Two days later, the radio station invited me to serve as a guest announcer for a second game. I told Jerry, “Of course I’ll do it. I loved the last game.”

When we made the arrangements, neither of us knew the day would turn into a media circus. By the time the game rolled around, the Yellowjackets locker room was teeming with members of the press, and national sports reporters were flocking to Charlotte. Jerry said, “We’re getting call after call asking why Huggins and Eckert both resigned. They have released nearly identical statements saying they need to spend more time with their families, but the timing is suspicious. Do you know anything more about this, Chase?”

I’d heard from Aaron about the real reason, and I was still trying to make sense of the entire situation. It was difficult to believe, but he said he had it all on tape. The catcher who hit my shoulder announced he would retire at the end of the current season, about five years earlier than anyone expected. I asked, “Can we drop the controversy for the length of the game and pretend like everything is normal until afterward?”

Jerry nodded. “That’s been my approach so far. I suggest to the callers that they listen to the open call-in after the game, and we’ll discuss it all then.” He asked me directly, “Do you know something about it?”

“I’m staying quiet about it for now. I want to focus on the game.”

By the time the game was half over, it was apparent that I had a lot of questions to answer. Some of them I didn’t want to address. A few callers questioned whether there was any connection to me coming out as gay. I grumbled to Jerry that the suggestion was absurd, and he agreed with me, but that didn’t stop the rumor machine.

Then another unexpected bomb dropped, and the resignation of Huggins and Eckert became old news. Jerry sent me to the media room after the game to see if I could figure out the atmosphere closer to the team itself. He requested that I not answer any questions directed at me and tell everyone that I was there to report and not be the subject of reports.

I laughed at Jerry’s suggestion and said, “Wish me luck, but you know I’m itching to go down there and talk to people.”

Mo pitched another save. He broke a tie for the lead in saves among all the relief pitchers in the league. He was sitting at the table to the right of the Yellowjackets’ field manager when I arrived. A ripple of sound swept through the gathered media spilling out the door of the room when they spotted me.

To quiet the crowd, Mo tapped on the microphone. He said, “I want to thank my manager for bringing me down here. I wasn’t aware of the saves lead until after the game, so I’m still smiling about it. However, I also want to use this occasion to share some other significant news.”

At that moment, Mo looked out over the crowd and stared directly at me. I watched him nod, and I smiled. I didn’t know what he had planned, but Mo was one of the Yellowjackets players I trusted implicitly.

Mo said, “I should have done this long ago, but hindsight is 20/20. I want to thank my buddy Chase O’Rourke over there in the corner for helping make it much easier to say what I have to say in public.”

A hush swept through the gathered reporters. The room was silent. Someone literally could have heard a pin drop. I watched Mo beam as he began to speak again.

“I wanted to let you all know that I’m a proud gay man, and I’ve been dating the best man in the world for more than six months now. I have nothing more to hide. Do with this news what you will.”

My jaw dropped. So the romantic trouble he asked about was a man, not a woman. I wasn’t as surprised by the fact that Mo was gay as I was by the timing of his announcement. He nodded at me again, and that time many of the gathered reporters noticed. Those close to me turned in my direction and immediately began to ask what I knew about Mo.

The timing of the announcement was exquisite. No one wanted to know about Huggins, Eckert, or me coming out anymore. They were focused on the veteran pitcher Mo Sadler.

I hung around watching the circus atmosphere, and I contacted Jerry. He was still on the radio, but he had two other sports colleagues helping field calls. He asked, “Did you know about this in advance?”

I said, “I’m telling you honestly that I had no idea. I have a suggestion, though.”

“What?” asked Jerry. “This has to be one of the craziest nights I’ve seen since the Yellowjackets first started playing in Charlotte.”

“How about an exclusive interview with Mo and me?”

I heard the excitement in Jerry’s voice. “Could you arrange that?”

“I have no doubt that I can. Let me hang out down here for another hour or so, and I’ll put it together. I owe you one.”

Jerry said, “I think we might need to put you on staff. I’m sincere when I say thank you from the bottom of my heart, Chase.”

I felt an incredibly warm sensation inside before I turned back to the crowd of reporters and photographers. I heard Mo say, “The timing was never right before, but I believe that I owed it to other LGBT folk to come out before retirement.”

As I watched Mo, another sensation, one of tremendous pride, rose in my chest. He could have retired without the circus atmosphere. Mo was the first to admit that his arm only had a year or two left before he would need to seriously consider retirement. Instead, he chose to see a greater good, and it made me tremendously proud to call him a friend.

45 minutes later, the team managed to successfully usher the media out of the room. I asked the field manager if I could speak to Mo briefly before leaving. He said, “I wasn’t going to ask you to leave. I don’t see you as a reporter. You’re still one of us. The disabled list doesn’t mean you’re off the team.”

I grinned. I hadn’t told anyone on the coaching staff about my plan to end my career as an active player. Mo stood up from behind the press table and joined me. We shared a massive hug, and I whispered, “Careful of the shoulder. I’m so proud of you big Mo!”

After he released me, Mo shrugged his broad shoulders and said, “All things considered, it was a lot easier than I expected.”

I crooked a finger at him inviting him to lower his head so that I could whisper in confidence. I asked, “Did you time it to take the pressure off the news about Huggins and Eckert?”

He chuckled. “It worked, didn’t it? The rumors about those resignations were not helping the team. I thought I could move things back in the direction of positive news. For once in my life, I was able to bend the path of news coverage to my will.

I said, “Maybe you should run for office. You handled them masterfully.”

He said, “I don’t know about that.”

I held out my hand saying, “I’ll give this back.” I pointed a finger at my shoulder as the rabbit’s foot rested in the open palm of my opposite hand. I said, “I think maybe this only works for you.”