embrace the extras that come with your position on campus. And when it becomes apparent your career might take you further than college, your friend count doubles because even if you fail at your attempt at the majors, people love nothing more than being able to drop your name into party-time conversation and talk about how they shared beers or a class with you way-back-when.”
She frowns. “Sounds like people are assholes.”
“Maybe, but if you do make it, they’re also you’re biggest fans, and that can’t hurt in a world where less than one percent of most college players ever get to go.”
“What did you do when you weren’t playing baseball?”
“Train to play baseball,” I say. “People call baseball players lazy, which is partly true because our bodies don’t take the daily beating that a football player does, so a few beers after a game aren’t going to kill our recovery. But,” I add, “we also have longer training year round, with expectations that most people don’t see.”
“Like…”
“Like, I went into college weighing one hundred and eighty-four pounds with around thirteen percent body fat. At the end of my freshman year, I weighed just over two hundred pounds with eleven percent body fat. It’s only gotten better from there. Outfielders and infielders lift all season, and all of us conditioned from the start of the school year through the start of the season and work to play well into June and make it to Nebraska. And then we play summer ball.”
“So I was really only half right when I called you lazy the first time we met.”
“With baseball, I was never lazy. With girls… you weren’t wrong,” I say again, and her smile is triumphant. “I’ll admit that after a game, when frequenting an establishment that served alcohol, if I met a girl, a conversation may have gone something like ‘Hey, I’m Jake,’ to which she would respond, ‘OMG like in Twilight?’ We’d then discuss the mythical wolf creature and his many flaws — none of which I possessed, of course — and then girl, whose name I’ve most likely forgotten by this point in the conversation, would ask what frat I was in, to which I would promptly reply , ‘I’m not in a frat. I play baseball.’” My grin is back as the memories of my first year swarm through me. “Things got infinitely easier and more guaranteed after I dropped that tidbit of information.”
“Ah, one of the many perks of being an athlete.”
“Other than per diem, I’m pretty sure it’s the biggest one.”
“Per diem?” she asks.
“Like grocery money — the payment you receive for being an athlete on away trips and vacation times that you have to stay on campus. Meal money, but for those programs who are big enough, or supported enough, it can be excessive.”
She stares at me for a second and then laughs and sips her coffee. “One last question.”
“Shoot.”
“If you were having such an easy time finding females ready to spend the night with you while someone else footed the bill, why did you come here? I’m guessing they had to honor your scholarship, at the very least, and I know for a fact that a broken, dark soul is almost more appealing to girls than a happy one.”
“Is that right?”
“Yeah, bitches be crazy,” she says and I smile again. “Seriously, they think they can fix you and so they sleep with you thinking you’ll let them try.”
I remember my last few months at school, the drunken haze I walked around in, the
She frowns. “Sounds like people are assholes.”
“Maybe, but if you do make it, they’re also you’re biggest fans, and that can’t hurt in a world where less than one percent of most college players ever get to go.”
“What did you do when you weren’t playing baseball?”
“Train to play baseball,” I say. “People call baseball players lazy, which is partly true because our bodies don’t take the daily beating that a football player does, so a few beers after a game aren’t going to kill our recovery. But,” I add, “we also have longer training year round, with expectations that most people don’t see.”
“Like…”
“Like, I went into college weighing one hundred and eighty-four pounds with around thirteen percent body fat. At the end of my freshman year, I weighed just over two hundred pounds with eleven percent body fat. It’s only gotten better from there. Outfielders and infielders lift all season, and all of us conditioned from the start of the school year through the start of the season and work to play well into June and make it to Nebraska. And then we play summer ball.”
“So I was really only half right when I called you lazy the first time we met.”
“With baseball, I was never lazy. With girls… you weren’t wrong,” I say again, and her smile is triumphant. “I’ll admit that after a game, when frequenting an establishment that served alcohol, if I met a girl, a conversation may have gone something like ‘Hey, I’m Jake,’ to which she would respond, ‘OMG like in Twilight?’ We’d then discuss the mythical wolf creature and his many flaws — none of which I possessed, of course — and then girl, whose name I’ve most likely forgotten by this point in the conversation, would ask what frat I was in, to which I would promptly reply , ‘I’m not in a frat. I play baseball.’” My grin is back as the memories of my first year swarm through me. “Things got infinitely easier and more guaranteed after I dropped that tidbit of information.”
“Ah, one of the many perks of being an athlete.”
“Other than per diem, I’m pretty sure it’s the biggest one.”
“Per diem?” she asks.
“Like grocery money — the payment you receive for being an athlete on away trips and vacation times that you have to stay on campus. Meal money, but for those programs who are big enough, or supported enough, it can be excessive.”
She stares at me for a second and then laughs and sips her coffee. “One last question.”
“Shoot.”
“If you were having such an easy time finding females ready to spend the night with you while someone else footed the bill, why did you come here? I’m guessing they had to honor your scholarship, at the very least, and I know for a fact that a broken, dark soul is almost more appealing to girls than a happy one.”
“Is that right?”
“Yeah, bitches be crazy,” she says and I smile again. “Seriously, they think they can fix you and so they sleep with you thinking you’ll let them try.”
I remember my last few months at school, the drunken haze I walked around in, the
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