Mayfield Titans

CHAPTER 10

THE MAYFIELD BASEBALL CLUB

 

WEDNESDAY, SEPTEMBER 10

 

 

 

Marty lay naked on his hotel bed chatting with his husband, Rich, on the phone. He was playing with his very hard cock, imagining what he could be doing to Rich if he were home instead of in a hotel, albeit a luxury hotel, in Oakland.

 

“Are you going to get me off?” Marty asked. “I need some of your hot, sexy talk.”

 

“Even after that tough loss to the A’s?”

 

“Tough loss to the fucking Athletics, if it’s all the same to you.” The A’s had scored three runs in the bottom of the ninth for a 6-5 win, giving the A’s a four-game lead in the American League West with 14 games remaining for the Mariners. The loss also kept the Mariners a game back in the AL Wild Card race.

 

“Yep, it was a very tough loss,” Rich said. “I can tell from your wording how pissed you are.”

 

“You mean because I called them the fucking Athletics? That’s what I always call them, win or lose.”

 

“No, you always call them the fucking A’s—you only call them call the Athletics when you’re really pissed at them. It’s like my parents calling me Richard when they were pissed at me.”

 

“Either way, you can make my life easier by being your hottest, sexiest self for me.”

 

“Want to crank up your computer and get a video of my sexy bod?”

 

“What I want to do is close my eyes while you talk and imagine your hot cock pounding my helpless ass.” Marty started jerking himself harder. “Fuck, I’m gonna cum just thinking about what you’re going to say to make me cum. Maybe the cum will wipe all the green and gold from my head.” The Athletics’ team colors were green and gold.

 

Marty’s thoughts were suddenly interrupted by a knock on his door. “Who the fuck is that?” he mumbled.

 

 “Did you order room service and forget you did it? You’ve done that before when your mind’s been blown.”

 

“It happens more often after my dick’s been blown. But, no room service—I ate with some of the guys in the bar.” A knock sounded again. “I’m gonna put something on and see who the fuck it is. I’ll call you right back, and you better still be sexy and naked when I call.”

 

“Cross my heart.”

 

Marty pulled on the boxer briefs draped on the chair at the desk. He could see that the underwear did little to hide his erection, but he didn’t care since chances were the mystery visitor was probably a teammate. If it wasn’t, he could search for his robe in the closet.  He went to the door just as a third knock sounded. “Marty are you in there?”

 

Marty recognized the voice as Wade Whalen’s, one of his teammates, and unlocked and opened the door. “What’s going on?” Marty asked, trying to be polite. As far as Marty was concerned, Wade was the Mariners’ resident asshole and homophobe.

 

“Can I come in a minute? I need your help with something,” Wade asked contritely.

 

Marty eyed Wade, who was wearing a hotel bathrobe that was open at the top. Wade’s exposed chest and legs caused Marty to wonder if Wade was wearing anything underneath the bathrobe. He noticed that Wade was giving him a quick looking over.

 

Marty stepped aside and waved Wade through the door. “Yeah, sure, come in.” Marty could smell alcohol on his teammate’s breath, which made him feel uncomfortable.  Marty thought it was ironic that he was greeting his homophobic teammate wearing nothing but a pair of boxer shorts, which did little to hide the fact he still had an erection.

 

Wade obviously noted Marty’s condition, but said nothing. He sat in the desk chair - a slight smile crossed his lips as he noted the brown teddy bear sitting on the desk.

 

Marty sat on his king size bed. “What can I do for you, Wade?”

 

Wade answered the question with a question. “Do you always answer the door sporting an erection?”

 

“My husband and I were having a nice chat on the phone and I wanted to stop your pounding as quick as I could. Sorry if it offends you, but you did come at a pretty late hour. Ah, but it is starting to deflate.” Marty wasn’t sorry at all—he was rather enjoying putting on a show for the arrogant twit. He figured their relationship couldn’t get much worse than it already was.

 

“Well, I’m not sure how to say this, so I’ll do as I usually do and not beat around the bush. To put it bluntly, I think you and I may have the same problem.”

 

“Alcohol?” Marty couldn’t think of any other kind of problem they could have in common. If Wade had come to his room to discuss alcohol problems, Marty was more than ready to help, no matter how much he disliked him.

 

Wade shook his head. “Nope. Being gay.”

 

“Say what?”

 

“What if I said I find you incredibly attractive?” He pointed to the bulge in Marty’s briefs. “Not to mention very sexy.” Somehow, Wade “accidentally” let his robe slide open even more, exposing his surprisingly hairless torso down to his pubic hairs.

 

Marty’s cock, which had gone down to a semi-erection, suddenly shot back up to full hard. He didn’t know how to react to what Wade had just revealed, so he decided to see exactly where Wade was coming from. “I thought you were happily married.”

 

“I thought I was, too. But, well, I’m learning that what I’ve been hiding since I was in junior high is, well, it’s getting in my way. Mary and I are having, well, problems being intimate. I’m twenty-eight. I should be in my prime. But I keep thinking of guys. I don’t know what to do. I need some help. I need to get out of the spot I’m in before kids become a part of my life—not that my current sex life is conducive to becoming a parent.”

 

“Well, first, I have to say we don’t share a problem.”

 

“I thought you were gay.”

 

“I am, but I don’t consider that a problem. I’m a happily married gay man who likes who he is. So, being gay is not a problem, it is a part of who I am. To be honest, Wade, I don’t think I can help you.”

 

“What you’re saying is that if it was alcohol you could help?”

 

“I know solutions for that. I don’t know of any realistic solutions for being gay. I can help people to stop drinking, but I can’t help anybody to stop being gay. What made you decide to tell me about this?”

 

“I’ve thought about it from the moment you were signed after the draft. And as you got closer to being called up, I wanted to tell you while at the same time I didn’t. I guess it’s called a conflict of emotions. I decided that the best way to deal with the conflict was to treat you like shit so I wouldn’t make a rash decision.”  

 

Marty raised his eyebrows when he saw the tip of Wade’s hard cock peeking out of the opening in his robe. Marty could see he was good sized.

 

“Have you ever had relations with a guy?”

 

“Not since my freshman year in college. It was then I decided I had to quit playing around with guys before people thought I was gay. A month later I met Mary and pursued her like she was the last female on Earth. Don’t get me wrong, she’s a wonderful woman, a great wife, and wants to be a mom real bad. That makes this conflict even rougher.”

 

“But a guy hasn’t tempted you since you were in college?”

 

Wade took a deep breath and said, “Okay, I lied. I promise I won’t do it again. This year, when we were in New York playing the Yanks, I got a little drunk and I picked up a guy at a bar and I gave him a blow job.” Marty thought Wade looked like he was fighting tears. “It wasn’t a great experience, but, well, it didn’t stop me from being turned on by men. And when you arrived from Tacoma, well, I was immediately jealous of your husband, another reason I acted like an asshole. Anyway, if you can’t help me, where do I get help?”

 

“I have what I think will help you.” Marty rose from his bed and went to the room’s closet, his cock so stiff and hard it pushed the waistband of his underwear out so that the head was now partially exposed. He thought for a moment about grabbing his robe and covering his crotch but elected not to. This is who I am, he thought, and Wade knows this is who I am. If he doesn’t like it, he can leave.

 

He pulled his wallet out of his pants and took a business card out of it, all the while thinking of how Wade had come to his room naked except for his almost open robe, so he didn’t have anything to bitch about when it came to exposed cocks. He turned and handed the card to Wade, whose crotch was now fully exposed.

 

Marty could see Wade staring at his crotch, which was now on display in front of Wade’s face, the top of his erection fully visible. Well, he showed me his, I guess I’ll show him mine, Marty thought. After all, we’ve both seen each other naked in the locker room.

 

He yanked his underpants down until they were situated below his balls. “Is this what you wanted to see?”

 

Wade nodded. “You’re beautiful. And don’t worry, I’m not expecting sex.” Which broke Wade’s promise not to lie again. “I just, I just needed to see you, the only openly gay player in baseball, just like you are, or even—”

 

“—even like this?” Marty said as he pulled his underpants all the way down and stepped out of them. Wade’s expression had changed from fear to lust. He stood, pulled off his robe, and stood naked in front of Marty, his almost eight-inch erection standing proudly at attention. “Damn, dude, that is an awesome piece of meat.”

 

“Mary thinks so, too.” Wade placed his right hand around Marty’s seven inches and planted a kiss on Marty’s lips. It was the first time he’d kissed a male since he was eighteen but was something he’d done often in junior and senior high.

 

The two men fondled each other and traded tongue until Marty broke the kiss. “Wow, you do know how to kiss,” he said, breathlessly.

 

“You’re not bad yourself.” Both men were totally turned on and leaking copious amounts of precum. “If we don’t stop, I’m gonna be cumming all over you.”

 

“Which is what you came in wanting to do, isn’t it? Don’t tell me otherwise.”

 

“Yeah, but not like this. Not something just out of the blue—the homophobic gay man and the married gay man coupling. It isn’t right.”

 

“No, it isn’t what we want to do, at least right now.” Wade noted that Marty appeared to have left the door open for something in the future.

 

 “Now as for that help you wanted, which I know wasn’t help on how to kiss or how to fondle a man’s cock, here is some information on the Rainbow Center in Seattle. Give them a call and tell them your story. They will know where you can go for help. But, let me tell you, if you’re truly gay, you may end up having to either leave your marriage or spend your life living a lie.”  

 

Wade took the card. “Thanks, Marty, I’ll call them when we get back home.”  He closed his robe and started for the door, stopped, and turned around. “I’m sorry I gave you so much shit. I guess I thought if I gave you grief for being gay, it would make me look like a real heterosexual stud.”

 

“Apology acknowledged. Don’t worry about what happened. Do what you can to move forward. I might not know the solutions, but I am available for you to talk to anytime you need to talk. But no sex.”

 

“Thanks. I don’t deserve this.”

 

Yes, you do. You were willing to seek help, which is the beginning of finding any solution.”

 

“Marty, I’ve got so many questions...”

 

“Yeah I know. But this is not the time. Now, we have a big game tomorrow, let’s get our asses to bed. And, truth be told, I almost wish we were getting them into the same bed.”

 

“Thanks, I appreciate hearing that. The feeling is mutual.”

 

Wade reached for the handle to open the door and leave the room, but Marty stopped him. “Hey, Wade.”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Just so you know - everything you said in this room stays in this room.”

 

Wade wanted more than anything to hold Marty and kiss him again - instead he nodded and smiled. “Thanks, Marty.”

 

Wade Whalen took a deep breath and left the room wishing he was able to do something about the feelings he had for the stud he had just talked to.

 

Marty flopped down on his bed and dialed Rich’s number. This was a story his husband would surely not believe. His husband believed it and loved it, especially considering who the player was. Marty’s story left Rich feeling hot and sexy and Marty was already totally turned on. It didn’t take Rich long to get Marty off.

 

“Do you think he’ll be up for a three way?” Rich asked with mock seriousness.

 

“When the hell did you get such a wild dirty mind?” Marty asked with a laugh. “You’re supposed to be the calm one of the two of us.”

 

“I’ve been like that ever since you and me had that three way with Mikey back in Tacoma.” Mikey was Rich’s brother, who was also gay. He was in college and engaged to the manager of a high-end restaurant.

 

“I miss you, my love,” Marty whispered.

 

“I miss you, too.”

 

“I’ll be home in a few days. I love you. Sleep good.”

 

“I love you, too. Good luck in tomorrow’s game.”

 

After the long, productive chat with his husband, Marty got under his bed covers, ready for sleep. He thought about how grateful he was that he had been able to figure out who he was when he was a kid. He was grateful that his experiences as a tween, a young teen, and a high school kid, allowed him to be able to accept himself as a gay man and love another man the way he loved Rich.

 

A few doors down the hall, the teammate Marty had just counseled brushed his teeth and lay naked on his bed. His long thick cock was so hard it ached. The pressures of orgasm that had been building in Wade could no longer be denied. With visions of Marty swirling through his head, he wrapped his fist around his cock. It only took a few strokes and Wade felt his body stiffen, his eyes lock shut, and his balls pull tight against his shaft. He trembled with the feeling of release as rope after rope of thick cum spurted from his plow shaped cockhead. Gasping for breath, he squeezed a final dribble from his slit.

 

As he came back to earth, Wade Whalen realized he was feeling grateful - grateful that his teammate had been willing to talk with him and had said what he said. Marty’s words about “living a lie” rang in his ears. Wade knew he faced a tough journey but he had taken the first step - a beginning that left him hopeful that eventually he would be able to accept himself as a gay man and maybe even love another man the way he knew Marty loved Rich.  He also knew that the next time he joined Marty in the dugout and out on the field he would have a whole different kind of feeling toward him.

 

Just before falling asleep, Wade recalled noticing the brown teddy bear sitting on the desk in Marty’s room.  He wasn’t sure why it was there, but it reminded him of Barnaby, the stuffed animal he had treasured as a young boy.  He didn’t know what had ever happened to Barnaby nor could he remember the last time he had seen him, but he made a mental note to see if, just maybe, he could find him the next time he was at his parents’ house.

 

 

A few hundred miles north, the boy Marty had been mentoring forgot to think about what he was grateful for as he bedded down. Instead, he fought adolescent angst. He knew he was gay, he was sure he loved his boyfriend, and yet he was afraid to be found out by anyone other than his friends and family. The two older boys at the fair had told him to be proud of who he was. Aiden thought it would be hard to do that when he wasn’t always sure about who he was.

 

<THURSDAY, SEPTEMBER 11>

 

Aiden’s soccer practice was cancelled because Coach Bill was sick.  He did have homework and he was determined to get right to it when he got home. The Mayfield Baseball Club was having its monthly meeting and he planned to be there. With the summer season finished, there would be little new business to discuss. If there were enough interested baseball players available for a fall league, the board voted at the April meeting to support a team for high school players. There were enough players for a team of freshmen and sophomores.

 

This meeting, which was being held at the community center, was the first full membership meeting since the June elections. Of the half-dozen summer teams plus the fall team, the Yard Goats had the most representation. Aiden had heard his dads discuss how the interest in the baseball club by the players seemed to be on the decline, especially at the high school level.

 

“I get the impression that many of the players are just happy to be playing baseball and expect the adults to take charge,” Larry had told Aiden and Gordy during a discussion one summer evening when Gordy spent the night. “Even with Aiden’s dad and me encouraging participation, the Club is met with indifference by middle school students, freshman, and sophomores. Juniors and seniors were more active because Phil and I had spent two years preaching responsibility to them. The baseball program in Mayfield is unique in that the players are in charge and for it to be successful the players have to continue to take ownership and provide leadership.”

 

“Marty said that when he was in middle school it was called the Go To State Team,” Aiden commented. “He said Eric and Noah and a bunch of other middle school players thought the adults weren’t interested in having kick ass teams, so the kids took over. It all sounds weird to me, but I guess it worked.”

 

“Two State Championships during Eric and Noah’s high school years and one more a couple of years later says that their plan wasn’t weird at all. And your mentor, Marty, was a huge factor in that success, even though he graduated after we won the first title.” Larry had been the Mayfield High School head coach for all three championships.

 

“Maybe it’s time for us to step up,” Aiden said. “I know we’re just going to be in seventh grade, but that’s where Noah and Eric and them were when they stepped up.”

 

“I concur,” Gordy said, proud of his use of a new word.

 

The boys agreed that it was too late to run for a board position, but there was no reason they couldn’t get involved in planning committees and the like. That way, when elections were held the following spring, they could show the older boys how active they were and how interested they were in getting even more involved. One good sign was that for the first time in four years a middle school player had been elected to the board—Trent Hallion, an eighth grader.

 

Aiden told Gordy that while he was interested in helping the Club, he was not interested in serving on the board. “I think you would be perfect for that job,” Aiden told his best friend. One reason Aiden didn’t want to hold an elected board position was the fact that he was the son of the head baseball coach at the high school. He was afraid other players would resent his position and think it would make him feel privileged.

 

He had discussed his feelings with Marty, who disagreed. “You have enough integrity to make sure that never happens,” Marty told him, “and I think everybody knows it.” Aiden did not broach the subject with his father.

 

“I think it’s the opposite.”

 

And now Aiden and Gordy were sitting at the first Mayfield Baseball Club meeting of the new school year wondering how they could get active. One way for that to happen had been handed to them by Glenn Abbot, a sophomore, who had been elected to the board in June. He had been an outfielder on the JV level summer league team. He was an average player but was well-liked by the high school players. He had to resign after the summer season ended, however, because his parents had divorced, and he would be moving with his mother to Arkansas.  His resignation left an opening on the board which would be filled at the start of the meeting.

 

Aiden, Gordy, and Trent talked about what high school players would be running for the position. Five minutes before the meeting was scheduled to start, they counted only eight high school players, outside of the current officers and board members, in the audience—that was out of thirty-five players in the program. It meant there wouldn’t be much of a field to choose candidates from. The three boys agreed that Andy Hoffman was the best candidate in the audience and one of the best in the entire baseball program. Andy was a sophomore who pitched and played in the middle infield. He had arguably been best player on the freshman team. On top of his playing prowess, he was an honor roll student and a great person. 

 

Aiden, Gordy, Miles, Mason, Lance, Lenny, Muddy, and Scott Keller were the Yard Goat players attending the meeting. Kalie, who was still eligible to be a member of the club sat with the group.  

 

A few minutes before the meeting started, four more Goats made an appearance: Mac Dixon, Russell, Yonder Sanchez, and Roger. Barry Bender was with them, as well.  Mac and Russell made a noisy entrance to make sure everyone was aware of their presence.

 

“What are those assholes doing here?” Mason asked.

 

“Mason, be nice,” Miles chided his friend.

 

“I’m just saying.”

 

Mark Elder, who was the club president, banged his gavel on the table and brought the meeting to order at precisely seven o’clock. Mark greeted the audience and asked the group to stand for the Pledge of Allegiance. After the Pledge, Mark went through the opening nuts and bolts. Peter Astor, who was the new club secretary, read the minutes, and then the new treasurer, David Fitzgerald, gave the treasurer’s report.

 

During the reports, Aiden made a quick scan of the meeting room and counted a total of fifteen middle school players and fourteen high school players in attendance. He also counted ten adults, including his dads. Adults could not vote in the club’s general elections, although three adults served on the club’s board and could vote on board business. 

 

Next, Mark introduced Jackson Hallion, the vice president, and the board members. The students were Sammy Bednarzyk, Anthony Jefferson, and Trent Hallion. The adults were Ben Cook, James Hallion, and Aaron Lansing. Ben was the owner of Ben’s Hardware and Hunting supplies, James was the father of Jackson and Trent, and Aaron was Gordy’s father.

 

Finally, he introduced George Bednarzyk, the club’s Administrator and Seth McCall the Financial Officer. While those were both volunteer positions, George and Seth were hired by the board for two-year terms. One of the terms expired each year, but they were renewable.

 

Once Mark finished the introductions, the chairs of three of the club’s committees presented their reports. When they finished, Mark pointed out that the next item on the agenda was the election for the vacant board position. Mark reminded the audience that club by-laws stated that four of the seven at-large board members had to be active players, which meant they would be electing a student. He then called for nominations.

 

Barry Bender raised his hand and Mark called on him. “I nominate Mac Dixon,” he called out proudly.

 

“Oh yeah, party boy,” Russell piped up, evoking some laughs from his friends and a few guffaws from the high schoolers. “I second the nomination.”

 

“A nomination does not require a second,” Mark intoned. He had worked hard studying Roberts Rules to prepare himself for the meeting.

 

“Boring,” came a voice from the back of the room. “I third the nomination.” Everyone turned to see whose voice it was. It turned out to be Zane Davidson.

 

“How the did he get in here?” Gordy whispered.

 

“Damned if I know,” Aiden replied. “He musta snuck in during the reports.”

 

As soon as Zane Davidson saw that he was the center of attention, he grinned and waved. As Mark pounded his gavel on the table and asked for order, Aiden saw that Zane was busily chomping on a big wad of gum and wondered if the sophomore catcher was trying to cover up the smell of alcohol on his breath. It wouldn’t be the first time.

 

“Zane, if you interrupt the meeting one more time, I’ll ask you to leave, which means you won’t get to vote,” Mark scolded.

 

“Whatever,” Zane muttered.

 

“Mac Dixon on the board? No way,” Gordy muttered. He raised his hand and stood when Mark called on him. “I nominate Aiden Miller.”

 

“Say what?” Aiden yelped in surprise. Gordy hadn’t said a word to him about this. He glared at his friend who made a calming gesture with his hand. “I’ll explain later,” he whispered. Aiden had complete trust in his best friend and simply nodded.

 

“Are you declining the nomination, Aiden?” Mark asked. The nominating process was not going anywhere near how he had planned. He thought that Andy’s best friend, Jeff Swenson, would nominate Andy Hoffman and Andy would run unopposed. At least that was how it had all worked out in the lunchroom at school.

 

While Aiden wanted to decline, he accepted the nomination without enthusiasm.

 

Mark looked at Andy and Jeff who were sitting together. Come on Jeff, get off your ass and nominate Andy, Mark thought. Andy nodded and Jeff finally stood up. “I nominate Andy Hoffman,” he announced.

 

After Andy accepted his nomination, Mark asked if there were any more nominations, maintaining the proper format even though he already knew the answer. When nobody spoke, Mark declared that the nominations were closed.

 

Mark then said each of the nominees could give a speech telling why he should be elected. He chose Mac to give the first speech, since he had the least seniority of the three nominees.

 

“I’m serious about parties,” Mac said. “This meeting is boring and if I don’t win, I know I’m not coming back to any more meetings. We should be meeting at the Bear and having pizza and shit and meeting at each other’s houses on Friday or something just to have fun. If we really party hearty everybody from sixth graders to seniors will all be buddies and we can make these boring meetings exciting.”

 

Zane wanted to yell out that there should be a beer keg at every meeting, but there were too many adults in the room, plus he didn’t want to be kicked out before he had a chance to vote for Mac. Mac was thinking along the lines of Zane, especially where the weekends were concerned. The players who get drunk together play together and have interesting meetings together.

 

“I guess that’s all I have,” Mac said, and he sat down.

 

Aiden was next. While Mac was busy sounding stupid, Aiden was trying to figure out what to say. When his turn came, he stood up and hoped the right words would come out of his mouth. He felt like he was on the pitcher’s mound ready to deliver a 3-2 pitch to the batter with two outs and the bases loaded in a one-run game. It was time for his best pitch.

 

He started to talk, saying that what he wanted to do was get more of the baseball players involved in the club. He spoke to the history of the club and how it was started by middle school players who were tired of Mayfield being a joke when it came to baseball.

 

“I think we’re forgetting the Club’s history and how guys like Eric Simmons, and Noah McCall, and Marty Carlson, and Scott Andrews started the Go To State Team as a bunch of middle school kids. Now we can’t get kids to serve on committees or do volunteer work at one of our fund raisers or come to meetings. We have more middle school players than high school players here.” The number of players at the meeting were actually equal, but at that moment, who was counting? Aiden looked at the cadre of high school players sitting together. “You guys are great—now we just need more of you.”

 

Aiden sat down to applause from his friends and teammates. “Wow, you were seriously awesome,” Mason crowed. “That was a kick-ass speech.”

 

Andy then stood and gave his speech, telling how he had been active in the club, how he was serving on the budget committee (which was essentially Andy, David Fitzgerald, the treasurer, and Seth McCall, the club’s financial officer). He told how he planned to see that the club had the money to help support teams. He also promised to work to get more sponsors, although he didn’t tell who they might be since most of the businesses in the small town already supported what sports they could. He sat down, knowing he had sounded boring, but confident that he would get a majority of the votes. 

 

“Mr. Secretary, would you please pass out the ballots,” Mark ordered. Peter Astor, who had been without question the most surprising new member elected to the board in the spring, started walking through the aisles, handing out paper ballots to the eligible voters. Those would be any active players in the auditorium. He also had freshly sharpened small pencils for anybody who needed one. Peter had printed the ballots and cut them to size the night before. All players in attendance at a meeting could vote in an election, including all student board members.

 

“What were you thinking, nominating me? You could have at least asked me,” Aiden asked Gordy after they dropped their ballots into the wicker basket Peter carried around the room.

 

“Look, we both know Andy is going to win the election, but I wanted him to at least have a decent opponent. No way did I want to sit here and let Mac be the only one from the middle school running in the election. If we didn’t do something, they might think we were okay with him running.”

 

“I didn’t know you were so sneaky. You’re right, but you and I agreed that when we got older, I wouldn’t ever run for the board and that you would be the one running.”

 

“I never heard anybody nominating me,” Gordy pointed out.

 

“You never gave anybody a chance. Besides, we all knew that Andy would win so why nominate somebody who isn’t going to win? I guess that shows we aren’t as sneaky as you are.”

 

“I think the word conniving is better,” Gordy said, once again proud of using a word for the first time.

 

“You could have nominated yourself. I think people can do that.”

 

“No way I would do that. Somebody would think I was thinking I was somebody special or something. Besides it’s too late now. I nominated you and you did accept it.”

 

Aiden nodded. “It’s cool, since I’m not going to win anyway.”

 

“You gave the best speech of the three. You know you have all of our votes.” Gordy pointed to the Yard Goats sitting together.

 

The ballots were counted by George Bednarzyk, Aaron Lansing, and Jackson Hallion. After the trio counted the ballots twice, Jackson, as the board vice president, was given the responsibility to hand the results to Mark Elder.

 

Mark raised his eyebrows when he saw the result. The result wasn’t what he wanted but considering the makeup of the players at the meeting he shouldn’t have been surprised by the outcome. “Well, it looks like nobody had a majority,” he announced. “Mac Dixon received six votes, Andy Hoffman was second with eleven votes, and Aiden Miller had thirteen. We’re going to have a runoff between Andy and Aiden.”

 

“High school against middle school,” Peter Astor observed. “This is going to be interesting.” Peter was glad he had run off sixty copies of the ballot because he was going to need them all.

 

“This isn’t right,” Zane called out. “I want a recount—somebody’s fucking cheating. I want a recount.”

 

Before Mark could bang his gavel, Larry, Phil, Coach Fitzgerald, and Coach Randall were at Zane’s seat. “We think you need to leave the room,” Coach Fitz told him quietly but firmly. “Coach Randall and I will help you out.” The teachers smelled the alcohol on Zane’s breath and knew why he had sat by himself in the back of the room. After Zane was escorted out, Mark brought the meeting back to order and then told Peter to pass out the next set of ballots.

 

Mac pointedly refused to take a ballot and walked out of the meeting room. Russell, his shadow, walked out behind him. The rest of his gang accepted their ballots and prepared to vote.

 

The same three counted the ballots as before. There had been 30 ballots on the first vote, but three of the voters were gone which left 27 ballots to be counted. After 26 ballots, the vote stood at 13 to 13. George kept his hand on the final ballot and looked at Aaron and Jackson. “I was one of the go-to adults when this club was formed. I helped draft the by-laws and took care of the legalities as the club’s legal representative. I knew then that I was going to be a part of something very special.”

 

George lifted his hand from the ballot. “I have a feeling that this ballot is going be more than just a name on the board—this ballot is going to have one hell of an influence in determining the direction and future of the Mayfield Baseball Club.” He flipped over the ballot.

 

Nobody said a word when they saw the name. George felt the result was inevitable. Aaron couldn’t think of a better choice. Jackson was the first to say the name out loud. “Aiden Miller.” There was another moment of silence, broken once again by Jackson. “Wow, this is going to be really interesting.”

 

Next: Mariner Weekend