I could play with these guys. And then the game was great, and I was so happy. Next thing you know, after the game, the manager calls me into his office. Doesn’t even let me sit down. Starts chewing me out for that fluke hit down the third baseline. He got red in the face, then suddenly it was a rant about how he’d never had a gay player on his teams—he used a different word than ‘gay’—how they can’t play this game, and how that ball I missed was an example of how guys like me couldn’t cut it in this league. Said he wasn’t surprised I’d fucked it up because that was what he expected from a faggot. Said I’d never play for the Otters again, that he was going to tell you to send me down or, preferably, trade or release me.”
“He really said that?”
“He used more cuss words than I’ve ever heard. Most of them had to do with my orientation. Hell, the players don’t mind. They were fine with me. Not with him, though. I came out from his office, and they’d all heard him screaming at me. The place was silent; they were all embarrassed for me. For me! Most of them were showered and dressed, a lot were on their way out. But after I left that office, everyone that passed me reached out and touched me or squeezed my shoulder. I’ve never felt that much compassion, so much support from teammates before.
“I guess I’m not wanted, though. Should I just go back to Triple-A tomorrow?”
“Absolutely not! You were great, and I’m delighted to have you with us. A couple more games batting eighth and I’ll have you moved up. In my head, you’re a perfect second hitter in our lineup. No, you’re not going anywhere. But Eli Cranshaw has just managed his last game for the Otters.”
Hubbard left a message for Jim Turner, the clubhouse manager; he wanted to talk to Eli Cranshaw and Brad Towers when they came in the next day. It didn’t matter who showed up first; he was to send that one up to his office when he arrived. Jim was to hold the other one till Hubbard called and said he was ready for the other one to be sent up.
««« »»»
The next morning, Alec went online to check the Angels’ game. They’d lost, and Tanner had indeed been pulled in the second inning. He’d only given up two runs, but the Cards did seem to know what pitches were coming, and the Angels decided to pull him before the game got out of hand.
Alec quickly texted Tanner.
Alec: «What did they say to you?»
Tanner: «They said they’d talk to me tomorrow. They didn’t seem happy.» Two smiling emojis were attached.
Alec: «Stop with the emojis, and for cripes sake, dump all these texts now.»
Tanner: «Uh, okay. How did you get so smart?»
After some thought . . . Alec: «The Shadow knows. Ha ha ha ha. Keep me posted.»
««« »»»
Eli came to the stadium in mid-afternoon, hours before the game. He had no life outside baseball and was frequently early. Jim Turner met him at the clubhouse door and told him Mr. Rafferty wanted to see him ASAP.
“I’ll just drop my stuff in my office and then see what he wants,” Eli grunted, but Jim moved in front of the door and said, “He said as soon as you arrived. I’m just passing on his request.”
“Fuck that. I’ll go up when I feel like it.”
“I’d suggest that be right now. He didn’t sound very patient when he spoke to me, and making him wait longer than he needs to doesn’t seem a prudent strategy to me. I’m to tell him when you arrive. In any case, you’re not getting into the clubhouse without removing me, and I suggest you not even consider that.”
Eli swore again, then made his way up to Hubbard’s office.
Hubbard directed him to sit, then said, “I talked to Jersey last night after the game. He told me you’d called him a faggot and used many other derogatory terms. Is that true?”
“Yeah, I did. I don’t want a fudge packer playing for me.”
“There won’t be. You’re terminated as of this moment. You’re to collect your things and leave. Two security guards will accompany you and see that you take nothing but personal items.”
“You can’t fire me! I have another year and a half on my contract. You can’t even pay that off; I’ll sue for damages. No, I’ll remain manager for that year and a half. My agent has a copy of the contract if you need to see it.”
“Eli, I’m sick of your bluster, your bullying, and your disgustingly uncouth and biased conduct. I know what your contract says better than you do. You’ve probably never read it. I have an unsigned copy of the standard contract all players and contract employees sign. Let me read you the salient part.
“It says: The Sea Otters may terminate the Employee for Cause, which shall include, but not be limited to, gross negligence, willful misconduct, material breach of this Agreement, substantial failure to perform job duties, or intentional breach of Sea Otter policies (including the prohibition regarding discrimination or harassment based on race, creed, religion, national origin, gender, or sexual orientation). In the event of termination for Cause, the Employee shall not be entitled to any severance or additional compensation.
“Is that clear enough for you, Eli? I have a copy of your contract in my files, and it has that statement along with your signature.”
Hubbard stopped and stared at Eli, who for the moment was wordless. “You’re done here, and your contract won’t protect you. Your salary has ended as of today. The rest of what you would have earned in the next year and a half is forfeited. “I do thank you for making your dismissal so easy. Your diatribe against Jersey with about thirty witnesses was all I needed.
“Now, get out!”
Eli got up and headed for the door, his bright-red face leading the way. Outside, he found two bulky security men waiting. They accompanied him to his locker and watched what he put in the box they’d given him. There were several things, including some souvenirs and paperwork, that they said they’d send to him if it was determined to actually be his property, and his rancorous bluster didn’t have any effect on them. They escorted him all the way out the door of Willamette Stadium. As they passed Hank, they told him Eli was never to be allowed back in.
Next up was Brad Towers. His demeanor when he came into Hubbard’s office was much different from Eli’s. Where Eli was combative and contrary, Brad was low-key, almost laid back, and amiable. Hubbard pointed to the chair still warm from Eli’s backside, and when Brad was seated, he began with, “How’d you like to manage the Otters, Brad?”
“It would be my dream job unless Eli was promoted and I’d be working under him. Then it would be a nightmare and I’d refuse it.”
“Eli’s no longer a Sea Otter. He’s history. The job’s yours if you want it. I’d like to make some stipulations, though. I think the team’s been underachieving, probably due to everyone playing tight in an effort to escape Eli’s wrath. I don’t want them tight. I want them playing the way they’re capable of and having fun doing it. I want them cheering for each other. I want to see them alive and active in the dugout. I want you to motivate with instruction and praise. Eli’s way didn’t work. It never would with today’s players.
“I know you, Brad, better than I ever knew or understood Eli. I inherited him with the job and never did like him. I hired you. I finally had a way to get rid of Eli, and I took it.”
“His tantrum last night? Good for you. Just so you know, I stayed a while, talking to Jersey. He was really upset. He said he had no idea the majors was like this. I told him it usually isn’t, and to hang on as things would probably get better. It didn’t soothe him much.”
“I spoke to him, too. When he heard he’ll not be playing under Eli, I could see him perk up. He could still feel the sting from his lambasting, though. That’ll last, unfortunately, but there was hope in his eyes, too. I think we have a winner there. So, you’ll come on board?”
“I’ve been waiting and hoping for this chance for 20 years. Darn right I’ll take it.”
««« »»»
Alec received another text from Tanner after he’d met with the Angels’ hierarchy.
Tanner: «Going to get one more start, then they’ll move me to the bullpen if that doesn’t go well. It’s a process.»
Alec: «Rome wasn’t built in a day. Big change here: Eli’s history.»
Tanner: «Wow. Towers promoted? He always seemed so much easier going than Eli.»
Alec: «Yep, and they brought up a new third baseman. Can’t wait for you to meet him.»
Tanner: «Got to run. Just got called. These people want to talk to me again.»
Alec: «Hang loose.»
««« »»»
Brad met with all the Otters’ players that evening before the game. He told them his main rule was for everyone to get along with each other and cheer for each other and to play for each other. He wanted harmony on the team. He said there’d be no more yelling at players and that he’d find the time to talk individually with each of them. If there were things they needed to work on, he’d point them out, not to belittle or demean, but so they’d know what improvements he’d like to see.
“We’ve got a ton of talent on this team. What we want to do is win every three- and four-game series we play from now on. That’s no pipedream. That’s how good you guys are. My hope is you guys start enjoying the game again. My door is always open if anyone wants to talk.
“Just one last thing. You all heard Eli chewing out Jersey last night. I, like the rest of you, thought Jersey brought new energy and talent to our team. I saw you all supporting him, too. I was so proud seeing that. This isn’t the eighties or nineties or even early 2000s. Eli was way out of date. I assume no one here cares whether Jersey is gay or not. Is there anyone who would object to him playing here, even showering with you after games?”
He paused and looked around the room, met each player’s eyes. He felt very good when no one dropped theirs. “Good. Just as I thought. Jersey, welcome to the team. I’m grateful we have you. You want to say anything?”
Jersey stood up. “Yeah, I do. I was really hurting coming out of Eli’s office, and I can’t tell you how much the way you all showed compassion and support after that helped; I really needed that, and you were there for me. Thank you from the bottom of my heart. You’re great teammates; I can see that already.”
He sat back down, and Brad posted that night’s lineup, the first one of his long career. Jersey was batting eighth.
««« »»»
Alec received another text.
Tanner: «They changed their minds. They finally decided that it wasn’t the quality of my pitches, but the tipping of them that was the problem.»
Alec: «So what’s their plan?»
Tanner: «They said they don’t want to mess with a pitcher’s mechanics at this level. That gets done in the minors, and they want to send me down.»
Alec wanted to cheer but held back. He wasn’t sure how private these texts were, and they were chancing Tanner’s career if they were caught trying to tweak things behind the scenes. So instead of cheering, he texted again.
Alec: «What did you say to them?»
Tanner: «I said I was okay being sent down.»
Alec: «So, they’re doing it?»
Tanner: «They said there’s a formality first. I’m affected by Rule 5 provisions. They have to put me on the waiver wire, but not to worry; no one will pick me up because of my recent performances and the salary they’d have to assume—as well as having to carry me on their active roster for the rest of the year.»
Alec: «Sorry you’re being demoted. When do you go on the waiver wire?»
Tanner: «They said today.»
Posted 12 April 2025