[Jason]

May 1, 2006, 1:54pm, Comerica Park, Detroit
(Detroit is 15-9 and1 game ahead of Kansas City. Stats: .294, 7 HR, 21 RBI)

“Oh, s***!” Croteau said as he pointed to the left field bleachers. “Who the f*** is that?”

I just finished a very painful slide, naked, into home plate. My batting average fell below .300 for a week thanks for a horrific 2 for 17 stretch to end our recent road trip. The veterans didn’t give me an inch of slack over the bet we had made regarding my avoiding hazing. The minute I walked into the park I was greeted by Salinas and Croteau who escorted me to the ferris wheel in the park. After riding it in the buff for about ten minutes, I had to streak to the batter’s box. Faking a swing, I bolted around the bases while the guys cheered and laughed.

I noticed the laughing stop as I started my slide into home. If it wasn’t for the fact it hurt so bad I wanted to scream I would have likely been more concerned about why all the veterans stopped clapping and cheering.

“They’ve got a camera,” Allen Canfield snapped.

Salinas and Bill Sparks pulled me off the ground. My legs felt like they were burning from the dual scrapes thanks to the unforgiving dirt around the plate. I wanted to complain and ask the guys to slow down but it was like I was the President after someone shouted “gun.” The next ten seconds as they rushed me into the dugout and into the tunnel seemed like ten minutes. My eyes were watering but I forced myself not to actually cry because it was humiliating enough to have done what I did without letting them see me cry.

“Ryland’s going to have our asses,” Sparks said to Salinas. They placed me on a chair in front of my locker and Salinas tossed me a towel.

“Go see the trainer and get something on those scratches,” Salinas said. “We’ll be back.”

“He’s gonna cut us for sure,” Sparks started to say as they walked back out of the locker room.

I sat in my chair for a second and it finally hit me what Canfield had said before my crude removal from the field. There was someone in the park and they had a camera. My naked home run trot was captured and likely headed for the internet. I started to cry and felt very sick to my stomach. I jumped from my chair and ran for the bathroom.

I didn’t make it.

I threw up all over the floor near the opening of the bathroom. Tears and snot flowed while I continued to bring breakfast back for an encore. I was naked on all fours and shaking so hard I was having trouble catching my breath. I felt dizzy and I wasn’t sure exactly what was happening to me. I started to panic because I felt as if I was starting to suffocate even though I knew I was still breathing. I fell on the floor next to the puddle of vomit and continued to shake. I couldn’t see because I was shaking so hard and finally everything went black.

“What the hell are you gonna do?” I heard a voice say.

“I don’t know,” a voice replied. “I sure can’t cut them all even though I’m sure that’s what Dombrowski is going to want to do.”

I opened my eyes and noticed that I was in a darkened room. I glanced around to see I was in the trainer’s room with the lights turned off. The door was open and I could see team trainer Kevin Rand standing in the doorway talking to Jack Ryland.

“I don’t know when he’ll come around,” Rand said. “What do you want me to do when he wakes up?”

”Check him out to make sure he didn’t get a concussion or something when he fell on the floor,” Ryland said. “I’m not going to put him in the lineup for tonight so it’s your call about whether or not we just send him home.”

“You know he’s going to want to play,” Rand replied.

“I know he will,” Ryland said, “and that’s why you have to make the call. This kid is going to wake up very pissed off with a serious chip on his shoulder. I don’t want him to do something stupid.”

“All right,” Rand replied. I saw Ryland walk away as Kevin stood for a minute looking down at his shoes. He turned around and saw that I was looking at him.

”Hello Sleeping Beauty,” he said as he reached over and turned on the lights. Picking up a pen light from the desk next to the door, he walked over and shined them into my eyes. I winced from the brightness of the light and shook my head slightly.

“How do you feel?” Rand asked.

“Very pissed off,” I replied. “With a serious chip on my shoulder.”

“All right smart ass,” Rand said with a smile. “Now tell me how you really feel.”

“Disoriented,” I replied. “I don’t have a headache or anything. I’ll be fine. I can play tonight.”

“I’ll decide that,” Rand answered.

“How long was I out?” I asked as I slowly sat up.

“About two hours,” Rand said. “Salinas came back and found you. A few of the guys brought you in here and called me.”

“Great,” I said. “I’m never going to live this down. I couldn’t have screwed this up worse.”

Rand was quiet so I looked up to see him staring at me with a very puzzled look. I just looked back at him.

“Did I just fart?” I asked with a hint of sarcasm.

“Kid,” Rand said, “The last thing you have to worry about is living this down. In fact, there are a few guys in that locker room who feel like total s*** right now. A few are worried they’re not going to have a job in the morning.”

“Did they get the camera?” I shouted as my senses finally returned. I started to climb off the training table when Rand put his hand on my shoulder and held me down.

“Yeah, they got it,” Rand said, “but they had to rough up this guy to get it. The guy said he’s going to sue and go to the press about it so it’s likely this is only the beginning. Salinas destroyed the camera and video so you don’t have to think about that anymore but I’d be ready for some reporters to ask some very embarrassing questions.”

“Great,” I said laying back on the table. “My career’s over.”

I felt a knot in my stomach as if I was going to throw up again. I closed my eyes and felt the tears swell and then run down the side of my face and into my ears.

“It’s not over,” Rand said. “Although you’re likely going to have to deal with a lot of bulls*** for the next few months. And there will be jerks who will never let you live it down.”

“Thanks for the comforting words,” I said as I tried to laugh.

“Well, it’s the truth,” Rand said. “You want me to feed you a line of crap?”

“No,” I answered.

“All right,” Rand snapped. “Stand up.”

For the next half hour Rand put me through a series of coordination tests and mental exercises. I answered all the questions correctly and made through each physical test without a single stumble. Rand kept trying to make me slip up so he could tell me to go home but I didn’t give him a reason.

“OK,” Rand finally said. “I can’t send you home on medical reasons but I still think it would do you good to take the night off.”

“No,” I replied. “Even if Ryland sits me down all night I’m going to be in uniform and be on that field.”

Rand shook his head and just pointed toward the door. Standing up from the table, I put on a pair of uniform pants and walked to the doorway. Down the short hall from the locker room, I heard Ryland’s voice speaking with more anger than I had ever heard from him.

“You sons of b****es better hope that kid is fine,” Ryland said.

Someone else said something that I couldn’t make out but it apparently wasn’t something Ryland wanted to hear.

“I don’t care if you didn’t mean anything by it!” Ryland snapped. “You’re professional f***ing baseball players and you may have just ruined a kid’s career and this team’s chances to win! I’m not saying I didn’t do my share of hazing the rookies but for crying out loud you could have destroyed that kid today! You better home that kid hits .400 with 50 home runs this year. If he goes down the tubes because of your little stunt all of you will be playing somewhere else next year if you’re not in jail for hitting that guy!”

I turned the corner into the locker room and everyone turned to look at me. Ryland was standing at the far side of the room and all the guys were sitting in front of their lockers.

“I need to play tonight,” I said as I looked directly at Ryland.