Brother's Teammate

Chapter 1

Roger's Center was empty as I walked down the cemented halls, and saw all the closed concessions. It was so quiet that you could hear the lights buzzing and the light taps from my TOMS on the concrete ground. Nobody except for the janitors were roaming the hall. It was the calm before the storm. Soon thousands of people, fans, will be roaming the halls, and I'll be in the dugout.

Every game I sit in the dugout with everyone. I talk with the same people, watch the same game, and listen to the same fans scream as the fan favourites hit the ball out into the crowds. I  come up with batting orders, and help with trades. I sit and do piles of paper work. It was repetitive. It was a routine.

It didn't matter whether I was happy doing what I was doing. It didn't matter if I got along with the men on the team, the men, who were more so boys then men. The men who dedicated every minute of their lives to baseball, barely stopping for a minute for their own lives. Who threw away relationships, friendships, to follow their dreams, just to be treated like objects, getting traded for another person, or bought with 10 million dollars. To spend 5 months following through the same motions of the game.

As I make my way down the level 100 stairs to the field, I'm helped over the gate onto the field by the one, the only, Kevin Pillar, or Superman as people call him. Or as I call him, my big brother. My brother who is 6 years older than I, who spends his day at a ball field, and if he's not here, he is with his wife and son. The brother, who I only ever get to talk to, or spend time with because I am the co-manager to his team.

I walk by his side as he takes me through the dugout, into the tunnels under, what soon will be thousands of fans, that are made of cement as well. I say hi to everyone we pass, whether it is a manager, janitor, or player. Whether they are my best friend, or an acquaintance. Because in the end, it doesn't matter anyways. As soon as I decided that it's time to leave, and pursue something else, they will forget about me. They see so many faces, that in the end, and at the end of the day, I won't matter to them. They won't remember the time that they all slept at my house because they were too drunk to drive, or that I lived right next to them.

My brother is overly protective, yet a distracted prick. Who tells me I can't have a boyfriend until he meets the guy, but blindly doesn't notice when I'm with a new boy. Who tells me that I can't leave his sight, but doesn't notice that I stopped to tie my shoe as he continues walking. It's maddening. He claims he cares for me, yet he hardly notices me. He fails to notice me until I get close with his teammates. As soon as I so little as high five one of his teammates, he accuses me of liking one of them.

"You can't prevent me from having feelings," I snapped, as he critiqued the way I looked at one of the players I walked past.

"Sure I can," he snapped back.

"No, you can't. If I like Devin Travis, I like him. I'm not saying that I like him, but there is no way you can make me stop liking the person I like."

He glared at me as we entered the clubhouse. I was quickly pushed back out the door by Kevin, as Josh Donaldson had nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist. I lost my balance, and hit the floor hard. He overreacts.

"Are you for real?" I asked him, through gridded teeth.

"Yes, you don't need to be seeing that," he said, as I got up.

"Kev, she's like my best friend. It doesn't matter if she sees me in a towel or not," Josh said from the door.

"Yes, it does," he snapped back at him.

"I'm fucking 21 years old, give me a break," I said, louder than I meant to. "And it's not like I'm going to sit in there and stare at everyone who walks past in a towel."

Kevin glared at me. He hated when I talked back to him. He has acted like this ever since our dad left mum when I was 18. He had made it to the MLB, and I was left at home in West Hills, California. From that day, my own mother, blamed me for my dad leaving. She blamed it on the fact the I never completed high school, and that I wasn't perfect enough for him. The day that Kevin told me to come move down to Toronto, where he got me a job, as Co-Manager of the Blue Jay, and I was able to buy myself an apartment, was the best day of my life.

How he managed to get me a job as co-manager? I don't know. He knew that had been my dream, to manage a baseball team. I liked the idea of it all. Helping a team grow, and sculpt it into a winner. But the fact that I never graduated, and didn't have any kind of a university degree. It never made sense to me that he managed to pull this off. He wouldn't tell me either.

"It isn't professional," he said, crossing his arms.

"Then it isn't professional for Gibbons to be in there either," I shot back.

"But you're a girl," he shot back, and I was instantly offended.

"You know what? You can go fuck yourself," I snapped.

I turned and walked down the hall. I hated that he always said that I couldn't do this or that because I was a girl. It made me think that I wasn't capable of anything that a guy is. Being in the clubhouse with the players being in their towels never phases me, and it has never phased any of them. It hasn't phased anyone except for Kevin.

About two minutes of me walking down the hall, I heard rapid footsteps behind me, running. I didn't know who it was, but I hoped they would just pass me. I just wanted to be alone until I absolutely had to go to the clubhouse. I was just so mad at that moment.

"Hey Jack," I heard a familiar voice call as they got closer. I let a small smile hit my lips.

I turned and saw Josh running down the hall, still with a towel wrapped around his waist. I raised my eyebrows at him as I looked at the man standing in front of me. Some days I wonder how sane he is, or if he actually is insane. But he truly was my best friend. Nobody on the team could compare to him. He is the one I talk to when I need someone to talk to.

"What are you doing?" I asked, with a chuckle.

"Rebelling against your brothers demands," he laughed loudly.

"Well, Mr.MVP, go get dressed," I shook my head, as I started walking back to the clubhouse with him.

When we walked into the clubhouse everyone was dressed. Everyone except Josh. As he went to change, Gibbons and I explained the batting line up for tonight's game. We were playing the Cleveland Indians, who haven't been beat in 12 games. I wanted to make sure that they didn't win anymore.