Page 40

Jamil

We landed in Washington DC a few hours before we were due to be at the stadium.

Media was already waiting for us as we made our way to the locker room.

My first instinct was to walk right past them like I’d done most of the season to avoid giving them a story I didn’t want them to have.

But no matter what, articles speculating about the women I signed autographs for or what gym I frequented in the off-season still showed up in the tabloids every day.

Maybe Harper was right and if I gave them something they’d stop wanting everything .

“Jamil!” One of the regular sports bloggers I recognized was desperately trying to wave me down. Most athletes didn’t give him the time of day because he wasn’t associated with a big network, even though his following was loyal due to his commitment to delivering unique stories.

“Billy, right?” I asked when I came to a stop in front of him.

Billy’s eyebrows shot up when he realized I was talking to him. Tommy stopped a few feet away to talk to someone from a local news station about this series and how we were looking like we could be going deep into the post-season once again.

“Billy Kirk.” Billy stuck his hand out for me to shake. “It’s a pleasure to get to talk to you, Jamil. You are quite the difficult man to try to get an interview with.”

My stomach clenched and I fought to keep a red flush of embarrassment from spreading across my cheeks.

I fell in love with baseball as a young kid after going to a game with my older brother and my father, just like so many others before me.

Everyone that worked around the sport had their own moment they fell in love with the game of baseball.

The only thing that made me any different than anybody else was that I was now the one they were coming to watch.

We all fell in love with the impossibility of someone hitting a pitch going so fast that the chances were every one-in-four attempt on average.

Yet every game, the impossibility became possible.

We all fell in love with the greats who played with their hearts on their sleeves and rejoiced with those in the stands who loved the game as much as them.

Not only had I been doing a disservice to the game by being closed off, but I’d also made it nearly impossible for the little kids in the stands who wanted to be in my shoes when they were older to view me as a role model.

That wasn’t the kind of player or person I wanted to be known as.

“What would you like to know, Billy?” I asked and watched the man grow flustered as he realized that I was giving him the opportunity to ask whatever came to mind.

Once he collected himself, he turned on a voice recorder and poised his pen over his notepad, ready to write down what I shared with him.

“After last year, it feels like there’s not much else you can do to write your name in the record books of the history of baseball.

What kinds of goals do you have for this season? ”

Instead of forcing myself to give textbook media responses with very little substance, I cleared my throat and told Billy the truth.

“If you’d asked me that during spring training, I would have told you that I wanted to go back-to-back and give the city of Chicago another World Series like the Bobcats won back-to-back Super Bowls.”

“But that’s changed?” Billy asked, his pen hovering over his notepad.

“If that happens this season, that would be amazing. But it’s not my focus. I’ve had a lot of noise going on outside of the game and I haven’t done the best job at managing it all.”

It wasn’t a secret that I’d gone from just a professional baseball player to being on nearly every advertisement when you turned on the television or having my face on cereal boxes.

“Do you feel that’s taken some of your focus away from the game?” Billy flipped to his notes, which I saw were filled with my stats from the previous games. “Besides the game that you did not appear for, I would argue that your performance this season has been arguably better than last season’s.”

“Baseball has always been my favorite outlet throughout my entire life. No matter what is going on, baseball has always been the best way for me to work through everything.” I ignored every instinct in my body screaming at me to stop talking, to stop drawing so much attention to the fact that I was struggling.

If people wanted to know why, they’d start to dig and if they dug hard enough . .?.

“If your performance has been so spectacular, then why do you feel so unsatisfied?” Billy had been around the game for decades.

He’d watched players, some great and some not, come and go.

He’d covered stories on some of the best games in baseball history and his eagerness to do right by the game was evident.

“I think that’s because I feel so disconnected from the fanbase and the city of Chicago, but it’s of my own doing. I want to give the city as much kindness as they’ve given me.”

“You have a record of donating to various charities for the city. For instance, you raised nearly a quarter of a million dollars for the Boys & Girls Club of Chicago, which your teammate Tommy Mikals is deeply involved with.”

“I have really enjoyed involving myself with my friends’ and teammates’ organizations. But I don’t feel as though I’ve done enough myself to showcase my appreciation for this city and I hope to remedy that.”

Billy gave me a grateful look before he checked his notes again.

“Jamil, I know that you are tuned in to Chicago sports. What are your thoughts on Nate Rousch being traded to Texas after all the rumors coming out of that clubhouse?”

I didn’t know Nate Rousch personally, but there wasn’t an athlete or soul on the planet who hadn’t heard about the mess that the Chicago Lynx locker room had devolved into at the beginning of the NHL season.

“I don’t know Nate personally. I wish him the best in his new adventure down in Texas. I think a fresh start would be good for him and I wish the best for the Chicago Lynx going into post-season.”

“Thanks, Jamil.” Billy backed away, letting me continue toward the locker room. Tommy was nowhere to be found, having already wrapped up his conversations with the media.

My shoulders felt lighter as I pushed into the locker room to get ready for the game. The media had always felt like such a burden, but maybe Harper was on to something. If I approached them and gave them what I wanted to, maybe they weren’t as bad as I originally thought.

It was time that I took control of my life again.

*

“Nico,” I greeted my agent as soon as he picked up my call.

“Jamil! You should be getting ready for a game here shortly, right?”

“This shouldn’t take long,” I told him. “I wanted to talk about further business deals and before I tell you what I want to do, I want to make sure you understand that I’ve thought about this thoroughly and I’m sure.”

“Okay,” Nico replied hesitantly. Rightfully so since I was about to take his cash cow away.

“I want to start my own charity organization for those recovering from addiction. Is that something you can help me with?”

There was a pause on the other end of the line. I was certain Nico was trying to figure out where this was coming from. Where the connections were. “I can. I’ll work on that for you today.”

“Great. Also, moving forward, I only want to work for companies that are making an effort at change. Companies with a mission to make something better. After my current contracts run out, we can evaluate if I want to move forward with who I’m currently working with.

I’m no longer going to take every deal that comes my way.

I want to connect with the people that understand why I love this game so much. I want to give back to them.”

After my long-winded speech, I was preparing for Nico to try and talk me out of my plan. To tell me that I’d be losing out on money, but I didn’t care about the money. I didn’t care about the fame or the attention.

“Okay, J.” Nico must have heard the determined edge in my voice because he didn’t fight it. By the time I hung up the phone, that always-present pressure on my chest had lessened and was almost gone entirely.

*

“Do you want to grab dinner?” Tommy asked me as we walked toward the busses that would bring us back to the hotel. Olivia and Maggie had already boarded and hadn’t bothered to wait for us as we showered.

Tonight’s game was a blowout, with the Capitols being last in our league and struggling to string together a series win all season.

“Maybe,” I started to tell him before I caught sight of Harper standing in the parking lot, her phone pressed to her ear. “Hold on, let me see if Harper would want to come.”

“The two of you are okay?” Tommy asked me, not bothering to hide his excitement.

“We’re still working through some things, but we’re okay.” Tommy fist-pumped excitedly at the news as I walked toward Harper. “Hey!”

She turned around and pointed toward her phone to let me know she was speaking with someone. “I can meet the two of you there. You’re already there? Why didn’t you ask me sooner? No. Fine. Fine!”

I cocked an eyebrow at her as she angrily punched the button to end the call on her phone screen.

“Are you okay?” I asked her.

“No. My parents are at dinner, and they saw the game on the television, so they started calling me during the third inning and wouldn’t stop until I picked up the phone just now. They want me to come meet them.”

“Do you want company?”

Harper laughed, the sound coming out more like a choked sob. “You’ve already been subjected to one meal with Maria Nelson. There’s no need for you to sit through another one.”

“But I haven’t met your father yet.”

This time Harper rolled her eyes at me. I’d sit through the worst dinner I’ve ever had a million times over if it meant being the only person in the room that could make her smile like that.

“I couldn’t ask you to do that.” Harper shook her head, still trying to fight me even though both of us knew her efforts were useless.

“Let me call a car to come pick us up.”

“You’re going to regret this,” Harper warned as I ordered us a taxi.

“There is nothing on this planet that could make me regret spending time with you, Moon.”

She let out a long sigh before she closed her hand around mine. “Thank you.”

“Anytime,” I told her as I reached over to smooth a stray hair that had escaped from behind her ear.

“We’ll see if you are still saying that by the end of the night.”