Playing The Hot Corner

Wet Sand – Red Hot Chili Peppers

“I’ll meet you at your place at, like, 6, okay? I have a few things to do,” I said, leaning in Joe’s passenger side window.

“Okay. Remember, Jake’s home tonight,” Joe reminded me.

“You’re not going to embarrass me again, are you?” I groaned. I used to have the biggest crush on Joe’s older brother, Jake, and Joe made fun of me all the time for it.

“Not tonight, I guess. I’ll see you at 6?” Joe asked, grinning.

“Yes, Joseph.”

“Okay, Jesse James Parker,” he shot back in retaliation to his full first name.

“Oh damn! You’re going to get it now, Joseph Patrick Mauer!” He laughed as I reached for him through the car that I wasn’t in. I could barely reach him, but he cringed anyway. Yeah, my name is Jesse James. Joe also makes fun of me for that.

“I know where you sleep. I’ll see you at 6, Joe.”

“Bye, Jess.”

I went back towards the school, watching for Charlie. I was just going to meet him for help with his physics homework too – apparently none of the baseball guys got physics – for two hours until I had to go home, get ready, and then go over to the Mauer’s for a barbeque.

“Jess?”

I turned around to see Charlie, his backpack slung low over his shoulder.

“Oh, hey, Charlie. Do you have your textbook?”

“Yeah, right here,” he said, pointing to his bag.

“All right. Let’s get going, then.”

A ways into the study session, Charlie turned to me, pointing at something in the textbook. “Okay, so this thing with angular velocity. I have no idea what’s going on.”

“Here. What you have to do is put it in terms that you use all the time. When you’re up to bat and you swing and the ball pops straight up -”

“That’s easy. I’ve swung under it and caught the bottom of the ball.”

“Exactly. The angle at which you hit the ball affects which way the ball goes. So if you hit the ball right in the middle, with the bat facing straight across the plate…”

“The ball would be a line drive right at the pitcher,” Charlie finished. I could see the understanding in his eyes.

“Right. So the equation combines everything and lets you predict your results. It goes like this.”

~

“Hey, guys,” I said, shutting the gate to the Mauer’s backyard behind me. I had gone home and changed into a pair of basketball shorts (that I had stolen from Joe) and an old practice jersey from when Joe and I had played for a summer team called the Renegades.

“Hey, Jess is here,” I heard Joe call.

“RAWR!” someone shouted, jumping on my back.

“Well, it’s good to see you too, Jake,” I grunted as I carried him into the yard.

“I missed you, baby sister.”

“I missed you too. Hi, Mrs. Mauer.”

“Hi, Jesse.” Joe’s mom always had a big smile for me whenever I saw her.

“So where were you?” Joe asked, putting a plate of steaks on the tray beside the grill.

“Helping someone else with physics. I swear, none of you baseball guys can get that subject.”

“Charlie?”

I looked over at him, sitting down at the patio table with a Coke in hand. “How did you know?”
He shrugged. “He talked to me about asking you for help. I told him you were good at science and stuff like that.”

The same feeling was coming from Joe that I had gotten from him the day before, but I still couldn’t place it. It bugged me that I couldn’t figure out what he was thinking, because usually I just knew.

Joe jumped as his phone started vibrating on the table.

“A little jumpy there, huh, Joe?”

He snatched the phone off the table, sticking his tongue out at me. His eyes suddenly widened and he ran off to one corner of the yard to open the phone and answer it.

“What’s that all about?” I asked Mrs. Mauer.

“I have no idea. Do you mind helping me shuck this corn?”

“Not at all. Hand it over.”

I shucked the corn and chatted with Mrs. Mauer, glancing over to Joe every few seconds. He was over there on the phone for a long time, and when he finally hung up and came back, he looked like he had gone into major shock.

“Joe, what happened?” I asked, a little panicked. I had rarely seen Joe like this.

“I’m not going to Florida,” he said, his voice almost completely stoic. “Well, not for college.”
Deep down, I knew. The guy had only struck out once his entire baseball season, he was the best catcher in the state, and had an amazing batting average. The Major Leagues had seen him and wanted him. I didn’t say anything.

“What, Joseph? What makes you say that?” his mom asked, obviously concerned.

“They want me in the Major League Draft,” he finally said, and it hit me how awesomely huge this was. My jaw dropped.

“Holy shit, Joe!” I shouted, jumping up. “That’s amazing!” He suddenly swept me up into his arms in his excitement, spinning me in a circle before setting me down. I looked at his face, and any trace of the gloomy emotion from before was gone. He had a huge smile now, and his eyes were lit up with joy.

The only thing was, now I knew. I was going to see a lot less of my best friend even sooner than I anticipated. Like, right after we graduated. I watched him celebrating with Jake, who had been 677th pick in the draft a few years ago but had been injured, and his mother, and couldn’t fight the tears that started making their way up to the surface. For a second I hated the Major Leagues – the Twins, the White Sox, all of it. It was taking my Joe away from me, and I resented it for that. Then I realized that it was giving Joe the opportunity of a lifetime. I may have to pay to ever see him again, but it was the only thing he ever wanted to go pro. So I forced back the tears and put a smile on my face, happy for my best friend.