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eleven

Chase

I’m not looking to break any records today, but I need to keep sharp. Even though this week is supposed to be relaxing, that doesn’t mean that my skills will dull, or I will be lazy in any form. I’ve continued to eat right, I’ve gotten enough sleep, and I’ve stayed steady with my training.

It almost feels like I have the training gym to myself today, even though I know that there are dozens of people who work here and keep the place running.

The owner of this gym used to play ball on the West Coast, and when he and his family settled here in Tennessee, he saw a need for a specialized training facility for young athletes and created one.

I received a call one day about the opportunity to invest, and I jumped in without asking questions.

I make it a point to come here at least once a week to train outside of the club and to check things out, make sure the place is running well.

It’s not part of the scope of being an investor, but I like to keep involved in the projects that my name is thrown into.

The facility is around 20,000 square feet.

It’s equipped with over 3,000 square feet of turf for throwing and sprinting, a training floor with state-of-the-art equipment, an indoor pitching mound with data analytics, along with an area for physical therapy, cold plunges, and contrast therapy.

The gym has something that is designed for baseball and softball athletes to help with the development from when you’re first starting out to a seasoned player.

This is my home-away-from-home, my sanctuary. After I’ve spent the last hour on the treadmill, I make my way to the cages to work on cracking the ball.

Overhead, there is natural lighting, and also stadium lights, while I walk onto the warning track in my cleats, digging in with each step, and I am greeted by a few high school students standing around one of the cages.

They don’t notice as I approach and step into my own cage.

I tap the screen to turn it on and to set up my pitches before getting into my stance.

I bend at the waist and touch the plate.

My fingers dig through the infield mix, picking up some and rubbing it along the grip of my bat.

I set my feet apart and bend my knees slightly.

A ball propels out, and I shift my weight from my back foot into my front foot while my body turns into the pitch.

My bat slices through the air, feeling heavy as I swing and miss contacting the ball.

Damnit .

I wait for the next ball, and this time, my bat makes contact, and the ball propels into the netting. I ready myself for the next ball, again, making contact.

I miss no more balls in the next few minutes.

My time is up on the machine. I place the bat between my legs as I rip off my gloves, then turn to exit the cage. I’m greeted by a group of teenagers with their jaws on the floor.

One kid couldn’t be older than sixteen steps forward and holds his hand out.

“I’m Nick. And you’re… you’re…you’re…” he stutters.

“Chase Thorne.” I finish for him, placing my hand in his and gripping his handshake.

“Holy shit. It is you.” One of the other kids says.

“Dude,” another gasps.

“How are you guys?” I ask, releasing Nick’s hand and greeting the rest of the group.

“Dude. You’re Chase Thorne. What are you doing here?”

“I work out here, man. What are you guys doing here?” I ask.

“These are the best batting cages in the entire state. As soon as old man West opened this place, we made sure that we get some time here as much as possible. You know, keep our game fresh.”

“That’s what I like to hear. Play hard.”

I placed my bat on the bench and grabbed my glove.

“You guys want to toss the ball around? I could use a little extra throw time.”

The look on their faces lit up, and I could tell that they were game.

We set up across the turf and moved the ball steadily from glove to glove. The kids weren’t half bad, and I helped guide them when necessary over the next hour.

I finished my time at the gym in the sauna, resting my head against the teak that lined the walls. My body felt relaxed as well as strong. I didn’t push myself too hard today, and hell, I even had some fun with those kids.

Their parents’ inability to afford league fees and equipment led them to create their own fun; conversations revealed they played frequent pickup games with a diverse group of kids.

It was inspiring.

I remember when I was a kid. I would drag Ethan to any field that I could and make him throw the baseball around with me.

He hated it, but we were told to go play outside, so we did.

Neither of my parents paid much attention to what I liked to do outside of the house, or if I was home.

When I expressed that I wanted to play a sport, my parents would promise to sign me up, but then never followed through.

Except, when I was seven, the Hales saw my wanting and signed both Ethan and me up together for one year.

My parents never came to any of my games, always too busy doing something for themselves, trying to ignore one another, or too busy making up after a fight.

As much as I loved the game, Ethan didn’t.

His parents knew that from the start, however, they kept paying for my Little League fees until I aged out and got accepted onto the high school team.

They came to all my games.

The kids that I played with seemed to have good heads on their shoulders. But I didn’t know them from the next person. The only thing that I knew was that I saw a younger me in each of them.

And now I was inspired. I want to do something about that, just as it was done for me.

Skylar sounded fed up with the way her brother loomed over every aspect of her life.

And I knew damn well the way he protects her wouldn’t change.

While I appreciate how he watches over her, I also know she can hold her own.

Perhaps that’s what attracts me to her. Her confidence, her stability, her strength.

Or it could be familiarity. Granted, she’s much different from how she was as a kid.

She’s been on my mind since we got off the phone.

During our childhood, we each stayed in our own lanes.

After all, my connection to the family was with Ethan.

I played with him growing up, not her. Sure, she was almost always around, with her head in a book, or doing her best to avoid us.

However, she was a constant presence in my childhood.

It would be a lie if I didn’t agree that she was family.

Just as much as her brother is. Only now, I see her in a much different light.

I see her as the woman that she’s become and the woman that I want to know more about.

I would be lying to myself if I didn’t admit that I wanted to know her in a much different way as well.

One where my hands are in her hair, my lips are on her skin, and her scent fills my senses. One where she leaves things at my place and mine in hers.

A throat clears, and I look at the polished black shoes of the man that I came to this building to meet with. I look up as I stand, step forward, and shake the man’s hands.

“Sir,” I said, “thank you for your time, given such short notice.”

“It’s an honor. Big fan. But I’m sure you’re not here to talk baseball. How may I help you, Mr. Thorne?” He inquires.

I understand your company accepts donations to fund its programs.

“Yes, sir. We do. Are you here to make one?” he asks, salivating.

“I know this isn’t the norm, but I prefer to determine how my donation should be used, but yes. Can we speak in private, where we can discuss how a partnership could be beneficial to both of us?”

“Absolutely. I would be more than happy to. Let’s go have a seat in my office.”

He leads me through the floor as we walk along a narrow pathway with cubicles on one side and windowed offices on the other. I hear whispers as I pass the cubicles, see heads pop up, and people stick their heads around corners.

Which office is Skylar’s? She’s a manager, so she should have an office, right?

I look around, trying not to be obvious, as if I’m looking for someone, and smile at others as I pass.

Nodding and saying hellos quietly, not to be too much of a disturbance.

Then, just as I’m about to round a corner, Skylar stands in her doorway of the office toward the end of the walkway, talking to someone just out of sight.

She glances as I pass, freezes when she sees me, then steps out of her office with questions apparent on her face.

“Chase?” she calls.

I turn around and wink at her before following her boss around the corner and out of sight.