The new coaching assignment wasn’t going to be simple and figuring out my relationship with Chase would be even more complicated. During batting practice, I encouraged Chase and Eric, one of his teammates, to keep their focus on the game. They looked at me in unison with frowns on their faces. I said, “I know you’ll do that. I’m trying to settle in.” My admonishment was successful for the moment. It quieted their laughing and joking as they both jogged off to the outfield to continue their warmups for opening day.

Chase played right field, and Eric played center. I did my best to be discreet when I checked Eric out. They were very friendly with each other. I tried to imagine the two of them in bed, and something about the picture didn’t work. I couldn’t see Eric’s lips kissing another man’s, but he seemed to love Chase’s company. I hoped it was a romantic relationship, but my guess was their connection was only platonic. If it was romantic, I knew that it would make my job easier.

Ben left batting practice in my hands, and after another forty-five minutes, I closed it down. I scanned the field watching the rest of the Yellowjackets. Eric was hanging out in the bullpen chatting with pitchers, but Chase wasn’t with him. Finally, I spotted Chase slowly jogging along the perimeter of the outfield. He hung his head forward as if he was deep in thought. I wasn’t surprised. I guessed that opening day was a huge day for anyone who made it to the majors. I didn’t know from firsthand experience as a player. I was nervous enough as a coach.

The rest of the coaching staff was distracted. Fighting a gut feeling that I was messing with essential aspects of team morale just before our first game, I jogged out in Chase’s direction. As I drew closer, I watched his smooth, slow strides, and I imagined him sliding into a base. He had tremendous natural baseball talent, and he looked great putting it into practice.

Chase was diligent about working out in the gym, and that meant he had upper body strength that helped him power balls over the fence for home runs while still maintaining the speed to chase down fly balls in the outfield. If someone asked me to describe the appearance of the ideal baseball player, he would look a lot like Chase O’Rourke.

As I approached, I saw that Chase had his sandy brown hair buzzed short. It was short enough that it only cast a light shadow at the nape of his neck. I tried to stop myself from thinking about kissing the back of his neck. He was so intent on staring at the ground that he didn’t notice me until I was only about three strides away.

I moved up from behind to try to jog in step, but Chase stopped abruptly. He turned in my direction and asked, “Are you trying to sneak up on me? What gives?”

I laughed softly. “I just wanted to catch up with you before the game. I don’t think we’ve been in touch since before Christmas. Is everything going well?”

Chase threw his arms in the air and grinned. The smile was insincere. He said, “It’s opening day of my first full rookie season! How could things not be going well?” Chase pulled his arms down and leaned in toward me. “How’s your day?” He paused for effect and added, “Coach!”

Chase spoke the words with a dramatic emphasis that was all show. The message didn’t come from the calm, relaxed temperament I knew back in Chattanooga. Chase was on edge. I expected it. I said, “It’s going to take some settling in. I planned to rise to a major league coaching staff, but I didn’t expect it to be in Charlotte and any earlier than three years from now. I thought they would keep me in the minors until I found another team that wanted me on their big league staff.”

Chase leaned back on his rear leg and turned his head slightly sideways giving me a long glance. “And so here you are. I really didn’t expect to see you much anymore. I thought I might see you occasionally when I stared across the field at the opposing team’s dugout.”

I said, “I’m happy we’re here together.” I was worried, too, but I didn’t add that nugget of information.

Chase’s hard expression began to melt into a half-smile. “Really? Are you happy to see me? Maybe we could have a drink…”

I cut the words off and said, “But we can’t do that. I think we need to lay some ground rules right now. It’s important for both of us.”

His expression hardened again as he asked, “Ground rules? Aren’t we both adults? I don’t have any ground rules for any of my other coaches or teammates.”

“Not even for Eric?”

Chase instantly understood the subtext underlining the question. He held a hand up to his mouth and laughed. “Eric? Straight arrow Eric? Uh, no, we don’t have ground rules. Our only rule is to make sure someone calls for the ball when it heads into that no man’s land between us in the outfield.”

“Chase, we can’t act like what happened between us doesn’t matter. It does matter, and it’s in our best interest that we figure out what to do about it right now. The GM wants me to help win games, and that’s what I intend to do.”

Chase reached up and rubbed his chin. “Now let me understand this, Coach. It’s your first day here. It took you longer to get here than it took me, and you are going to tell me how to think about what happened when we fucked in a motel room last fall?”

His raw language startled me. I shook my head and recoiled from the simmering anger in Chase’s voice. I wanted to reach out and hug him and then tumble to the turf and make out. Unfortunately, I was the coach, and I had to stick to my script.

I said, “I’m not telling you how to think, but I do think we need to make a decision about the two of us, so we’re not distracted from the reason why we’re here. We can’t have a relationship. It would open up ten cans of worms. We need to put it to rest right now. We can’t treat it like it doesn’t matter, and we have to make a decision.”

Chase pounded his fist on his chest and blurted out, “I can’t treat my heart like it doesn’t matter either!”

I tried stepping forward to put a hand on Chase’s shoulder, and he rebuffed it by sticking out his right arm and shoving his open palm against my chest. He started to jog away, and I shouted after him, “I’m the coach, and you’re a player! That’s what we are! Now let’s win some ballgames! I know we can do that!”

I watched Chase as he jogged across the outfield in the direction of the dugout. He lowered his head again when he passed the base path. I sighed and stared up into the stands for a moment. I imagined my grandfather was staring down at me. He died while I was still playing in Little League, but I remembered every detail about the day he showed me his World Series ring. He placed it on my thumb so it would come close to fitting. I had a goofy smile on my face in the photo my mom shot and stuck in with the family Christmas letters that year.

In the dugout, I sat on the opposite end of the bench from Chase. I couldn’t keep my eyes completely off him, and I noticed him glancing in my direction periodically, but we never spoke during that first game.

Chase was one of the heroes of the season opener. He was in the fifth position in the batting lineup. I told Ben that he buried Chase in the batting order. I suggested that Chase might be an outstanding leadoff hitter, but putting him in second for now would give him some much-needed experience.

I was told, “He needs to prove he can bat better than the way he ended last season. I know he dominated the opposing pitchers in spring training, but he needs to convince me that he can do it here, too.”

I don’t think Chase heard the conversation, but he stepped up to the plate in the second inning looking like he was ready to prove himself. He unloaded on the second pitch and hit it into the right-field corner. When the dust settled, Chase slid into third base safely with a season-opening triple.

The Yellowjackets roared in the dugout. I heard Eric’s voice above the others shout, “All-Star!” Chase had a long road ahead for that designation, but I was already a believer.

Chase scored Charlotte’s first run of the season when the next batter dribbled a ball out toward second base. The fielder tried to look Chase back to third, but he knew that his only play was at first as Chase barreled into home. He was greeted with a hero’s welcome as we took the lead 1-0.

I had a smile on my face as I watched Chase, but he failed to look in my direction. He was still seething from our brief conversation.

The opening day contest wasn’t much of a game. By the sixth inning, we led 8-2, and our starting pitcher was in firm control. Chase added two more singles, but the first baseman somewhat overshadowed him by powering a grand slam over the center-field wall. Eric added punctuation to the victory when he hit a solo homer in the bottom of the eighth. The dugout was full of smiles of both triumph and relief. At least for opening day, the Charlotte Yellowjackets no longer looked like cellar dwellers.

As Mo Sadler, our closer, struck out the final batter of the game, our team stormed the field. Chase joined in the festivities while the team threatened to smother the tall, lanky pitcher between the pitcher’s mound and home plate. For a split second, I wondered if Mo might have an interest in Chase. He stared approvingly at the rookie in the dugout. When the group broke up, and players began filing toward the locker room, I attempted to approach Chase and congratulate him on the game.

I was surprised when he smiled and asked, “What did you think of that, Coach?”

I opened my arms wide and hugged him. “Congratulations! You were impressive. I’m looking forward to a fantastic season.”

As I pulled back, Chase said, “I was thinking about what Huggins said to me about the World Series. I don’t know if I mentioned that to you. I think he laid a lot of responsibility on both of us. If you need any extra help encouraging some of our hitters, let me know. My high school coach had me help him as a batting mentor.”

“You’d do that for me?

“I’d do a lot for you, Coach. I’d love to hang around and chat, but I’ve got a date with the media. I’ll see you around.”

My jaw dropped as Chase patted my cheek before heading to the locker room. His entire demeanor changed.

I knew that someday I would face the press on opening day, too. That was part of a manager’s job, but for the current season, I was in the junior section of the coaching staff. If it weren’t for my young age, no one would have noticed me at all. I was just another coach with a long-term dream.

After congratulating a few other players, I entered the locker room and headed for my office. Halfway there, my cell phone buzzed. I pulled it from my pocket worried that it was a call from Meyer Huggins.

Instead, it was Uncle John. He called to congratulate me on my first game in the majors. I was happy to receive the call. At least somebody noticed. He said, “Your hitters tore up the park. You must be doing something right.”

I laughed and said, “My one day here really lit a fire under them. I’m sure it’s all because of my presence.”

I heard the pride in Uncle John’s voice. He said, “Your grandpa would be extremely proud of you, Aaron. He’s probably up there in heaven bragging that his grandson will be one of the best managers the big leagues have ever known.”