I’m the kid manager with a family legacy. That’s the way the press described me. My success had to be my family’s influence. They couldn’t come up with any other reason why my skill at plotting baseball strategy and noticing top players before they fully blossomed would add up to executives choosing me to manage.

M grandfather managed in the majors, and my Uncle John was in his fifteenth year as a minor league manager when the Charlotte Yellowjackets hired me to lead their A-level Rock City Ramblers. They were responsible for my quick rise. There was no other possibility since I was only 28-years-old. I still smirk when I think about the narrow-minded bias.

I spent a year managing the Rock City Ramblers, and we finished second in our league. The year before I arrived, the Ramblers avoided last place by only one game. As I looked forward to the second season, I knew that I had solid returning players and a small squadron of quality recruits. I mentally geared up for a run at the league championship. Then I got the surprise call.

The Charlotte Yellowjackets’ front office wanted to talk to me. Meyer Huggins, the team’s general manager, placed the call himself. I blinked my eyes in disbelief when I heard the news. Huggins summoned me to the coaching staff for the big league team. The assistant batting coach abruptly resigned his position at the end of spring training, and I was a unanimous suggestion among the coaches as someone to elevate to the vacant position from within the Yellowjackets’ minor league organization.

I barely had twenty-four hours to pack up and head for Charlotte. I called my parents and my uncle and gave them all permission to spread the good news. The press waited for me en masse at the Charlotte Douglas airport.

One reporter asked, “You’ve made it to the big leagues now. Does this mean you’ll be a manager by age 35?”

I shook my head and said, “I’m a very fortunate man. I’m not going to say anything that might disturb the future.”

My arrival in the big leagues was much quicker than I expected. I’d hoped to stay in Chattanooga for at least three years. I enjoyed getting to know the young players as well as listening to stories from the veterans. A manager can never gather too much knowledge, and, once in a while, a quirky event can lead to new, important realizations about the game.

When I first received the managing assignment with the Ramblers, I was relaxed and confident. I knew it was a job I could do and do well. In fact, I thought coaching was a much better fit for me than playing the game. Genetically, I wasn’t built to be a top-notch athlete. I could look the part, but I knew that I had weaknesses in specific parts of my body’s muscle and bone structure. At the elite level, every detail of the body’s design is essential.

Fortunately, I could match any of my colleagues in knowledge and appreciation of the game. Baseball strategy was in my blood. I was born with it in the crib.

While I took the short flight to Charlotte from Chattanooga, I shut out the rest of the noise on the plan with headphones and listened to Beatles music to calm myself down. I mused about an off-season conversation with Uncle John. My family’s annual Christmas celebration took place at my parents’ sprawling ranch-style house in the country. Everyone thought that Uncle John and I should spend some private time together. I always benefited from hearing about his experience. We traded notes, and we watched old video clips he’d collected through the years.

He said, “I once thought I would follow the path you have outlined for yourself. Your grandpa was a major league manager. He won the World Series once, and he even drew some votes in a few Hall of Fame elections. I thought I might take his legacy one step further.”

I asked, “What happened?”

Uncle John shrugged. “I think it’s the way life works. Someone or something had other plans for me. Before I knew it, I’d met your aunt, and we had two children. Then I felt fortunate I wasn’t moving from job to job in the big leagues. A manager’s tenure can be short there. Then he moves on to another city. Besides, I think some things skip a generation.”

I smiled, “I hope you’re right. I know I’m confident 90% of the time, but once in a while, I wonder if I’ll turn out to be wrong, and I’ll fail. Aspirations can only take me so far without a little bit of luck.”

Uncle John shook his head as he wrapped an arm around my shoulders and pulled me close. “Don’t think like that. Always keep your eyes on the goal. You can’t hit a home run if you don’t keep your eye on the ball. You won’t be a manager if you aren’t always planning to get there.”

While I packed up my clothes to return home, Uncle John said, “I’m not sure I taught you as much as you taught me, Aaron, but I’ve had a great time. I’m confident you’ll break the barrier and rise higher than me. The veterans dominated for some time, but I think baseball is becoming a game for younger guys again. It’s a brand new ballgame.”

After the Christmas trip, I stepped off the plane in southern Tennessee and smiled. I’d only been in Chattanooga for a season, but it already felt like home. I rented an apartment near downtown, The mountains around the city were beautiful. I enjoyed the sometimes stifling heat in the summertime. My family lived in Michigan, and returning home to Chattanooga felt like a winter retreat after watching the snow fall during my family’s holiday festivities.

Of course, managing the Rock City Ramblers would always hold a special place in my heart for another reason. Whether or not we ever met again, I couldn’t forget celebrating Chase O’Rourke’s trip to the majors. It was a spontaneous event, and it was the best sex I’d had in years.

I thought about Chase often, and I’d kept in touch with a few text messages in December. He was a bright rising star on the baseball horizon. I thought I had a chance to see him again when I made it to the big leagues, but I expected that moment was still years away. I planned to spend a few more years in Chattanooga reliving the pleasures in my mind and touching my body on dark nights thinking about him when the best memories returned.

Then I got that call. I was on my way to coaching Chase’s team. I was destined to see him for 162 games in the course of a six-month season. While boarding the plane for Charlotte, I thought about Chase in his Ramblers uniform. I thought about his fetish for the uniform itself and smiled.

I hoped that he’d found a boyfriend, or, if not that, at least opportunities to release erotic tension. I didn’t want to arrive in town and instantly generate a distracting atmosphere of shared sexual attraction.

Despite the differences between sports and the world of corporate offices, the Charlotte Yellowjackets was still a large company. I was entering the management structure, and Chase was an employee. Considering a relationship between us would open up a can of worms that we might be unable to close again. In my mind, I saw the scandalous headlines splashed across the evening news and the cover stories in Sports Illustrated.

If I wanted a romantic relationship, I needed to look outside the sports world. Eligible men who didn’t wear jerseys and carry a large, padded glove were around every corner. I needed to keep my eyes open.

After the press mauled me when I got off the plane in Charlotte, my new supervisor Ben Eckert, the Yellowjackets’ head batting coach, stepped in and parted the crowd. He said, “That’s enough for now. Let the man settle in. He’ll be available soon enough to answer the rest of your questions.”

I heard well-meaning words of welcome as the crowd dissipated. Turning to Ben, I said, “Hey, thank you, and it’s great to meet. I hope you don’t mind if it takes a few days for me to settle back in. I need to familiarize myself with not being the one in charge again.”

Ben shrugged. He said, “That’s the way it goes when you’re climbing the ladder. You’re really young. One day you’ll be back in charge. You can count on that.”

“And tomorrow is opening day?”

“Yep, it is. I told the reporters to give you the rest of the day off, so you can settle in at the hotel. Tomorrow, I’ll introduce you to the players at batting practice. I’m sorry about the media. I can only keep them at bay for so long. You’re a novelty for now. They’ve never seen a big league coach who looks like he’s fresh out of college.”

I swept my fingers through my dark brown hair. I thought the press attention was minor compared to what was likely to happen when I met my goal of managing before 40. “At least it draws some more attention to the Yellowjackets. Maybe it will light a fire under the team. It can be a spotlight that helps kick off a great season.”

Ben sighed. “We can hope. The last two years have been rough around here. Shepherding an expansion franchise is a thankless task in the game. The first hordes of fans come to the stadium with huge hopes for a World Series berth. Then they see their dreams dashed by July, and they stay home. It’s a rough road.”