Based on my 1st Prize Winner for Best Screenplay at the 2009 Rhode Island International Film Festival.
"Brokeback Mountain" meets "Bull Durham". Brad Hawley realizes his dream of playing professional baseball when the New Orleans Breakers draft him...
Alan Hawley sat at his desk, typing away on his computer, trying to finish up a legal brief he was preparing. He was bleary-eyed, in need of a good night's sleep when his cell phone rang. He looked at the caller ID -- It was Brad. Alan seriously considered letting it go to voice mail, but he elected to answer. "Brad." He spoke to Brad with all the enthusiasm he'd give to a stranger on the street.
Brad paced his motel room in Springfield. He, too, could use a good night's sleep, but that hasn't happened since he was outed. He was still upset from what had happened earlier in the evening -- the homophobic slurs, and the "D" batteries hurled at him from an ignorant fan in the stands. He'd gotten texts from his mom and brother to see if he was OK. Got one from Taylor, too, who gave up on calling Brad, who wouldn't return his calls.
He received nothing from his dad -- the one person he needed to hear from the most.
Steven Chase and other members of the Wolves were at the Roundhouse a nearby bar that was the unofficial hangout for the visiting teams, winding down from the loss to the Springfield Falcons. He was all alone, and hoped his father had calmed down enough. He needed someone to talk to. "Hey, Dad. What's up?"
"Oh, uh, getting some work in." It was immediately clear that Alan was unable to warm up to Brad. "Polishing this legal brief for tomorrow. You know how it is."
Brad was teary-eyed and barely audible. "Yeah."
There was a long awkward silence. "So, uh, what's up?"
"Hmm? Nah. I, uh, I haven't heard from you."
"Yeah, well, been busy, lots of meetings."
No matter how busy Alan Hawley was, he always managed to sneak away for a moment to text Brad and Jeff -- without fail. Prior to Brad's outing, the texts ran into the dozens per day -- always looking for details about life as a professional baseball player. Brad was happy to provide them. Deb Hawley was his Number 1 fan. Alan and Jeff were Numbers 2 and 2A.
"Right." Brad knew he was being blown off. There was more uncomfortable silence.
"Look, Brad, I gotta get this brief done. OK? We'll talk soon." Alan disconnected his cell before Brad could even say goodbye. He slid the phone to the side and rubbed the bridge of his nose.
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Brad tossed his phone on the bed, teary-eyed. "Yeah, sure."
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