ONE CUP (Part 9)

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30

Ray Garrett

Sunday morning.

My hotel phone rang at Five-thirty.

“Garrett!”

“Yeah,” I said, looking at the clock next to my bed. “Who’s this?”

“Max Lewis.” The Bobcats bench coach.

Why would he be calling?

“Washington’s wife is in labor. You’re starting at shortstop today. You need to get your ass out to the ballpark ASAP for extra infield practice. I’ll see you in half an hour.”

“Okay,” I said.

“Oh, and if you get there before me and have any trouble with security letting you in, call me on my cell and I’ll talk to them.”

I dutifully jotted down the number and read it back to him and said, “See you in half an hour.”

I tossed the covers off and hustled to the sink to splash water onto my face and quickly brush my teeth. I jumped into my clothes, grabbed my car keys, and rushed out the door.

I was excited, and nervous. After all these years, I was getting my opportunity. I would in a few hours be appearing in my major league debut. But why, God, did it have to be as a shortstop? I’m a catcher. I hadn’t played shortstop since high school. I didn’t want to make a fool of myself. Under the circumstances, I appreciated Max Lewis’ decision to call me in early for extra practice.

It being early Sunday morning, traffic was light, and I arrived a few minutes early. I parked my car and hustled toward the player entrance. A female security officer stepped out of the guard shack. “Good morning, Sir. How can I help you?”

“Hi, I’m Ray Garrett, new guy on the team,” I said, hoping not to have a repeat of my first night with the Bobcats, back in Atlanta. “I’m supposed to come in early for some extra infield practice.”

She eyed me suspiciously, “Uh-Huh,” she said, “You got any ID?”

I showed her my plastic photo ID, which seemed to relieve her suspicion. “You say you want to go in?” she said, looking at her watch. “Now? At five minutes before Six in the morning?”

“Yes, please,” I nodded, threw in a friendly smile for good measure.

“I have to check to see if it’s okay to let people in yet.”

I suddenly remembered what Coach Lewis said. “I have Max Lewis, the bench coach’s phone number. He’s on his way in to meet me here. He said if there was any problem to give him a call. Before she could object, I retrieved my cell from my pants pocket and made the call.

It rang five times before Max Lewis picked up. “Who is it?” he said, gravel in his voice.

“Hey Coach,” I said, “It’s Ray Garrett. I’m calling to let you know I am here, but having a bit of a problem with them letting me in.”

“Who’d you say you are?”

“Ray Garrett,” I said. “I’m here for some extra infield practice.”

Long pause. Sound of crickets. Then, “Garrett! How’d you get my number?”

“You gave it to me, Coach.”

“Whattaya mean, I gave it to you?”

“When you called me this morning at Five-thirty.”

Another long pause. More crickets. “You still there, Coach?” I asked.

“You’ve been pranked, Garrett. And when I find out who did it, I’ll kick his ass,” Lewis said. “Wakin’ me up early on a Sunday morning. Don’t you EVER call me again!”

All I could think to say was, “Does this mean I’m not starting at shortstop today?”

31

Mike Prescott

Once I started seeing Fredericka, the experience took on a life all its own. I never knew when or where she would pop up, just to keep me off balance. It was both exciting and troubling.

I wouldn’t say I enjoy going to church every week, like my wife, Kayla, insists we do. As a professional baseball player, it can be a bit inconvenient, but we manage it by going to the early service. It allows me to make it to the ballpark on time. Many a Sunday, I would have liked to have slept in, but Kayla always insisted we keep up appearances. When the team is on the road, I’m more hit and miss with regard to church attendance. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t mind going to church from time to time. In fact, I rather enjoy a good thought-provoking sermon, and I’ve always brought along a pen and note pad so I could jot down some of the points made by the minister, along with any deep thoughts of my own I cared to add.

Like all good Methodists, we were sitting about halfway back in the sanctuary. I was seated at the end of the pew. I am never comfortable being in the middle of a row, be it in church, at the movies, or on an airplane. As always, we’d been standing up for the past twenty minutes singing the same old boring hymns.

I sensed Fredericka was there even before I saw her. I nonchalantly glanced to my left, just as the late arrival took a seat in our pew, only a few feet away. She wore a conservative outfit consisting of a matching white jacket, knee-length skirt and shoes, and a blue blouse. Her hair was shoulder length, and she wore glasses which added to her overall appeal. I guess you could say she was dressed to turn heads, but not to raise eyebrows. To anyone else in the sanctuary, she was the picture of an attractive single professional whose only intent was to find spiritual nourishment. I alone knew better.

Kayla, if she was aware, pretended not to notice. I was suddenly mindful of my cell phone alerting me of an incoming text. As discretely as I could, I checked it. It said, simply:

$500, Pig!

I deleted the message, then looked at Kayla, who was clearly not pleased. I leaned over and whispered in her ear, “It was from Notso. I can go in late. No BP today. Double header.”  Kayla sighed, rolled her eyes and shook her head slightly.

Eventually, the minister came up to deliver his sermon—but first, the collection plate was passed. As discretely as I could, I removed five one-hundred dollar bills and placed them in the offering plate, then passed the plate to Fredericka.

I made a half-hearted effort to pay attention to the sermon, but I was too distracted, stealing peeks at her dangling a shoe or squirming in her seat. She paid me no attention as she crossed her legs, providing me a view of her well-defined legs.

Eventually, the minister finished his sermon, and was now beginning to pray. I stole another glance across the aisle at the now empty pew.

The congregation stood as one. The minister raised his hands to deliver the benediction. Quoting from the book of Numbers, he said,

“May the LORD bless thee, and keep thee:

“May the LORD make his face shine upon thee, and be gracious unto thee:

“May the LORD lift up his countenance upon thee, and give thee peace.”

The minister, followed by the choir, proceeded from the front of the church down the aisle to the back. One by one, we all exited the sanctuary, pausing for a moment to shake his hand.

“Hit one out for me today, Mike!” he said.
“My first swing today is for you, pastor,” I replied. We both laughed. It was the same every time.

As we approached Kayla’s SUV in the parking lot, Kayla said, “Are you alright, Michael?”

“Yeah, I’m okay,” I said. “Why?”

“You seem anxious.”

“I’m fine. I’m just thinking about the game. We really need this one if we’re going to win the division.” The truth was, although I was not fretting over the game, I was more than a bit nervous. I knew I shouldn’t count on getting off this easy. Maybe she’d just gone home. Maybe she—

“Excuse me!”  a female voice called to us from behind. Kayla and I turned to face the woman as she approached. One thing we liked about this particular church was this sort of thing didn’t happen frequently. “I’m sorry for bothering you, but I just wanted to say hello to you, Kayla,” she began. “And to let you know I particularly enjoyed your feature this week about the homeless in our community. It really touched my heart.”

Kayla smiled and thanked her, asked her name.

“Oh, where are my manners? “I’m Fredericka,” she extended her hand.

Kayla gestured to me and said, “Fredericka, this is my husband, Michael Prescott.”

Fredericka then extended her hand to me. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Prescott,” she said with an innocent smile, and a knowing wink when Kayla wasn’t looking.

I shook her hand. “The pleasure is mine,” I said.

“Well, excuse my interruption,” Fredericka said. “Have a blessed day!”

“And you as well,” Kayla said.

As we got into our SUV to go home for a light brunch before going to the ballpark, Kayla said, “She was nice,” then, glancing over her shoulder at me, she said, “don’t you think?”

This day is just full of surprises, I thought. Kayla normally would have complained all the way home about a stranger approaching her.