The Playoff Push - ( Closed on invite only )

[Light Ice]

It was the plane that'd made it all real to him. As it began to descend towards the airport below he finally understood what'd just happened and where he was headed. Pittsburgh was a baseball black-hole. It scarcely filled its Stadium to half capacity and almost never sold out. His dream, everything he'd wanted so badly to happen, had taken a suddenly difficult, realistic turn.

Three days ago he'd been the most highly-touted prospect of the Boston Red Sox. A left-handed starting pitcher with five pitches, all plus-plus. He'd read his own scouting reports enough to know that he was high-value. But to be traded? It'd never crossed his mind. Not even for a moment. His path to the major leagues was almost at its end. He'd be a late-season call-up for the bullpen when the Red Sox made their push for the playoffs and he might even make the Roster for the Play-Offs itself. By next Spring he'd earn his spot on an already enviable rotation. His dad had been on the phone daily asking him when he thought he'd move up, making sure that Jack got tickets for his entire family and friends and didn't forget to call everyone.

It'd been perfect.

And then he'd been called into the manager's office in Pawtucket, sat in the battered chair in-front of the desk. When he realized they were informing him he was moving on, not moving up, he'd almost cried. It'd been the Red Sox that'd drafted him, helped him build his arm up until he was more than a flamethrower but a horse as well. They were one of, if not the best, organizations in baseball. The only comparison was the Yankees and they were a pipe-dream for a young talent. Their entire roster was a list of seasoned all-stars. Boston, for Jack, was the very best place to be.

Pittsburgh loomed up below him with its convoluted network of bridges and tunnels. It looked like three separate cities mashed together, cut by twisting rivers and flanked by the high cliffs of the Pennsylvanian hills. It was a handsome city, he'd give it that. But it was also the baseball equivalent of purgatory. The Pirates were a team in serious financial skids. They hadn't seen the playoffs in almost twenty years.

His agent, Scott Alverez, had assured him it was more a good thing than a bad. In Pittsburgh he'd get a chance to start right away against the weaker line-ups in the National League. In Pittsburgh he'd have a chance to be a bright spot in the otherwise weak sea of talented, but underprepared, prospects. The team's most impressive name was a fellow rookie, their third baseman. Being a part of a team's upswing and joining the core of its talent at the start was a unique opportunity.

He'd also said that if Jack wanted it to go that way he'd have to work twice as hard.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

His phone rang, and he answered it. The Pirates had good news and bad news. The good news was that he was staying in Pittsburgh and joining up with the team tomorrow when they got in from Cincinnati. The bad news was that he was starting on three-days rest, and he'd have very little time with his new catcher. His first start would be infront of the home crowd against the Phillies line-up and short-rested. It didn't bode well.

He'd spend the next day going over scouting reports on the Phillies line-up, particularly the power-heavy middle of the line-up.

He wasn't certain how he'd be received. The Pirates were showing signs of life, beginning to pose an outsider's shot at the Wild Card. The National League had lagged collectively just long enough for a couple win-streaks by the Buccaneers to let them crawl into the outside of the conversation. But they'd just lost their all-star shortstop to a trade and picked up a few prospects, Jack included. He wondered how it'd effect their stride, how they'd scrutinize him while he worked.

His hope was to make an immediate impact. The truth was if Jack wasn't ready now he wasn't sure he would be. He'd never had a firmer grasp on his mechanics, never felt as strong as he did right now. If he couldn't jump into the National League and confuse hitters now, when they were entirely unfamiliar with him, it seemed hard to imagine he'd be more effective after they'd put together reports on his tendencies and delivery.

A cough took his attention, the driver's head bobbing as he lifted a hand to cover his mouth.

Jack shook his worries away. They'd not do him any good. Pressure had arrived in perfunctory style and he'd have to adjust and find his groove. He'd only a day. It'd have to be enough. The hotel was nice, but not too nice. He checked in under the name Howard Duck, faintly humoring himself before he found the room. He had Scott looking for apartments for him.

Apparently his new pitching coach didn't have a lot of confidence. He found the black binders piled on the dresser. Scouting reports on the Phillies hitters. He was getting started tonight after all. The small card left beside them was signed in a sarcastic scrawl, the humor dark and knowing.

Welcome to the Bigs. Have fun.

Jack Woodrow McCall's welcome to the Big Leagues was a stack of binders and a lonely hotel room. That seemed about right.

 

[SiaKlynn]

Maxine Rose Alexander

“Max!”

Bellows a balding man from inside an office and cringing at a desk three cubicles down is a woman with long dark hair, bangs sweep across a pair of dark eyes partially hidden by a pair of silver wire glasses. Pressing her palms to the desk she stands to her feet and steps out into the narrow walkway and crosses to the man’s office. Standing within the door frame she is dressed business casual in a lavender button down dress shirt tucked into a pair of black dress pants 3 inch knee high boots hidden beneath the pant legs. “Yes, Mr. Alexander?”

A quirk of a smile crosses her lips as lively dark eyes settle on the middle aged overweight man sitting lazily behind his desk while reading today’s newspaper. “Max –“

“Maxine.”

She corrects him to which he rolls his eyes and sets the newspaper flat on the desk, “Maxine,” he smiles, “I have an assignment for you. The Pirates have acquired a new pitcher, who flew in this afternoon. He’s staying at the Omni. I want you to pay him a visit and make sure he settled in, make sure he feels at home.”

“Alright, does this new player have a name?” Maxine says dryly, another ball player, she knew her uncle’s firm had other accounts other than Pittsburg Pirates, but he had chosen her as the personal social assistant for the team’s pitchers. She made sure they were taken care of while on the road and when school was not in session she sometimes traveled with the team – well, not so much with them, but would be personally available to manage their social calendar. Maxine was bored by baseball, but her uncle found that as little excuse. His way of thinking is that while she’s in college earning her degree in communications and marketing she will work where he feels she’s best suited and then after graduation if she wants a job he will allow her to take over an account of her choice. In the second semester of her sophomore year at Robert Morris University she has another two and half years of playing hostess for the ball players before she can move on. In truth it is a small price to pay when she considers the amount of field experience she is accumulating. A scarce few can claim the same opportunities.

“His name is Jack McCall and he’s registered under Howard Duck.” Scrunching the newspaper aside he rummages for a file folder and holds it out to Maxine, “Here’s his file. I doubt he’s expecting you, so I’m sure you’ll be a pleasant surprise.”

“Fantastic.” Stepping inside the office she snatches the folder from her uncle and flips it open, staring at the picture and glancing over the basic information. “I’ll pay him a visit on my way home.”

“Are you coming by for dinner tonight? Ricky tells me Kent got in a few hours ago and I know he’d like to see you.”

Her lips pull into a tight smile, “No, I have plans.”

“Alright, maybe another night he’s here for a week. I’ll tell him you said hi.”

“Please don’t tell him I said anything.”

“Max…”

“Good-bye, uncle.”

Maxine leaves his office before the same old argument can begin. Stopping by her desk she shuts down her computer and grabs her purse and sweater. Outside the 12 story building Maxine hails a cab and once inside she goes over the file of her latest client. The Omni was only a handful of blocks away so less than 30 minutes later she’s standing in front of suite 1004 knuckles wrapping against the door.

 

[Light Ice]

"Mr. McCall?!"

He'd never heard the knock. The living area of the hotel suite was a maelstrom, a veritable mess of scattered papers. On the television, a massive flat-screen, a looped DVD of the Phillies line-up against various left-handed pitchers played. He'd been seated on the floor in his nylon shorts watching as pitch after pitch on screen was slapped into various parts of the outfield grass or stretches of Citizen's Bank Park's bleacher seats. It enforced what the scouting reports had already suggested. There was no-room for error against their offense. It was stacked, one through eight, with contact and power hitters capable of single-handedly throwing off your rhythm and forcing you to pitch in counts or situations you weren't comfortable in. The anxiety had crept back through him, knotting his stomach up in a fierce cramp. The desire to vomit was so ferocious that he was debating whether or not to give in when he'd finally heard her at the door.

He'd thrown a dark-blue T-shirt on on his way to the door. The plain, white block letters on the front inexplicably said, "No Problem, Barb!" It was an inevitable conversation with those who got close to him where the shirt originated and what it meant. Nobody, of course, had any idea. It was why, quite frankly, it was his favorite shirt.

The door provided an obstacle if only because he'd never stayed in an expensive hotel before. The complicated electronic lock eluded his means for a good minute before he finally got it to open. All at once he found her there, the crisp attire utterly professional, standing there. She smiled simply, greeting him.

"Mr. McCall, my name is Maxine Alexander and I'm your liason. Is the room fine? Mind if I come in?" She spoke with a crisp, professional hurry in her voice.

"Uh." He managed, only to extend a hand and gesture her on. "Yeah, it's, yeah come on in. I'm Jack McCall."

She slipped past him, striding crisply, and he closed the door. All at once the anxiety seemed shocked ferociously from his system, leaving instead only sharp surprise in its wake. She cut through the entryway into the living area, pushed a binder aside, and claimed a seat on the sofa.

"I know, Mr. McCall. Have you ever pitched in the Major Leagues before?"

"Jack." He said.

"What"

"Call me, Jack." She looked at him, brow arching some. "My dad's Mr. McCall."

She smiled at that, the first flicker of real humor he'd seen. It was fleeting.

"Alright. Jack. Have you ever pitched in the Major Leagues before?"

"No. Tomorrow's my first game."

She smiled again, this time more at his expense. Her eyes ticked more clearly at the room that surrounded her and the mass of opened, thoroughly appraising his efforts to study up.

"Well, I'm not here to coach you. I'm here to help get you what you need." She said, looking back to him.

"I'm sorry."

"I said..."

He cut her off, shaking his head with a faint smile. "I'm sorry, I said. You handle pitchers a lot?"

She nodded, her chin lifting some. "I handle most of the starting pitchers for the team, actually. I have all season."

"Then I'm sorry."

"Why is that, Mr. -uhm- Jack."

"Because," he said. "A lot of pitchers are fucking crazy."

She blinked only to suddenly and abruptly laugh at him, nodding suddenly as he got the better of her for the first time since she'd arrived. Jack smiled some, noticing for the very first time how tremendously pretty she was. He began, almost immediately then, to the small kitchen area.

"What about you?" She called after him.

"Definitely fucking crazy." He answered over a shoulder, taking a bottle of water from the stainless steel fridge. "Want something?"

"I'm fine, thank you."

"So, I'll be a boring assignment." He said, returning. He took a seat at the far end of the couch.

The great implications of the game waiting just a day from now had barely lingered, striking him only now as he claimed a seat amidst the evidence of his unrest. Ryan Howard was crushing an opposite field homerun in the picture directly infront of him on the coffee table. He reached over and turned it upside down.

 

[SiaKlynn]

Maxine Rose Alexander

“Boring?” A pleasant smile crosses Maxine’s lips as she shifts on the couch to face Jack McCall, she had pulled a pen and his file from her purse which is now laid across her lap. “I can handle boring.”

At least this one had a sense of humor and hadn’t tried to already hit on her perhaps she should drop in on her new pitchers unannounced more often – keep them on their toes. “I won’t take up much more of your time, I know you’re busy,” she glances up at the flat screen, “preparing for tomorrow. I simply wanted to introduce myself, ask a few questions and make sure you understand it is my job to help you become acquainted with the area. Think of me as your personal concierge. Now then…”

Glancing down at the file she pauses before listing a few questions, “I see Scott Alverez is your manager, he’s a nice guy. He’s asked that we find you an apartment are there any preferences when it comes to neighborhood, size, and number of rooms? Single story? I’ll take your preferences to a realtor and then I’ll weed through the losers so you don’t have to and then take you out to make the final decision, unless you want to trust me with choosing your living space.”

Tucking strands of hair behind her ear dark eyes framed by silver frame glasses regard Jack McCall for a moment, “If you need to know the best place eat, go have drinks, golf…whatever you need you give me a call.”
Reaching down into a small pocket on the side of her purse she pulls free a card, “This has my contact information. Call me day or night. I overwhelm you with social events quite yet.” A tug of a smile across her lips, “Maybe next week. Do you have any questions?”

 

[Light Ice]

"Uh." He said.

Uncertainty. It'd been striking him a lot lately. The humor helped to cover it, conceal what was otherwise very obvious. He knew very well that he was overwhelmed and terrified. His parents would have been able to tell in a few short minutes. In his mind he saw Ryan Howard taking his fastball and sending it 450 ft into the stands. He could hear the crowd turning hostile after he walked a man with runners in scoring position. And, in the depths of his thoughts, he could see John Russell's no-nonsense look as he took the ball from him and ended his day, and the stat of his career.

These, amidst other things, were the fears and concerns dominating his mind.

"Uh." He managed again.

Apartment? House? He considered her for a long moment before speaking, setting the water on the coffee table. An hour before he had to get himself to bed. Enough time, at least, to get this straight before their impromptu meeting must end. He reclaimed his seat and attempted to relax himself, looking her in the eyes with a faint, askew smile.

"Listen, I make the league minimum. I, uh, I don't need much. I might not even get to stay. Is it alright if I keep the hotel for a little, just..."

The words stopped coming. Uncertainty. No humor now, just pure uncertainty. Lifting a hand Jack scratched at his browline, a nervous gesture. A tick, as it were, that he couldn't conceal. All at once the girl beside him wasn't on his side. She was a stranger. Any attempt to lighten the nature of his predicament was now completely out of the question. He was about to pitch against the League's best offense on three-days rest and without a proper bullpen session. He was going to have a new catcher that'd never caught him before and he was in his arbitration year.

"Hey, come to the game tomorrow. You can have one of my tickets. After it's over we will both have a good idea what I'm in for. "

 

[SiaKlynn]

Maxine Rose Alexander

Maxine watches Jack as he stumbles over his words, watches as his thoughts struggle to form a coherent thought so he can at least answer one of her questions. The young pitcher stutters and stumbles over him tongue trying to make a decision. It takes everything in her not to smile at his expense, it would only make things worse and it would be unprofessional. Her job is make him feel at ease not send him off into a nervous breakdown over some simple living conditions. Leaning over she places her card on the table and offers an encouraging smile. It’s then that Jack finds the ability to string more than two together and what does he say?

"Hey, come to the game tomorrow. You can have one of my tickets. After it's over we will both have a good idea what I'm in for. "

Maxine’s smile falters slightly and while her first response is to decline the offer she knows that will only lead to questions, which might lead to her telling him how much she dislikes baseball and is only working for the Pirates at her uncle’s insistence. Since it’s not a day game she can’t use the excuse of school and if she makes up a false excuse she may damage their working relationship. Professionalism wins out and with a warm smile, “Alright, but you can save your ticket, I have no problem gaining access to the games.”

Closing the file folder and returning it to her bag she stands to her feet and slips the strap of the purse onto her shoulder. “I’ll leave you to continue your preparation and we’ll talk tomorrow after your first game. In the meantime I’ll browse some listings a hotel is no place to put down roots when you live out of one more than half the season. Trust me; you need a place to call your own. It was a pleasure to meet you, Jack.”