Behind the Plate (The Boys of Baseball #2) - J. Sterling Page 0,126
meantime, that would give my uncle time to work on negotiating the signing bonus and other details, like an injury clause, when it came time. And I could focus on winning the College World Series.
“It’s time,” someone announced. Maybe it was the guy behind the camera or the one with the notepad—I couldn’t be sure.
My eyes roamed the room and met Mac’s, and he gave me a supportive nod. I nodded back before heading toward the couch.
I sat down between the two most important women in my life. Danika was on my left, and my mom was on my right. I knew that everyone else in the room was rotating between staring at me and the TV, but all I could do was stare straight ahead.
Looking at the television screen, I willed it to say my name while trying to pretend that I wasn’t nervous as hell as the baseball commissioner appeared. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the red light come on the camera, and I knew that they were filming. There had been talk that I was a top ten contender, but no one had ever claimed that I’d go in the number one spot, so I wasn’t expecting it. That had been deemed for some kid from Florida, and just like the experts had said, they were right. His name was called first, and I imagined how excited he must be as his family suddenly appeared on the TV. They were jumping up and down, screaming and yelling, and I couldn’t help but be happy for the guy.
We didn’t have to wait much longer as my imagination turned to reality at the sound of my own name coming out of the TV speakers. Our hotel room erupted. So did the rooms around us, where I knew my teammates were.
“Holy shit,” I said to no one in particular, but Danika was at my side, kissing my face and telling me, “Congratulations,” at the same time as my mom was hugging me, shoving her phone in my face so I could see Gran’s and Gramps’s partial faces.
“Congratulations, Chance!” they both said.
I told them, “Thank you,” even though I was pretty sure they couldn’t hear me.
“I love you. I’m so proud of you,” Danika said into my ear, and I turned to kiss her like no one else was in the room, not even her dad. I’d gotten past thinking that he might murder me at any point just for existing … at least for the most part.
“I love you too,” I said, the grin feeling like it took up my entire face.
No matter what anyone had said to me in the past, this hadn’t been a sure thing until it actually happened. And it was a much different experience from when it had happened in high school. I’d gotten drafted then, too, but it hadn’t felt anywhere close to this. It wasn’t in the first round, and no one was filming my reaction to the news. To be honest, I wasn’t even watching the draft in the first place. I’d heard the news from one of my teammates on my summer ball team, and I’d been totally caught off guard.
This couldn’t have been more opposite.
“Son.” My dad was suddenly standing in front of me, his hand extended. I reached for it, and he pulled me up. “I couldn’t be prouder. I’m so happy for you. You deserve this.”
“Dad”—I felt myself getting emotional—“I’m going to be a fucking Met,” I said as it all started to sink in.
The New York Mets had drafted me. Getting the chance to play on the same team that my old man had made this even more fulfilling. I would have played anywhere, of course, but this made all the dreams I’d had as a little boy who worshipped his father come true.
“Ain’t that something?” Ralph said, and I looked at him before taking his hand and shaking it as well. “Can’t believe I have to root for the Mets again. I’ll never live it down,” he pretended to grumble with a grin.
“Another Carter jersey to hang on your wall,” I said hopefully. I wasn’t in the Major Leagues yet.
“Proudly, son.”
Shit. Ralph had called me son. This day could not get any better.
“I can’t believe you’re going to be on the same team as Dad was.” Jacey threw her arms around me and hugged me tight.