Page 34

He’s young, just twenty-five, and looks it, not a line on his face, his eyes bright and a blinding smile spread across his face.

He’s a big kid, nearly my height, but slender, with a wiry flexibility that’s perfect for a young pitcher, athletic without being wound so tightly he’s constantly in danger of pulling something.

His suit is new and clearly high quality.

I’ve been in the game long enough to know custom tailoring when I see it.

He’s done well in the Japanese league and he’s about to do even better here.

“Avery- sama ,” he says, his bow deep, nearly from the waist, and he holds it for a second and then another before holding his hand out.

“Kai, it’s great to meet you, kid,” I say, returning his bow with one of my own, then shaking his hand firmly. I can’t help but smile when the kids’ face lights up even more.

He opens his mouth and starts, “It’s . . .” but then he hesitates and looks toward Nelson, who steps forward. He speaks in rapid Japanese for a few moments, looking at me and not at his interpreter the entire time.

Nelson nods along and then says in monotone, “It’s such a pleasure to meet you, Mr Avery. I have been a very big fan of yours since I was a little boy and I’m looking forward to talking to you today.”

I grin. I’m not above having my ego stroked by a kid who watched me play growing up and I’ll be happy to use that to our advantage during this process.

“I really appreciate that, Kai. You can just call me Charlie. I’m excited to get to know you better and hopefully make you a part of what we’re trying to do in Brooklyn for the next decade or so.”

Nelson translates rapidly, but abruptly, and I wonder how much is actually being communicated. Though, from the way that Kai’s attention is still on me, either he’s very good at listening with one ear or he doesn’t actually need the interpreter.

My money’s on the latter.

“Gentlemen, if you’ll follow me,” Frankie says, gesturing back toward the house. “We can get started.”

Gregory has my living room looking better than it ever has, pillows fluffed, trays of snacks and beverages lined up on a serving table that I don’t recognize, fresh flowers cut and placed sporadically around the room and my furniture rearranged, not to face the television, but two chairs and my couch in a conversational formation with my coffee table in between.

There are notepads and pens for everyone, monogrammed with the Eagles logos.

“We were thrilled to see your offer was as competitive as it was,” Dan says, sitting down in one of the chairs and crossing his legs to start the meeting off.

Nelson is translating quietly as he sits beside Kai on the couch. Frankie sits on another chair and I move off to the side with Javy, ready to be called in when needed.

“So, shall we get started?” Dan says.

“Actually, we’ve decided to go in a slightly different direction for this pitch, if you’ll indulge us.”

That gets Kai’s attention clearly before Nelson even starts translating.

Good.

I don’t trust that translator guy as far as I can throw him, especially if Dan Wilson hired him away from the Dodgers.

If he’s going to be Kai’s personal interpreter, he’ll have no interest in leaving LA any time soon and, with only a few voices in the kid’s ear, I want to make sure that what we say is actually being understood.

“Go on.” Dan prompts Frankie to continue.

“We know what we’re up against here. We know that the teams who are vying for your services may have deeper pockets and more storied histories, so our pitch is, perhaps, a little bit different than what you’ll be hearing from other organizations.

We know what you bring to the table, Kai.

I know what you’re capable of and I know what you’re worth.

I saw it for myself in Tokyo less than a month ago.

You are exactly what we need to bring a championship back to Brooklyn, along with a few other players we think you’ll be excited to have with you over the course of your career. ”

“I’m sorry, where exactly is this going?” Dan cuts in, even though Kai has leaned forward in his seat, clearly intrigued as Nelson rapidly interprets Frankie’s words.

“Arizona. We have a car waiting to take us to the airport, where we’ll be flying to see this afternoon’s Desert Dogs game.”

“The Fall league?” Dan says, but his voice is drowned out by his client.

“Arizona?” Kai asks. “To see a game? The Desert Dogs?”

“Yes, but mostly for you to meet three young men who have the exactly the same dream as you do, who will be making their major league debuts with you and who will be the centerpieces of the dynasty we plan to build in Brooklyn.”

“Yes,” Kai says, cutting off Nelson as he continues to interpret what Frankie just said. “Yes. We’ll go to Arizona.”

A private jet doesn’t impress the kid. I didn’t expect it to, but as we’re given our seats, I make sure to slide into one facing him with Frankie at my side while the flight attendant comes around to pour us glasses of champagne.

“No, thank you,” he says to the woman, “water, please.”

“Same,” I say, and then look to Frankie.

“Seltzer and lime,” she says.

“What is it like?” Kai asks me, leaning forward in his seat as his agent and interpreter make themselves comfortable in the row across from us.

“What’s what like?”

“The Major Leagues. The big leagues. The show.”

“You think you’re ready for it when you get there.

You’ve played baseball your entire life, so how could it be any different than every game before it?

But it is. It’s so different. There’s no bigger jump than the one you make into the big leagues.

The best pitchers. The best hitters. It’s grueling and terrifying at first. Everyone’s bigger and stronger and knows more, but then it hits you one day, that you belong.

And it’s like nothing you’ve ever felt before.

The crowd. The stakes. Your teammates. It’s everything you ever dreamed of and everything you ever dreaded all wrapped into one glorious season, and one day you’ll look back and you’ll miss it like hell, so you’ll find yourself talking to a rookie who hasn’t made it yet like you’re an old man reliving his glory days.

I can’t wait for you to see for yourself, kid. You’re gonna love it.”

The flight is short. A little under an hour and a half and the drive to Glendale isn’t bad either, but my phone is already lighting up with texts, mostly old friends from the game asking if there’s any truth to the rumor that we got Kai on a plane to Arizona.

The baseball world is very, very small sometimes and its fans are rabid. There’s always someone watching and our secret isn’t a secret for very long.

I imagine, by the time the game gets underway, the ballpark will be packed with fans hoping to get a glimpse of the sport’s next big thing, but when we pull up, it’s still relatively quiet.

The Desert Dogs are taking batting practice and there’s a security guard waiting to escort us from the player’s entrance through the inner workings of the ballpark, hallways I once knew like the back of my hand, and then onto the field where the bright sunshine, blue skies and the perfect scent of grass, dirt, the wood of the bats and leather of the gloves envelops us.

Cole Davis is already out on the field waiting. I imagine he’s usually the first one out on the field, and his reaction is instant, making a beeline for us and, before anyone can perform introductions, he’s already talking.

“I’ve studied the film from the Japan Series,” the young catcher says, without preamble and definitely without worrying about the interpreter.

I had him do his homework. I wonder if he figured out what I did, that Kai Nakamura understands and speaks perfect English.

“You worked your changeup in a lot more than you usually did during the regular season. Was that a deliberate choice to throw off their scouting report or was it just working that day so you went with it?”

To his credit, Kai just goes it with: “I . . . I only use the changeup when all my other pitches are working.”

“Yeah? Why’s that?”

“Because it is a new pitch and I am building confidence with it.”

“A new pitch? When did you start throwing it?”

“Early this season. I knew I would need it for the major leagues and thought it would be important to have it developed fully before I arrived here.”

“Well, it’s definitely ready to be mixed in more . . . Wait, Xander and Archie are here. Guys, what took you so long? We’ve been waiting.”

The other boys emerge up from the tunnel, jogging toward us in their Brooklyn uniforms, metal cleats clacking against the cement steps of the dugout in unison.

“Sorry, my fault,” Archie says. “I almost put diesel in the gas tank and then I thought I did put diesel in and we had to call an Uber so the mechanic could make sure I didn’t. It’s nice to meet you. Your stuff is wicked.”

“Wicked?” Kai asks, and turns to Xander and freezes, mouth dropping open, eyes lighting up like he did when he first saw me coming out of the house to greet him.

“Great, he means great,” Xander says, holding out his hand. “I’m Xander Greene. This is Archie Esposito.”

“Archie,” Kai says, nodding toward the other young man, but reaching for Xander’s and shaking it slowly, “and Xander. It’s . . . it’s nice to meet you?”

Neither one of them pulls away. Xander is staring at their joined hands. Kai is simply standing still while their handshake stops and they blink at each other silently.

Huh . . . what . . . oh.

Oh.

My eyes fly to meet Frankie’s and it’s clear she put the puzzle pieces together as well.

Sparks. I recognize them easily enough and this is . . . well, it’s interesting. There’s a reason, I guess, that there were no mentions of a girlfriend back in Japan, no mentions of anyone in his life.

And maybe this is why.

I can’t blame the kid for keeping it a secret, neither one of them. Baseball isn’t exactly the most inclusive of professional sports, but it doesn’t make a difference to me who they go to bed with at night, as long as they’re bringing it on the field.

And this? This might work to our advantage.

The boys finally let their hands drop and they all fall into a conversation together, Cole and Archie joining in easily as they talk about where they want to live for Spring Training and getting to Florida early in order to maximize their prep time before the rest of the squad arrives.

Frankie moves to my side as we watch it unfold and whispers, “What do you think?”

“I think Xander Greene is going to be one hell of a centerfielder and Kai Nakamura one hell of a starting pitcher in this league, and if they can do those things on the same team while they figure out whatever the hell we just saw was, more power to them.”

“You don’t think it’ll be a distraction?”

“Not in my clubhouse.”

“There’s never been a publicly out Major Leaguer, let alone one that’s going to get the amount of attention Kai is about to get.”

“He’s not out. Not to us, at least, and unless he is, then our response is no comment. If he decides he wants to make an announcement, we’ll support him. What did Ted Lasso say? It matters to us because he matters to us.”

“The writing of that episode was super clunky. But, yeah, that was the gist.”

“You won’t disrespect Ted Lasso to me.”

“Oh, don’t tell me you’re one of those people who were glad that Ted and Rebecca didn’t get together.”

“I thought it was refreshing to see a platonic relationship on TV .”

“We don’t have time for this right now, but at some point we are watching that show together and I’m going to make sure you understand just how wrong you are.”

“I’ll bake shortbread.”

“You can bake?”

“I can do a lot of things, Sullivan. Now, c’mon, can’t let these boys do all the heaving lifting for us.”

She grins and steps away to join the conversation, but before I can follow her, Dan Wilson is next to me.

“This is one hell of a stunt the girl pulled.”

“You mean the woman in charge of a billion-dollar company about to offer your player hundreds of millions of dollars? She doesn’t pull stunts,” I insist, trying to keep my cool, “She does what she thinks will work.”

“It won’t. Her bid is going to be tens of millions behind the leaders.”

“Then why did you even show up today?”

“Price goes up when more teams are involved.”

“Really? Or did your client insist?”

I’ve been around enough fans in my time to know it. Kai Nakamura is a fan. He wanted to meet me. Maybe our initial bid wasn’t close. Doesn’t mean it won’t be the one he takes.

The agent’s silence is enough to confirm it.

“He’s a hell of a kid, Dan. He’s gonna be great. Don’t get in his way. Let him make the call.”

“It’s my job to look out for his best interest.”

“Well, let’s just see how this plays out,” I say, looking over to where the boys and our top free agent target have their heads bent together while Archie shows Kai his knuckleball grip.

“Yeah,” he says, “we will.”

“And don’t underestimate Frankie and what she’s trying to do here.”

“Don’t worry,” he says, his mouth lifting into a superior smirk. “I won’t.”

And as he turns to go, stadium employees dodging around him as he doesn’t break his confident stride, I try to ignore the fact that it sounds an awful lot like a threat.