They weren’t going to be able to play Nerf football the next day. Towers had scheduled early batting practice; they had a day game coming up, and he wanted to re-familiarize the players with batting and fielding in sunlight.
Alec called Cal to pick up Joel and drive him home, while Alec went to the stadium with his father. After finishing his job in the clubhouse, Alec walked up to the field. Batting practice was just getting started, many players moving to the outfield to catch fungos, some doing infield drills, some getting in line to hit next.
Alec saw Trevor and waved and walked over to him. “Why are you here? They certainly don’t need a batboy at a practice.”
“I like to come. I shag flies in the outfield and rag on the players, like they do on me. It’s fun messing with them out there. Sometimes, I’d even get a couple of swings when Eli had already left the field. He made a habit of turning practices over to the coaches as soon as he could.”
“Could I do that?” Alec asked. “Shag flies?”
“Sure. Brad’s great; just ask him. As you sorta outrank him, what’s he going to do, say no?”
Alec laughed but went to see Brad. “Mr. Towers, I’m Alec Rafferty. Trevor said you might let me shag flies like he does. I’d like to do that if it’s okay.”
“Sure. Grab yourself a mitt. The players usually have more than one and leave the spares in the dugout. I’d advise you to get out of the way of line drives unless you have lots of experience. Sometimes they knuckle, they can come at you really fast, and you could get hurt.”
“Okay. Thanks a lot, sir.”
“Brad. Everyone calls me Brad. I prefer it. I remember you from that game in Anaheim. You stood up to Eli. Not many do that. You’ve got a lot of—well, I’d say ‘balls’ if you weren’t the GM’s son—a lot of moxie, kid.”
Alec found a glove and trotted out to the field, standing next to Trevor, who’d just found himself a position there. When a fly ball came their way, they both shouted, “Mine. Mine.” They were both under it and just as it was descending, Trevor gave Alec a shove and caught it.
“What the—!”
“That’s sort of the way it goes here. If a ball is obviously going to be caught by just one person, no one bothers him. But if it’s where two or more people would contend for it, it’s best man wins. I guess I was the best man this time.”
“Best man bullshit! I didn’t know what was coming. Now I do. Best man, my ass!”
Trevor started laughing, and Alec joined in. There were a couple more contested balls. Alec caught one of them by widening his stance, so when Trevor pushed him he was rock solid, immovable. The other two balls dropped because the boys were more into a wrestling match for position than catching the ball. It was a miracle neither of them got hit.
After the practice, Alec went up to his father’s office. Allison let him go in. He grabbed a chair by his dad’s desk.
“Where does the trade for Tanner stand, Dad?”
“It’s been sent to the league and ratified. I spoke to him on the phone. He has three days to report. I said we could use him now, but if he has things to do, he should take all the time he needs. He said he’d come early. He didn’t specify. But he sounded eager to be here.”
Alec took out his phone and texted Tanner. Alec: «When will I see you?»
A minute later, he received, Tanner: «ETA 1 PM at PDX»
Alec looked at the clock. It was 11:30. He texted Tanner, Alec: «I’ll pick you up. Meet you outside the doors closest to baggage claim» Then he called Cal.
««« »»»
Joel was with Alec at the airport, and they both hugged Tanner on the sidewalk when he came out of the doors near baggage claim. “Don’t you have a carryon?” Joel asked.
“Nope, no luggage at all. I shipped it. Don’t have to fuss with anything or wait for a bag on the carousel this way.”
“But you won’t have any stuff.”
“I called Mom and told her I’d be by to pick up some of my clothes.”
Joel looked upset. “Are you staying there, then?”
“No, I called Dad, too. Been way too long since I saw him, and I’d rather be with you. I asked if I could stay at his house till I find a place. He said he was delighted. But for about a week, the team is paying for a hotel room which is closer to the stadium, and I’ll take advantage of that. Following that, I’ll stay with Dad till I can find a place of my own. I need to grab some clothes and maybe a couple of books from Mom’s house, and then we can go to the hotel and get checked in. Then I’m eager to get to the stadium.”
Alec heard all this and couldn’t help but feel left out. But this was family stuff, and he probably wouldn’t be excluded for long. Perhaps he should check, though. “Where are you planning to stay permanently here?”
“I haven’t decided, but I do have a thought. Instead of a small apartment, which is all I need, I want to buy a house. I’ve got all this money, and I can buy a house easily. It’ll probably appreciate faster than any other investment. Real estate is more certain.”
“You’re going to buy a house?!” Joel couldn’t believe it. That wasn’t something kids did. Adults did. Older adults.
Alec had a different thought. “What kind of house?”
Tanner grinned at him. “You always seem one step ahead, Alec. What kind do you think?”
“It’s just a guess, but I think a big one, expensive, with a heated pool, a yard and lots of rooms.”
“Now why would I do something like that?” He was still grinning.
“Well, maybe because you want a room for Joel, maybe you’re planning to find a boyfriend and there should be a room for him and another for his stuff, and I might want to stay over occasionally. If I’ve had a falling out with Joel, I’d need my own room. But too, a larger house will appreciate in value more than a smaller one.”
“What!” Joel looked like he needed clarification. He ignored the financial part of what Alec said and went directly to the ‘falling out’ part. He didn’t look happy, didn’t see it as a joke.
“Okay, so no falling out,” Alec said, backing off quickly, recognizing Joel’s insecurity, “but still I want my own room there so I’ll feel part of it and welcome. But a big house mostly because I just don’t see the future ace of the Otter’s staff living in a four-room over-and-under in a questionable neighborhood.”
“Well, yes.” Tanner nodded. “Something of that sort. Housing is still relatively cheap here compared to Anaheim and the area around it. I’ll at least look.”
“But what if you get traded?” Joel asked.
“If it isn’t for a couple of years, I can still sell it for more than I paid for it. But I’m not planning on being traded.”
Cal drove them all to Joel’s mom’s house. Tanner wasn’t there for more than ten minutes, and he came out with an armful of clothes and an empty suitcase.
“I’ll put the clothes into the suitcase in the car. Mom wasn’t there, and I wanted to get out before she showed up.” They drove to the hotel, Tanner putting all the clothes he’d collected into the suitcase on the way.
It took him a half hour to register, check out the room and hang up the clothes he’d brought. The boys went with him and enjoyed teasing him about the clothes, which weren’t the more expensive kind major leaguers wore. Then it was off to Willamette Stadium.
A few of the players were straggling in as they arrived. Jim told Tanner he needed to see Mr. Rafferty first before meeting his teammates. Tanner told Alec and Joel he’d see them after the game if they stayed for it. Otherwise, he’d catch them tomorrow.
He went to Hubbard’s office, where he was given several forms to sign. Hubbard asked him how he was feeling.
“I’m great. I’ve been throwing; no problem with my arm. Whenever Brad wants me to start, I’m ready.”
“How about tonight?”
“Really?” Tanner’s eyes lit up. “You’re not kidding? Sure. I’d love to throw tonight—get any jitters behind me. But why?”
It’s Diaz’s turn, and he’s down with a flu bug. Brad told him to stay home so it doesn’t run through the team. We could have a bullpen game, but as we’ve now got a phenom just sitting idly on the bench waiting to be called, why wait? I spoke to Brad, and he’s calling your number if you’re willing.”
“This is great! I want to pitch. But do you even have a uniform for me?”
“Yep. Got your sizes from the Angels. Stuff’s in the locker room in your locker. I had Jim put you next to Rolf. You’re the same age and both speak English. Easy choice, but you can change to another locker if you don’t get on with him.”
Tanner met Brad in the locker room. He introduced him to the players and asked if he’d like to say anything to the team. He nodded.
“Guys, I’m happy to be here. The Angels, well, those guys weren’t all that friendly. It wasn’t a let’s-all-work-together sort of team. It was an everyone-for-himself team. Everything I’ve heard about you guys is the direct opposite. I’ll do my best to fit in with that. I want to get to know each of you.”
Then Brad announced that Tanner would be starting that night.
Tanner changed at his locker, where he met Jersey. Tanner was a bit nonplussed: Jersey was gorgeous. He had long, flowing blond hair, a tanned face with features that would look good in Young Adult magazine spreads. Tanner knew Jersey was gay and out. But, wow, he hadn’t known he was so handsome. He now realized he’d have to keep tight reins on himself when this guy would be stripping and showering before coming out wet and standing right next to him while drying. Tanner’d already felt tinglings just standing next to him while he was clothed.
Jersey said to him, “I met your brother. Mr. Rafferty had me at his place for dinner, and I met Alec and Joel. I guess you know about them?”
“That they’re boyfriends? Sure. They’re amazing kids and great friends of mine.”
“I agree with ‘amazing’. And they’re so young to have each other. Damn, I wish I’d had that way back when. Still do, matter of fact.”
“I guess it’ll happen for you when it does,” Tanner said. “I have the same problem. Haven’t fallen for anyone yet. Still looking, still lonely, but being back in Portland where I grew up, I think my chances will be better.”
Then it was time to go to work. Only a half hour till the game, and the stands were already starting to fill. The Otters catcher, Mitt Glover, introduced himself and asked Tanner about what pitches he threw, what he felt best with, and if there was anything he should know.
“I’m mostly a fastball, changeup pitcher. The fastball for the most part doesn’t have too much movement, but when the moment calls for it, I can have it move inside late to righthand batters, something like a good slider. But it’ll break late, and there’s no way I can let you know it’s coming. Just remember to expect it in high-pressure situations.”
“Okay. Throw me a couple in the bullpen when you’re warming up so I can see what they look like. Tell me it’s coming. You can’t do that in a game—duh!—but I want to see it before then.”
Tanner and Glover went to the bullpen to warm up while the rest of the team was milling around in the dugout.
They were playing the Angels. The Angels knew about Tanner’s tell. He was planning to use that to his best advantage.
Game time. The umps took their places, and the Otters took the field. Tanner strode to the mound, feeling almost like it was his first major league game. He so wanted to do well, and he couldn’t help feeling he had something to prove to the Angels; they needed to see what they’d lost.
He had a slight advantage as he’d sat in the dugout watching these players’ at-bats. He knew some of their weaknesses, what balls they were likely to swing at that were out of the strike zone, and what areas in the zone to avoid. These guys hadn’t faced him at all and so didn’t have anything to go by except they’d certainly been told to watch his feet to know what they’d be getting.
Their top five hitters were the first five to come to bat. He threw all his pitches with his foot pointing straight at the plate. The first couple of changeups and curves had the batters swing way too early, expecting those pitches to be fastballs. They noticed, and after that seemed to be paying less attention to how he planted his front foot.
Tanner was on his game. His control, always a strong suit for him, was working, and his fastballs, in the upper 90s, were on the edges of the plate with enough movement that they were close to being unhittable. He was pitching inside to hitters who loved the ball out over the plate and nicking the outside corner to those liking inside pitches.
Unfortunately, the pitcher going for the Angels was their ace, and the Otters weren’t doing any better offensively than the Angels.
After the 7th inning, Brad walked over to Tanner sitting on the bench next to Mitt Glover in the dugout. He spoke to Glover. “How’s his stuff?”
“Just as sharp now as in the 1st.”
Brad turned to Tanner. “You’ve done fine. You’ve given up two hits, neither of them hard hit. You’ve got to be tired. Want me to bring in Razinski? Let you enjoy an early shower?”
“No way! I want to beat these guys, and I feel fine. Better than fine.”
“Okay, but if you feel anything in your arm or shoulder, or just get tired, don’t be a hero. We didn’t make the trade we did for you to get hurt your first time out. From what I see, you’re doing great, and we want all the innings we can get from you over a long season.”
The game was still scoreless going into the 8th.
Tanner took the mound, stretched, and quickly got the first two batters, striking them both out. That made 14 for the game.
The next batter was one of the guys Tanner had been glad to turn his back on walking out of the Angels’ clubhouse the last time. His name was Oscar Starret. He was an older player, gruff and loud and dismissive of most younger players. The only times he’d ever acknowledged Tanner’s existence, he’d done so with a sneer and a taunt. He was a better-than-average hitter, batting fifth in their order. He was a left-handed power hitter. He dug in and waited for the first pitch.
Tanner knew he was a dead fastball hitter and crushed them when they leaked over the middle of the plate. Tanner started him with a changeup that he swung at but missed by six inches. The second pitch was another changeup, in close. Strike two.
Glover called for a fastball next. Tanner shook him off. Glover signed for another fastball. Tanner was going to call him out to the mound to discuss it, but figured maybe Glover knew something he didn’t, and threw him the fastball, up and away, but probably a strike. Probably, because the umpire didn’t have to call it. Oscar got all of it. The ball rose majestically in the air, and the right fielder turned and ran toward the fence. Then, just reaching the warning track, he looked up again to find the ball. When he did, he looked directly into the lights.
All he could see was a blindingly white glare. At the last moment he ducked and shielded the top of his head with his glove. The ball dropped a foot behind him.
He heard it land, found it quickly and fired the ball to the cutoff man.
Meanwhile, Oscar was running the bases. Running wasn’t something Oscar excelled at. But as he was nearing second, he saw the right fielder was just reaching over to pick up the ball. He rounded second and headed for third.
It was going to be close. The cutoff man in short right field turned and fired toward third. Jersey had a foot on either side of the bag and crouched, his glove up, waiting for the ball. Starret started his slide.
Tanner, standing behind third base in case of an overthrow, as all pitchers were trained to do, saw the play was going to be close. And then he saw something that terrified him. Oscar brought his spikes up so when he reached the bag, if Jersey was there with the ball, he’d almost certainly get spiked. Oscar’s intention may have been to scare Jersey so he’d pull away and so be unable to make the tag, or it may have been to spike Jersey.
Which is what Jersey did. The relay throw from the cutoff man arrived just as Oscar did. With a safe slide, it would have been anyone’s guess whether he’d have been safe or out. But Jersey had nothing to tag other than sharp, thrashing spikes. He took the smart way out. Better to let the man have the bag than to be out of action for who knew how long while his punctures healed. He stepped away from the spikes and just held the ball.
Starret then stood with one foot on the bag and began ranting at Jersey. “I knew it. You’re a fag, and all you fags are yellow. No cojones; you’re all sissies. We don’t need no faggots here. You cocksuckers—”
That was as far as he got. Tanner had watched and heard and had taken off running. He lowered his shoulder, much like he had when playing linebacker in high school. He hit Starret hard in the chest, and the guy went over and down like a rag doll.
That started a brouhaha which emptied the benches. Both teams charged into the melee, and it took several minutes to end it. While that was occurring, Tanner found himself being grabbed. He looked to see who it was and saw Brad had one hand on his arm, pulling him out of the fray, the other on Jersey’s. He tugged them both into the dugout.
“You two don’t need to get involved in that. Some of those guys love to hit people. You’re both young, to say nothing of highly valuable. I don’t want my two newest stars getting hurt. Stay here.”
So saying, he left them and went back to talk to the umpires, who were finally getting control. When the Otters got back to the dugout, every one of them came and patted Jersey on the back and gave him encouragement. They didn’t overlook Tanner; he got a heap of praise for standing up for his teammate. There was a lot of cursing, all of it directed towards Starret; the word ‘asshole’ was constantly heard, along with worse expletives.
With calm having been restored, the umps got together to discuss what call was the correct one for the play at third, and for the resulting melee. They reviewed a video of what had occurred, then talked for several minutes, and then spoke to both managers. After that, the head ump went to the man on the public-address system and requested the mic.
He announced, “Number 14 of the Angels is out at third for violation of the safe-sliding rule. He is also disqualified from the remainder of this game as his actions were in direct violations of league safe-play edicts. The league will decide what, if any, further discipline will be given.”
“Number 26 of the Sea Otters is not disqualified or charged with inciting a fight. His actions were to prevent the continuation of abusive, discriminatory and prohibited language directed against a teammate.”
The crowd cheered the pronouncement, both vocally and by clapping, and the game continued.
Starret’s out was the third of the inning. In the bottom of the 8th, Jersey led off with a single, stole second, and was driven in with the first run of the game. It turned out to be the only run.
Brad brought in the Otter’s closer to pitch the 9th. Tanner didn’t get an official shutout but did pitch eight scoreless innings of two-hit baseball with 14 strikeouts. He was mobbed by his teammates in the locker room. Enthusiastic feelings were running high for the win and the fight. For the first time in the big leagues, Tanner felt like he was in the middle of things with his team.
Posted 19 April 2025