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CREW

Three Months Later

Spring training was usually something I looked forward to—getting back on the field, being with the guys, playing the game I loved. But as I parked my Silverado and shut off the engine, that normal excitement wasn’t there. Instead, I felt like the new kid at school, trying to figure out where to sit at lunch.

The game itself hadn’t changed, but everything around it had. The Rockies had been my team from the start. Their locker room, the coaches, the rhythm of the clubhouse—it had all felt like home. Now, I was walking into something different. Not bad, just unfamiliar. And I wasn’t sure where I fit yet.

The sports complex that was home to the Mariners’ and Padres’ preseason practice was now the home for the Seawolves for the next two months. As I made my way inside the clubhouse, I saw my number seventeen taped to the back of a metal chair that looked brand-new. Everything looked untouched, like it had been unwrapped that morning.

I dropped my bag and scanned the room. A few guys were already there in front of their lockers. I recognized some of their faces from around the league, but I hadn’t played with any of them, and I instantly missed how the start of spring training used to feel almost like a family reunion.

I sat down at my cubby and took my cleats out of my bag.

“Stratton, right?”

I glanced up to see a guy moving toward me. He was lean, with a full beard.

“Yeah.” I stood and offered a hand.

“Walker,” he said, shaking it. “Looks like we’ll be working together when I’m on the mound.”

“Good to meet you.”

He smiled. “I’ve been in the minors for a couple of years now, so I’m looking forward to getting some time on the big-league roster.”

Before I could say anything else, another voice cut in.

“Hey, Stratton.”

I turned to see a big guy with broad shoulders and a buzzcut moving toward me. He looked like a catcher to me. “I’m Ritchson,” he greeted, sticking out his hand. “I’m a pitcher too.”

I blinked. “Damn. For a second I thought you’d be after my job.”

He chuckled. “Nope, but I’ll try not to hurt your hand.”

I laughed. “Yeah, thanks, but I’m sure I can handle you.”

The door opened and Aron Parker walked in followed by Chase Matthewson. I knew exactly who they were. Matthewson retired from the Rockies. Parker had bounced from St. Louis to Denver to San Francisco, making an impact everywhere he went. Both had long careers, built names people didn’t forget, and now they were the ones calling the shots. And somehow, I was lucky enough to be on the roster they were leading. They were also both married to other guys, one of them being Drew Rockland, a former pitcher for the Rockies. Knowing Parker and Rockland had kept their relationship a secret while they played together made me think of Knox.

The thought of him caught me off guard. I’d been doing my best to shove him to the back of my mind, but seeing the way Parker and Chase moved through the room—unfazed and confident in who they were—made me wonder if I could ever do the same.

“Morning, guys,” Parker greeted. “Glad to see everyone’s here. Welcome to spring training.”

A few guys straightened up, while some turned toward them as I took a seat. The room immediately felt smaller as more coaches entered. Parker introduced all of them, including Matthewson the bench coach and Gardner the pitching coach.

“Let’s get to it,” Parker continued. “This isn’t just about getting through the drills. These next two months are about getting comfortable with each other, figuring out where you fit, and showing us you belong. If you’ve come from the minors, I’m sure you’ve heard it before, but the grind doesn’t stop just because you’re here now. Doesn’t matter how you got here. What matters is what you’re doing right now. You gotta earn it every day.”

I caught the way some of the guys looked at him. The way he didn’t talk down to anyone earned him respect. He was giving us the reality of the situation, but not in a way that made it feel impossible. Rather, he was setting expectations without crushing anyone’s confidence. Parker’s style of coaching resonated with me and put me more at ease.

“All right, today’s about getting back to the basics.” Parker’s eyes scanned over the room. “Nothing flashy. Just the stuff that wins games when it matters.

“Stratton.” Parker turned toward me. “You’ve got experience behind the plate. Use it. Your energy matters, so stay locked in.”

I gave a quick nod. What Parker had said wasn’t anything groundbreaking, but it hit anyway. Be steady. Be present. Keep the guy on the mound from coming apart.

Parker looked around the group. “That goes for the rest of you too. Spring training or not, how you work now shows up later. Make it count and get out there.” He turned and headed for the coaches’ office, carrying himself like this wasn’t his first time leading—even if technically it was.

Matthewson followed with a slight smile that said yeah, Parker had it handled.

Spring training had officially begun.