October 16, last year
“Good news, Mr. Slaughter,” renowned orthopedic specialist, Dr. Woods, announced upon entering the fully decked out examining room. “The x-ray confirms your fracture has healed quite nicely.”
“See, Nathaniel. I told you,” my mother said to me. She never shied away from rubbing it in when I was wrong. “So, Dr. Woods, where do we go from here?”
“Well, Mrs. Slaughter, is it?”
“Mrs. Sandoval, but please, call me Tammy.” She held out her hand which the doctor shook.
“Nice to meet you, Tammy.” He turned to me. “As we have discussed before, I am expecting you to start physical therapy right away.” He took a card out of his pocket. “Here is the number of the physical therapy clinic. The kinesiologist there specializes in sports injuries, especially therapy for tendon and ligament reconstruction. You will be in excellent hands.”
“Okay, so now will you tell me, in your honest opinion, what my chances are to play baseball again?”
Dr. Woods sighed. “Honestly, Nate, I don’t know. You’re healing nicely.” He set my chart down and sat on the stool in front of my chair. “My major concern is your patellar dislocation. They are tricky little buggers and need to be rehabbed carefully. You were active before the injury, so it may go faster. However, I will tell you this: I am sending you to the best specialist in rehabilitation I have ever seen. I’ve seen them do the seemingly impossible over there. But it’s a combination of your ability to heal and how well you follow their directions.” He scribbled something on my chart. “It’ll take time. You can’t rush it.”
“I really want to be ready for spring training, Doc.”
“That’s in February. It’s October 16. That might be pushing it.” He scribbled again. “Tell you what. Let my receptionist make the first appointment when you check out today for some time this week. Let the staff over at the clinic assess your situation. Be honest about what you want to accomplish. They’ll let you know if it can be done.”
“What’s your best guess?”
He shrugged and smiled tightly. “Miracles can happen.”
Miracles? Again? Crap.
***
While I visited the restroom, Mom set up the appointment with the PT clinic for the next day, and then she drove me home. Unfortunately my knee brace made it difficult for me to drive, so I had to be chauffeured around like a pre-teen anywhere farther than a few miles away from home. This uselessness I felt seemed to be getting worse, and the thought that I might never play again was weighing on me like lead. I felt like I was floundering.
“Nathaniel,” Mom began. She used her worried voice, so I knew I was in for it. She was never one to pull punches, metaphorically speaking, when I grew up. Realistic parenting is what she called it. She was supportive, but she always called me on my shit. I knew this would be one of those conversations. She’d start out telling me how worried she is, then light my ass on fire with some hard truths, and finally, she’d sugar coat it with some humor or lovey-dovey mom shit. There was always a lesson or a moral I’d take away from it. This parenting style made me who I am today. I’ve always known I was loved, but at the same time, I developed some thick skin, a trait that comes in very handy for a famous ball player. Tammy Nicole Brown Slaughter (now Sandoval) was one tough momma. She’d tried the last few days to talk to me, but I’d repeatedly shut her down. Now, trapped in this car, I had no choice but to endure it.
After a pause, she started in. “I’m worried.” See? I knew it. “Ever since you’ve been home, you’ve been moping around. I know this is difficult, but I’m concerned that you might be…”
“What, Mom? Depressed?” I snapped. “I probably am. My career, you know, the one I’ve dreamed about since I was a little boy, may be over.” I closed my eyes. “I have a right to be pissed about that.”
“Yes, Nathaniel, your career may be over. And it IS okay to be pissed about it. But your life isn’t over.” She sighed. “Look, I haven’t said anything until now because I felt that you needed time. But now, well, I think it’s time you started living.”
“And just what do you think I have been doing all this time?”
“Eating, sleeping and breathing baseball.” She looked at me. “Not living.”
I was quiet for a minute. “I have a life,” I finally grumbled defensively.
“Really, Nate? Where’s the evidence? In the parade of friends who have come to visit you?” She snapped her fingers as if a thought occurred to her. “Oh, yeah! That’s right, there haven’t been any.” She grunted. “Where’s your loving wife? My grandchildren? Heck, right now I’d settle for a devoted girlfriend or one good friend. But there isn’t anyone.”
“There’s Jeremy. He’s a good friend.”
“No, he’s not. He’s a proximity friend – only a friend as long as you are around each other all the time. How many times has he called since you’ve been home?”
I ran my hands over my head in frustration. I was losing this argument. “I had a girlfriend. You met her last December at the…”
“Had, Nate. Had. And I know you were never serious about her. I’m pretty sure that was just for publicity. Anyway, where is she now?” When I didn’t answer, she continued. “Yeah, don’t you get it? You’re lonely.” The more she spoke, the louder she became. “And it’s no one’s fault but yours. You created all these superficial relationships based on your job or your celebrity. They were only around you because of what you do, not who you are. And I think you liked it that way, no one gets close, no one hurts you.” She banged her hand on the steering wheel, her voice in a full-on shout now. “And what’s worse is that you could be very happy right now, but you royally screwed that up and let your happiness run away from you. Ugh. That right there is the stupidest thing you’ve ever done. I told you NOT to screw it up. And now you have no one close to you. Your so-called closest friends are all tied to baseball and can’t even take a second out of their busy lives to make a phone call or come see you, even though their season is over. All you have is me and your brother, which is kind of loser-ish.”
“Ouch.”
“Look, if you don’t like getting called a loser, then stop acting like one.”
“Jeez, Mom… Wow.”
Silence followed my almost whispered interjection. After a long time, she looked over at me, a guilty look on her face. All her anger had vanished and her tone softened. “I know it probably feels like I’m kicking you when you’re down.”
I laughed humorlessly. “Yeah, right in the junk.”
“But I just want you to be happy, Nathaniel. And you’re not. You’ve relied on one thing to bring you joy these last few years. The problem with relying on only one thing is that when it goes away, you have nothing left. And life is hollow without people in it, Honey.” She flipped her hair over her shoulder. “You know, you could make some calls to Chris or Josh… or you could call...”
“I never kept in touch with anyone,” I cut her off. I knew where the conversation was going, and it would kill me to hear her name right now. Mom had always held out hope that we’d end up together. After two years of pleading with me to try to contact her, Mom gave up asking.
“So?”
“So they are probably angry at me for not contacting them.”
She smiled. “Oh, I know they are. That just means you need to work hard at reconnecting.” I rolled my eyes. “I honestly don’t know if there is such things as fate, destiny, karma, kismet, signs, or other things like that, but this whole situation could be one of them. Life’s, or maybe even God’s way of telling you to make some changes? It’s possible, don’t you think?”
“I used to think anything is possible.” I turned to look out the window. “Now, I’m not so sure.”
“Okay. So I want you to really think about what you will do if you can’t play anymore. Make a list. You can still work in baseball as a coach, become a sports commentator,” she grinned goofily at me, “start that boy band. Or you can try that superhero option you had if baseball didn’t work out.”
I smiled in spite of my anger. “I was five.”
“Well, your other unrealistic childhood wish came true.” She turned into my driveway and put the car in park. “I could make you a costume.”
I laughed and turned to face her. “I think that was in the top five ass chewings I’ve ever gotten from you, Mom. Shit, that was brutal.”
“Eh. You’re older. And famous. I had to step up my game… knock you down a peg.”
“Mission accomplished.”
“So, your brother is going to take you to your appointment tomorrow. In the meantime, make that list. Think really hard about what you would be happy doing. Jacob can help you. Don’t give up on being able to play again, but you need to have a backup plan.”
“Wait, you’re not going to come in and cook me dinner?” I raised my eyebrow and grinned at her. “After that vicious verbal abuse you just made me suffer through?”
She pulled me toward her and kissed my forehead. “Nope. I’ve neglected my new husband long enough. Your brother told me he will be home by six to hang out with you. Besides, I already left you boys a casserole. 350 degrees for 30 minutes. And I want my dish back. Washed this time.”
I laughed as I got out of the car. “I love you, Mom.”
She smiled knowingly. “Damn right you do.”