[theski]

Chapter three: The Way life is


Against Tampa bay I had 3 hits in 10 at bats, which made me feel fantastic, but then the first big shock of my career came out just before our run in Cleveland and it almost ruined my nerves forever.

On the morning of the first of may, The papers arrived on my doorstep with questions such as “How far in does the match fixing go?” and “How does it make you feel that your own manager is against you?” I was puzzled by the questions and immediately put it down to the press just angling for a scoop. But when I arrived at the training ground I found that the manager had up and left, and my teammates standing in a huddle unsure of what to say.

I walked over and said “Guys what’s up? The press are all over me.”
Tim patted me on the back and said “I have no idea how to say this to you man.” And Tafoya said, “He is joking! He must know!” in his think Dominican accent. But I didn’t and Tom Jennings, my shortstop rival, explained it all. “It’s like this,” he said “The Manager decided that you were going to be his prime way of earning this year” I cut in but tom stopped me “Not like that. He thought that you were going to fail, being from England and all, so he bet heavily on you hitting below .250 this season. After your first five games he loved you ‘cause you were hitting so badly. Then you hit that streak and he started to pay other teams to pitch dirty at you so that you couldn’t improve your AVG.” I just had to ask, “Do any of you think that I can hit properly then?” and the team replied with a resounding chorus “Yeah course we do!”

It was then I realised that we were a team, even though Tim had only been at bat once, he was a valued member thanks to his positioning skills form the bench, and I was valued for my defence and helping create double plays. This helped me a little but I suddenly had a bout of depression.

As we went in to the series against Cleveland Colts I was low. The papers were hounding me for insights into my views on the manager. He was nowhere to be found and still getting paid, and my head was not where it was supposed to be. That series I hit 1-11 (.091) and I was seriously considering quitting baseball due to my new version of stardom. But my father’s words kept me going “It’s too early in your career, season and life to worry”.

I was in the bar after the last game against Seattle and Julio walked in and dragged me out. He punched me round the face and shouted “What the **** do you think you’re playing at? You are a ******* BALLPLAYER! You should get out there and start to play. Not sing you career in bottles of Buddyweiss beer like so many greats before you.” I was just flabbergasted; I went home and had a cold shower.

When I got downstairs Julio was waiting for me with a mug of coffee. That was one of his best traits I think. Whenever I went into a depressive mood, he was always there with a mug of coffee and some advice. The advice he gave me this time was this story: “back when I was a minor league player, I was victimized for being Hispanic. The press followed me about and reported everything I did as wrong. I was the most hated player in the whole of Arkansas for a while, just because I was not white. But I kept playing and I hit the bigs. I hit a home run in my first appearance; hell it was my ONLY homerun in the bigs; but I carried on. People don’t hate you, they feel sorry for you. So go out there next time and play ball. Don’t drown yourself in beer as if the bottom of the next bottle will give you the strength to carry on.”

I took his advice. The next game against Minnesota Minors I was 2-4 (.500) with 2 runs, one of which was a homer, 2 stolen bases and 2 RBI. I decided that Julio was a genius and that I would never disregard his advice. Unfortunately I did just that later on many times but I still played well that day. In fact that series in Minnesota I went 3-13 (.230) with 2BB but it didn’t matter. I felt great thanks to Julio’s advice.