sent a scout to a game.
Scouts had followed Tyler since his days in Little League,but this was different. The man hung around and pulled Tyler and his father aside after the game. “We want you, kid. We want you bad.” He pulled out a list of notes and assessments, names three pages long.
Tyler was at the top.
“He’s made his decision,” Tyler’s father told the man. “He’s committed to UCLA.”
“A commitment isn’t a contract, Mr. Ames.” The scout smiled. “You and I both know that.” He looked at Tyler. “If the deal’s what I think it’ll be, you should take it.” He pointed at Tyler as he walked off. “Isn’t that the point? Play baseball for money?”
As the season continued, the scout didn’t let up. A week after graduation, on the day Tyler was set to make a public announcement about playing for UCLA, the scout got word to him: the Reds were going to take him in the first few rounds.
He really was that good.
“The signing bonus better be in the high six figures,” his father told him. “Otherwise we have no deal.”
Tyler postponed the UCLA announcement and that night he called Sami at 11:11. “I might take it. I really might.”
“The draft?” She sounded worried. “Tyler, you wouldn’t start with the Reds. You know that.”
“Of course. But if they take me in the first few rounds it wouldn’t be long.”
“Yeah, but maybe you should go to college. Take the free education and let the pros draft you later. You’ll only get better.” Sami paused. “That’s what my grandfather said.”
Tyler hated the pressure. Everywhere he turned people wanted him to play for the Bruins, take the college route. Playit safe. But Tyler wanted a chance at the Bigs sooner than that. If they paid him enough, he could play a year in Billings and move straight up through the ranks. One or two years and he’d be making half a million dollars. He could buy Sami a ring and marry her while she was still at UCLA.
That would impress everyone, right?
When draft day came, Tyler and a bunch of his teammates gathered in his parents’ living room and waited. The first three rounds came and the next three went, and then another three and another. With each passing round, Tyler felt himself sink a little deeper into the sofa. Why had the Reds scout lied to him? He was about to call the coach at UCLA and tell them he was coming when the phone rang.
“Sorry, Tyler. Things got shaken up a bit at the last minute. We still want you, though. Big money if you take the offer.”
Sure enough, the Reds called out his name in the twelfth round. Tyler and his teammates whooped and hollered and celebrated. But the next day the details of the contract came to light. His signing bonus would be $100,000 with a starting salary of just $24,000 a year.
There were a dozen incentives built in—which was what caught Tyler’s eye. If he pitched half as well as he’d pitched in high school, he’d make six figures every year. Even before he reached the pros.
What happened next was the closest thing to war Tyler had ever known. He couldn’t think about it, couldn’t run through those details now. No pain pills were strong enough to dull the memories of what happened next, the fighting and fallout.
Tyler brought the train of memories to a halt. Enough. As he drifted off to sleep in his car to the sounds of the tide and the Blue Wahoos announcer calling another winning game, Tyler was no longer behind the wheel of his Dodge Charger. He wasn’t broken or homeless or out of money. He had no regrets, no sullied past, no failed dreams.
Rather, he was seventeen and sitting on the roof of a mansion in Northern California, the summer stars close enough to touch.
And Sami Dawson at his side.
Not until he woke up the next morning, the summer sun burning through the windshield and sweat dripping down his face, did Tyler realize the whole thing had been a dream. His arm screamed for relief and he cursed himself for letting
Scouts had followed Tyler since his days in Little League,but this was different. The man hung around and pulled Tyler and his father aside after the game. “We want you, kid. We want you bad.” He pulled out a list of notes and assessments, names three pages long.
Tyler was at the top.
“He’s made his decision,” Tyler’s father told the man. “He’s committed to UCLA.”
“A commitment isn’t a contract, Mr. Ames.” The scout smiled. “You and I both know that.” He looked at Tyler. “If the deal’s what I think it’ll be, you should take it.” He pointed at Tyler as he walked off. “Isn’t that the point? Play baseball for money?”
As the season continued, the scout didn’t let up. A week after graduation, on the day Tyler was set to make a public announcement about playing for UCLA, the scout got word to him: the Reds were going to take him in the first few rounds.
He really was that good.
“The signing bonus better be in the high six figures,” his father told him. “Otherwise we have no deal.”
Tyler postponed the UCLA announcement and that night he called Sami at 11:11. “I might take it. I really might.”
“The draft?” She sounded worried. “Tyler, you wouldn’t start with the Reds. You know that.”
“Of course. But if they take me in the first few rounds it wouldn’t be long.”
“Yeah, but maybe you should go to college. Take the free education and let the pros draft you later. You’ll only get better.” Sami paused. “That’s what my grandfather said.”
Tyler hated the pressure. Everywhere he turned people wanted him to play for the Bruins, take the college route. Playit safe. But Tyler wanted a chance at the Bigs sooner than that. If they paid him enough, he could play a year in Billings and move straight up through the ranks. One or two years and he’d be making half a million dollars. He could buy Sami a ring and marry her while she was still at UCLA.
That would impress everyone, right?
When draft day came, Tyler and a bunch of his teammates gathered in his parents’ living room and waited. The first three rounds came and the next three went, and then another three and another. With each passing round, Tyler felt himself sink a little deeper into the sofa. Why had the Reds scout lied to him? He was about to call the coach at UCLA and tell them he was coming when the phone rang.
“Sorry, Tyler. Things got shaken up a bit at the last minute. We still want you, though. Big money if you take the offer.”
Sure enough, the Reds called out his name in the twelfth round. Tyler and his teammates whooped and hollered and celebrated. But the next day the details of the contract came to light. His signing bonus would be $100,000 with a starting salary of just $24,000 a year.
There were a dozen incentives built in—which was what caught Tyler’s eye. If he pitched half as well as he’d pitched in high school, he’d make six figures every year. Even before he reached the pros.
What happened next was the closest thing to war Tyler had ever known. He couldn’t think about it, couldn’t run through those details now. No pain pills were strong enough to dull the memories of what happened next, the fighting and fallout.
Tyler brought the train of memories to a halt. Enough. As he drifted off to sleep in his car to the sounds of the tide and the Blue Wahoos announcer calling another winning game, Tyler was no longer behind the wheel of his Dodge Charger. He wasn’t broken or homeless or out of money. He had no regrets, no sullied past, no failed dreams.
Rather, he was seventeen and sitting on the roof of a mansion in Northern California, the summer stars close enough to touch.
And Sami Dawson at his side.
Not until he woke up the next morning, the summer sun burning through the windshield and sweat dripping down his face, did Tyler realize the whole thing had been a dream. His arm screamed for relief and he cursed himself for letting
Similar Books
