chuckles, turning the volume up on the basketball game.
“You got money on this one?” Jimenez nods across the room.
Max, an outfielder, is currently working the controls of a pinball machine. “Yeah, I put ten thousand on it.”
I whistle low under my breath. “Better watch that shit, it can get dangerous.”
“You’re a nun, Swindell.” Jimenez’s expression says I’m too much.
I shrug. “Just a guy who likes my money where I can see it, in my pocket or at the bank.”
Walker claps me on the shoulder. “I knew there was a reason I liked you. I keep telling this moron to stop gambling his entire fucking contract away, but he’s too addicted.”
Max flips him a middle finger over his shoulder. “What’s the point of all the money we make if you can’t have a little fun with it?”
“That’s how guys like us end up working for car dealerships or doing testosterone pill ads when they retire,” Clark mumbles under his breath, and I nod in agreement.
I’ve seen too many idiots like Max end up squandering their entire multi-million-dollar salaries by the time they get out of the league. Gambling, partying, trusting the wrong advisors, too many divorces … you hear the horror stories and then see them play out when a successful pro can’t even buy a condo in Florida after retiring.
“We’re going to have a pong tournament in a little. Want to play?” Walker asks, changing the subject.
“What is this, a frat party?” I laugh, digging into the mashed potatoes smothered in gravy.
“No, but it is another way for competitive assholes to be competitive.” Clark grins.
“Sure, I’ll play. It’s been … hell, I don’t even know how long since I played pong.” Having never gone to college, I didn’t partake in a lot of those games.
“You didn’t go to school, right?” Clark asks, his eyes on the basketball game on the projector in front of us.
“Nope, went right to the minors. I had no use for college and it had no use for me.”
“The best part about college was the girls.” Jimenez looks off into the distance wistfully.
“Can’t you get bat bunnies anytime you want?” Max looks at him like he’s nuts.
“I’m a committed man, now, dude. Carla would have my balls if I cheated. I nearly get punched in the dick anytime one of these stupid broads comes out with a fake story that she sucked my dick.” Jimenez makes a lewd hand gesture.
“Lovely.” I blink at his choice of words.
But this is what it’s like being around a bunch of competitive, successful, testosterone-fueled athletes.
I played with my team in Los Angeles for close to ten years. They drafted me into their farm system, and I moved through the ranks quickly, until I became a starting player on the major league roster. There are still two guys on the team there that I consider brothers. Since California is my home state since I was born there, I also have a few close friends who are my adopted family, aside from Bryant and Ronnie who actually feel like my family.
But I’ve been pleasantly surprised to find myself gelling with the Pistons’ players. My friendships with Walker and Clark have become truly genuine, and I feel a connection to them in the same way I do to Bryant or my California buddies. And I don’t mind the other guys too much, when they’re not being crass or chauvinistic.
Everything about my new circumstances has turned out better than I expected, and it has me wondering what else I’ve been missing out on by focusing all of my energy on baseball.
Accepting this invitation tonight is also a last-ditch effort to get Colleen off my mind. Idly, I wonder what Walker would think about me making a move on his cousin, who also happens to be his best friend.
Off to the side by a bank of old arcade games, Walker is looking down at his phone, shaking his head.
“Something wrong, man?” I ask, walking over.
He glances up. “My agent is texting me. Apparently, my uncle is going to give another interview. That piece of shit. Can’t he just rot away the rest of his days in prison?”
The hairs on my arms stand up straight. “Believe me, if I could guarantee he never got out, I would. Prick put my entire career on the line.”
Walker’s eyes are sympathetic. “If it makes a difference, I’m glad his fuckup brought you to our team. You’re a great addition, and a good friend.”
“Don’t go getting all emotional on me.”