[Jason]

April 4, 2007, 10:39pm; Kaufman Stadium, Kansas City, MO
(Detroit is 0-1 after losing on opening night)

“Man, that was really ugly,” Jim Price’s voice said from the little XM Satellite Radio sitting in Dealba’s locker. “The team looked just as flat tonight as they did in spring training.”

“Flat my ass,” Salinas grumbled next to me. “We were more like a downhill slope.”

I sat in my chair staring at the picture of Tammi I had in my locker. The Royals had just finished hanging twelve hits on us and we lost 4-1 on opening night. I had two of our team’s three hits but neither one was a serious hit. If the Royals had major league players instead of a glorified triple A team the fielders would have had the range to get the grounder I chucked up the middle.

“Well, Jim,” Dan Dickerson’s voice said from the box, “remember that it’s early in the season. Sure, we want to win opening night but they were on the road and didn’t get into Kansas City on time. They were delayed four hours by thunderstorms in the Kansas City area.”

“I know Dan,” Price countered. “But look at the horrible spring of the club and tonight’s performance doesn’t lend much credence to Dale Ellison’s promise the team would ‘turn it on’ when the season started.”

I felt the heat in my cheeks as my self-loathing kicked into high gear. Spring training was winding down and I had just come back to the team hotel after a night out with Tammi when I ran into Price in the hotel bar. I sat and had a few drinks and he brought up my slow spring. I told him that once the regular season came around we’d all flip it on like a light switch. He started to tell me stories about guys he knew during his playing days that felt that way and I cut him off and left. I knew I shouldn’t have done that and I knew I should have apologized. Hearing him on the radio bring up my words on the radio, I knew I’d burned a bridge.

“The team really did struggle in the Grapefruit League,” Dickerson said. “Only winning seven games in the spring isn’t what they had in mind when they arrived in Florida.”

“No,” Price said. “And if you had asked Ellison if he’d hit .200 for the spring he would have laughed at you.”

“I hit .216 you jerk,” I said quietly to the radio.

I turned my head to look around the room for Dealba. The new golden boy of the ballclub was standing next to the shower holding court with a few reporters. I stood from my chair and began to reach for Dealba’s radio when Salinas interrupted.

“Leave it on,” he said.

”Come on Will,” I said. “I don’t need this right now.”

“Yes you do,” Salinas replied. “We all do.”

“Price is blowing it all out of proportion,” I said. “The spring stats don’t matter and one loss on the road isn’t going to be the end of our season.”

“Actually,” Steven Spurrier said as he walked up to us, “it could.”

This caught both Salinas’ and my attention.

“Please go on,” Salinas said with a curious smile.

“When I was in high school,” Spurrier said as I groan and Salinas glared at me, “We were expected to win the league title. Our first game of the season was against Burlington South high who was always the doormat of the league.”

“Kind of like the Royals,” Salinas said.

“Yep,” Spurrier said. “Anyway, we get to their field and they had maybe ten people in the stands to root for them. We had a hundred. It was sweet.”

“So what happened?” I said with obvious impatience.

“In time,” Spurrier said with a smile that indicated he was going to make this harder on me because I sassed him. “Be patient young grasshopper.”

I rolled my eyes and flopped back in the chair next to my locker. Salinas turned his to face Spurrier and motioned with his hand to continue.

“So we go out and I give up four runs in the first inning. I walked the first two hitters and I had three errors behind me.”

“Ouch,” I said.

“So we get up in the second inning and go down in order. We go out and give up three more runs in the second.”

“Not your best day,” Salinas said.

“Not my worst, either,” Spurrier said as we all laughed. “Anyway, when we hit the fifth inning down 7-0, we tried to turn it on to come back. We lost 7-5.”

“Gave it a run,” I said.

“When we got to the end of the season we were 25 and 3,” Spurrier said.

“That’s impressive,” Salinas said. “You didn’t win your league with that?”

“Nope,” Spurrier said. “Grove Valley High had a 25 and 2 record. Their two losses were both to us but since they had a higher winning percentage they got the championship and a playoff berth.”

Salinas looked at me with the scolding look of a father. I couldn’t look at him.

“So anyway,” Spurrier said, “I always keep that in mind when I lose a game like I lost tonight. Makes me realize I have to focus to be the best every night and if I’m tired or whatever I have to fight my hardest.”

“You’ve come a long way, Steve,” Salinas said.

I turned away from the guys and stared at the picture of Tammi. I really wanted to pick up the phone and call her but since she was on call at the shelter tonight I couldn’t bother her.

“I think it’s time the team went back to the basics,” Price’s voice said from Dealba’s radio. “Do the basics because I think they’re all caught up in being major league baseball players.”

“That might be true,” Dickerson said.

”It is true,” I said.

“Did you say something?” Salinas said as he held a finger up to Spurrier.

“Yeah,” I said as I stood up and grabbed a bat from Salinas’ locker. “I asked where the batting cage was.”