3
Wes
After taking the time to explain to my father just what had happened at spring training, and then gathering my belongings from the hotel, I knew I had to make a call to my agent, Randy Miller. Randy has been my agent ever since I was signed out of high school to play ball, and he has always done right by me. Some people may think that he is pushy and arrogant, and he is, but that’s what helps to make him so good at his job. As I drove up through Florida and Georgia, heading back home, I gave him a call at his office in New York. He knew what the call was about as soon as I got him on the line.
“Wes, I heard what happened, and I’m sorry,” Randy started off the conversation. There was sincerity in his voice, and I knew he felt bad about my getting released.
“Thanks, Randy,” I said to him as I tried not to sound like this was the worst day of my life.
“I’ve already started making some calls, pinpointing teams that may need a first baseman or a DH, so I’ve got some feelers out for you already. I don’t think it will be too long before we hear from someone about an offer.”
“I’m in no rush Randy,” I said to him resignedly. “To be honest, it feels good to be able to go home for a few days and spend some time with my folks and Izzy. I think I can use the break physically and mentally. It’s been a rough spring.”
“I know it has bud,” Randy answered, trying to reassure me. “Take a few days to get yourself together, and I’ll see what I can come with for you. Once word gets around that you are available, I don’t think you’ll be hanging out for too long. Sit tight, and I’ll get to work for you. In the meantime, enjoy the ride home. The weather’s a little chillier up this way than what you had in Bradenton, so be prepared. I’ll talk to you as soon as I hear anything.”
“Okay, Randy, thanks,” I said as I hung up the speakerphone. I turned the radio on to listen to something, anything to get my mind off what had happened, and I made the mistake of putting on a sports radio station. I heard them mention that I had gotten released today, so close to the end of spring training. They went on and on about how it might be tough for me to latch on somewhere else or that maybe my time was over in baseball.
The thought that I was done had crossed my mind as well, and now that I had all this alone time on the ride home, it was becoming more and more of something for me to obsess over. Perhaps my time was over after spending half my life playing ball. It certainly was a possibility, but at thirty-five I wasn’t exactly ready to just sit around for the next fifty years of my life doing nothing. I had made a lot of money playing, and I was always careful with my spending, saving, and investing. Izzy and I could live quite comfortably without an issue. The problem would be finding a way to fill that empty hole in my life if I wasn’t getting up to play ball each day.
Sure, I could spend time with my daughter, but Izzy was fifteen now. How much time does she really want to spend with her father? She’s gotten so used to not having me around for nearly ten months out of the year that I didn’t know how thrilled she would be to have me there all the time. She has school, her friends, her hobbies, and in a few years, she will be ready to go off to college. It will be great to be there for her, but then what happens when she is gone?
My parents were getting older, and even though Dad was in pretty good health, Mom was not. Cancer has been her main battle for the better part of a year now, and it was going to be difficult to deal with. Dad has had a lot of the burden on him, but with Izzy’s help, they have been able to make things work. With everything going on, maybe having me around would be a good thing right now. Dad has been tasked with taking care of Mom, Izzy and the horse farm that was a big part of the land they lived on.
Dad has run the horse farm since I was little, and it has been his pride and joy. I learned to ride at a pretty young age and spent my formative years working alongside him, tending to the horses. But once baseball became a bigger part of my life, I spent less time there to focus on playing. After I made it to the majors, it afforded me the money to make sure that the farm was there for him and my mother. I bought the land adjacent to theirs and expanded the area for them, as well as built a home for me, Izzy and Rachel, at the time, just on top of the hill beyond their home. I always knew that this was where I was going to return to, I just never thought it would happen now.
I guess somewhere in the back of my mind I knew retirement came for ballplayers at a much younger age than people in other careers, but as a player, you always think that day is further off than it may really be. No one likes to hear they aren’t wanted anymore, can’t perform as well as they used to or that they won’t be missed when they leave, but the reality is that we’re all replaceable when it comes to working. I’ve only been gone from the team for a few hours, but I am sure they are already focused on the new, younger kid that will make a bigger impact than I would.
I heard a few phone calls on the talk radio show mention me, and how it was about time they got rid of me or how my time had passed. Fans are passionate in many ways about the game, and they want to see their team win, something that hasn’t happened in Pittsburgh in a long while now, so I can understand their frustration. As a player, you grow used to hearing both sides of the argument. You love the cheers you get at the stadium or when people come up to you in public and say how much they love you as a player, but just as often you hear the jeers, boos and far worse from fans that are frustrated and want you to be better. It’s never easy no matter how you look at it.
Getting lost in my thoughts had allowed me to get much further along on my drive than I thought I would when I left Florida. Typically, the drive home from Florida would take roughly seventeen hours, so as much as I wanted to make it home in one day, I knew I would not be able to do it in one shot. All the coffee in the world wouldn’t let me get there. I had left Bradenton around ten in the morning, and as it was now approaching seven in the evening. The sun was starting to set, and I knew I wouldn’t be driving much longer. I was still in Virginia and had about eight hours of driving left, so I got off the highway and stopped at the first hotel I could find to see if I could get a room for the night.
The first place that came along was one of the big chain hotels, and while this hotel wasn’t large, it was going to suit my needs just fine. I pulled into one of the parking spots, and saw that the lot didn’t have a lot of cars there other than mine, probably the norm for a Thursday evening in March. I stepped out of the car and immediately felt a chill in the air. There was probably a twenty or thirty-degree difference from when I left Florida to now. I grabbed one of my small bags out of the trunk and my leather jacket off the back seat before I walked to the entrance and through the automatic doors of the hotel.
The hotel itself was clean and bright, with pleasant lighting throughout the lobby area. There was a young man behind the front desk, dressed in the jacket and tie appropriate for this hotel branch. His nametag read Bruce, and he looked no more than twenty-five. He smiled at me from the time I got within fifteen feet of the front desk until I stood right in front of him, a toothy grin that seemed almost robotic in nature. His short neatly cropped brown hair looked like it never moved or grew at all.
“Good evening sir,” he said to me cordially. “How can I help you tonight?
“Hi,” I replied. “I was looking for a room for tonight.”
“Do you have a reservation?” Bruce asked me dutifully.
“No, no I don’t,” I told him. I assumed by the lack of cars in the parking lot that getting a room wasn’t going to be a problem, and I saw Bruce typing away at his keyboard as he worked to locate a room for me.
“I have several rooms you can choose from tonight,” Bruce said with his customary smile. “I have rooms with double beds, queen beds or king beds, your choice.”
“I’ll take one of the king-size beds, please,” I said to him as I go out my wallet from my front jeans pocket. I handed over my credit card to Bruce, and he ran it through the card system. He took a look at the card and handed it back to me, presenting me with the hotel slip to sign along with it.
Bruce then handed the small white keycard over to me. “Here’s your key Mr. Martin,” he told me. “You’re in room 304, on the third floor. The elevator is just to the left here in the lobby, and there is complimentary breakfast in the lounge in the morning starting at 7 AM.”
I peered over into the lounge and saw the bar there along with some tables, a couch, and a large screen TV.
“Is the bar open?” I asked Bruce as I put my credit card away and picked up my bag.
“Yes sir, until 12 AM. You can also get food there until 11.”
“Great, thanks, Bruce,” I said as I nodded and smiled at him.
“You’re very welcome Mr. Martin,” Bruce answered. “You have a great night.”
I walked over to the elevator and pressed the button. Within a few seconds, the doors slid open, and a man who looked to be about my age walked out with his young son. The boy was wearing a baseball cap, and the man took a long look at me as I smiled at both of them. I was pretty sure he recognized me and was probably wondering what I was doing hundreds of miles away from where I should be. I was still wondering the same thing. As the elevator door closed, I could see the man still looking at me, pointing and saying something to his son.
The elevator arrived on the third floor and I moved out into the hall. I found my room just two doors away from the elevator, pushed the keycard in, and opened the door. I placed my bag on the obligatory chair across from the bed and sat down on the bed. It felt like the typical hotel bed to me, one I had been on in thousands of places over thousands of days. It was firm, but not too firm, a bit saggy in spots, and it had the same floral bed cover that every other hotel has. I pulled out my phone to give Dad a call and let him know where I was at.
“Hey,” I heard his voice answer right away. “I was wondering when I would hear from you. Where are you at?”
“I’m in Virginia,” I told him. “I’m about seven hours away. I was getting punchy, so I stopped at a hotel for the night.”
“Good idea,” Dad said in his fatherly tone. “So you’ll be here by tomorrow afternoon.”
“I should be,” I told Dad. He was never much at small talk or conversation on the phone. “How’s Izzy?”
“Oh, she’s fine,” Dad said to me. “I didn’t tell her you were coming home; I didn’t want to worry her. She’s been in with your mother all day. She stayed home from school today. I needed to get out to the stable with Dr. Walters to check the horses, so she stayed home with your mother. I hope that’s okay.”
“It’s fine Dad. What’s wrong with Mom?”
“Oh, you know, same old stuff. Some days are worse than others. Your mother just had trouble breathing today is all. The oxygen helps, but it doesn’t always do the trick. I just wanted someone there in case she needed anything while I was out.”
Dad’s voice never wavered. It always had the calm, monotone to it, whether he was happy, sad, or angry, so I could never tell when things were bad or not.
“I can get home tonight if you really need some help, Dad,” I told him, letting him know my concern.
“Stop it, Wes, everything is fine. Get a good night of rest, and we’ll see you in the afternoon tomorrow. You want to talk to Izzy?” Dad asked me.
“No, it’s fine,” I replied to him. “Just… just tell her I was tired after practice and that I love her. I don’t want her to worry about me.”
“I’ll let her know. Talk to you later,” Dad told me as he hung up.
I put the phone in my shirt pocket and felt my stomach grumble a bit. I hadn’t bothered to stop for any food along the way and was starving at this point. I pulled myself up off the bed and went back to the elevator, pressing the call button. Again, the elevator arrived quickly, and I stepped in and went right down to the main floor.
I walked past the front desk, with Bruce smiling that same smile at me as his eyes followed me all the way over to the lounge. I walked over to the small bar area and sat at the bar. There was no one else around, but within seconds the bartender appeared from a door behind the bar.
He was an older man, looking older than me. He was balding, with a few stray gray hairs on top, but he was tall and had a proud stature. He stood in front of me and smiled, as he slid a small cocktail napkin in front of me.
“Evening,” he said with his slight southern drawl. “What can I get for you?”
I glanced over at the selections of beers behind him and then decided to have something a little stronger. I spied a bottle of Grey Goose behind the bartender, my favorite vodka.
“I’ll have a Grey Goose martini, on the rocks, please,” I said to the bartender. I glanced at his nametag and saw his name was Gary.
“Coming up,” he said as he turned and grabbed the bottle of vodka off the shelf. I watched him expertly mix the vodka and vermouth in his shaker, using just the right amounts of each. He shook the mixture slightly, and I could hear the ice rattle in the shaker for a few seconds before he poured the drink out into the rocks glass filled with ice. He tossed in a couple of green olives on a toothpick and placed the drink in front of me.
“Thanks, Gary,” I said as I raised the glass and took a sip. I could feel the lovely burn of the vodka and vermouth hit my tongue. It was the first martini I had in a while, and it was perfect. “Very nice,” I said to him.
“I’m glad you like it,” Gary told me with a smile. “Can I get you a menu?” he asked me, reaching beneath the bar for one.
“Please,” I said as he handed the paper menu over to me. It was typical hotel and bar fare, with soup, salads, sandwiches, and burgers on it. I didn’t really have to be careful about what I ordered for dinner tonight since I didn’t have to worry about workouts or a game the next day, so I decided to order the pub burger with onion rings and French fries.
Gary took my order and entered it into his register while I continued to sip on my martini. I glanced over at the big screen TV, and it was broadcasting the big sports channel with sports news. They showed a highlight of the spring training game between the Pirates and Phillies, and how Bill Thomas, the young twenty-one-year old that replaced me, hit a big home run today. I turned away from the TV and took a long sip of the martini, draining the glass.
Gary saw the glass was empty and walked over. “Get you another?” he asked as he picked up the glass and dumped the ice into the sink below the bar.
“Please,” I said emphatically. I turned around the stool and looked to my left and saw the man from the elevator walking with his young boy again. The boy was wrapped in a towel now, so I figured that they must have used the indoor pool. As they were walking by, the man stopped and saw me again. I smiled and nodded as he and the boy looked on. They began to approach me, unsure of what they should do.
“Are you… Wes Martin?” the man asked, unsure if it was me.
“I am,” I said to him quietly.
“Robbie,” the man said turning to the boy, “this is Wes Martin, from the Pirates… oh, I’m sorry,” he said, embarrassed that he had mentioned the team that cut me early in the morning.
“It’s okay,” I told him. “ Nice to meet you, Robbie. I’m Wes.” I extended my hand, and the young boy came up and shook it.
“Would it be okay if we got a picture with you, Mr. Martin?” the man asked. He seemed more like a young boy now than his son did.
“Sure,” I told him as I stood up off the stool. The man fumbled with his cell phone, trying to angle it so he could get all three of us in the picture before Gary offered to take the picture for him. He handed the phone to Gary, who snapped a couple of photos of the three of us.
“Thanks so much Mr. Martin,” the man said to me, shaking my hand again. “I’m sorry to disturb you.”
“No disturbance at all,” I told him, as I watched them walk away, both staring at the photos on the phone.
I sat back down at the bar and Gary appeared with my burger, sliding the full plate in front of me. I turned and looked up at him and smiled.
“You must get that all the time,” Gary said as he handed me a napkin that wrapped a knife and fork.
“Not as much as you think,” I said as I picked up an onion ring and ate it. “Most people don’t recognize me when I’m not wearing a uniform.” I took a bite out of the hamburger, seeing it was cooked nicely to a medium. It tasted like the best thing I had eaten in weeks.
“Raw deal you got today,” Gary said to me as he wiped down the bar. “You deserved better after all those years.”
“That’s the way it goes sometimes,” I said in between bites. “It’s a business too, so I get it, even if I don’t like it.”
“Well, I hope you catch on with someone else and then stick it to the Pirates,” Gary said with a smile.
I wiped my face with the napkin after another bite and stifled a laugh. “I’ll do my best.”
The rest of my brief meal passed quietly as I finished up. By then, a blonde woman had come into the lounge and taken a seat at the bar a few down from mine. She sat down, wearing a red button-down shirt and blue jeans, and ordered a rum and cola. She glanced down at me and gave me a brief smile. She looked to be about my age, well-tanned as if she too had just come from Florida, and her shirt was open just enough to show a hint of cleavage beneath it. A quick glance at her hand indicated no wedding ring (something as a ballplayer I had become accustomed to looking for on women; married women were always off-limits to me).
“How are you tonight?” she said to me as she raised her glass to me, flashing a bright smile. Her voice had a bit of a gravelly tone, giving her a sexy note to her inflection.
“Doing well, thanks, and you?” I said to her as I politely raised my glass as well and took another sip of martini.
“Great,” she told me, “Just relaxing after a long day.”
I could see there was a glimmer of hope in her eyes that I would jump in and do some flirting, and on any other day I might have spent some more time with her, but today I just didn’t have it in me. I placed my glass down on the bar and pushed my empty plate away. Gary walked over and pulled both away from me.
“Anything else?” Gary asked me.
“That’s it, Gary, I’m calling it a night,” I said to him. I could see the disappointment on the lady’s face as she turned away from me now, focusing her attention on the TV. Gary slid the check over to me.
“I can charge it to your room if you like,” he said quietly to me.
“I got it,” I told him as I pulled some cash from my wallet. I handed Gary the cash for the meal and drinks and then handed him two twenties. “Take the lady’s drink from this, and the rest is for you,” I told him. Gary took the money in his left hand and then presented his right hand to me.
“Thanks, Mr. Martin, it’s greatly appreciated,” he said to me with a big smile. “I hope to see you playing again soon,” he said softly.
“Thanks, Gary,” I told him as I got up from the stool. I gave a congenial nod to the lady at the bar, and she gave me a passing smile as she finished her drink. Gary began walking down to her as I walked away and back to the elevator.
I walked passed Bruce, who was still positioned at his station, and he followed me with his smile as I went to the elevator. Once I was back in my room, I stripped out of my shirt and jeans and just climbed under the blanket, wearing only my briefs.
My head was spinning a little from the martinis, and as I closed my eyes, I could see flashing colors in front of me. Once they subsided a bit, I drifted off to sleep quickly, feeling spent from a stressful day and hoping that tomorrow would bring better things for me.